MA
by itsbiz
Summary: for
1. Chapter 1

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/967918.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Series:

Part 1 of torturous electricity between both of us

Stats:

Published: 2013-09-15 Completed: 2013-09-18 Chapters: 2/2 Words:

27463

 **torturous electricity between both of us**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

"As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

Notes

Based on the myth of Hades and Persephone, set in the Regency era. Story title from Landfill by Daughter and chapter title from Blinding by Florence and the Machine.

all around the world was waking, I never could go back

Just as she had done at home when living with her parents, Alex rises with the sun, even before the birds begin to sing, though she no longer has anywhere to go or any chores to be done. Instead, she slips from bed and into her dressing gown – the most expensive dressing gown she's ever owned in her life – and crosses the room in her bare feet, wincing as the cold floor chills her down to her very bones. Stifling a yawn, she curls up like a child on the window seat overlooking the moors, resting her forehead against the frosted glass wearily.

The view never changes. It is nothing but dead trees and grass and the damnable fog. The only thing that seems to have any life is the pomegranate tree outside her window, just beginning to bud with the coming spring. She sighs heavily, her breath clouding the glass as she blinks away tears. She misses home, with its open fields of green and the grove of trees she always liked to linger in, hiding from her mother, who always trying to introduce her to this farmer or that butcher, as if any of them would have wanted a woman like her – in her forties and unable to have children. Her mother had never been able to face the fact that her daughter was an old maid, well past her prime. No one wanted her.

Except him.

Alex scowls at the mere thought of the brute no doubt lurking in his study, planning new ways to make her miserable. She has no idea why he even keeps her except for perhaps the entertainment value. She rarely leaves her room and when she does, it's only to try getting away from him, which so far, hasn't worked. The last time she'd gotten lost on the moors and had to wait huddled beneath her cloak as night fell for one of his underlings to find her and bring her back.

A soft knock on the door draws her attention across the room and Alex hugs her knees, frowning. "Who's there?"

"Only Parker, Mistress."

She softens a little at the boy's voice outside the door. For some reason, her husband is rather fond of having teenagers and children – orphans – in his employ, and she can't deny she's grown rather fond of most of them, especially eleven year old Parker. She rests her chin on her knees. "What is it, Parker?"

"The Master wants to know if you'll be joining him for breakfast."

She scowls. "You can tell your master I'll be taking my breakfast in my room, as always."

Parker sighs and she hears the dull thud of his forehead resting against her bedroom door. "He won't like that, Mistress."

"Then he can come and tell me himself," she sniffs, and promptly turns her attention back to the window, waiting for the sound of Parker's retreating footsteps. Just as she'd expected, the sound of heavier approaching steps catch her attention only minutes later and unlike Parker, this visitor does not knock and hope to be invited in. He opens the locked door with his key and steps inside, slamming it behind him. Alex doesn't turn to look at him or flinch at the loud noise, keeping her stare resolutely toward the window, but she can see his reflection in the glass – the tall, gangly figure dressed all in black, the aura of darkness and all-consuming power very nearly pervading the air around him. She swallows hard; feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach as she purposefully ignores him.

"You can't stay in here forever."

"Watch me," she snaps, and suppresses a shudder at the low, silky voice that had drawn her in before she ever saw his face.

He sighs. "What have I done to make you hate me so? It was your choice to be here with me, remember?"

Alex scoffs bitterly. "Hardly a choice when there was but one option."

"Two options," he says, his voice cold and hard. "But your selflessness would only allow you to choose me. Hardly my fault, Alexandra." She says nothing, glaring out the window at the fog, and hears him step closer, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floorboards as he moves. "I have done all that you asked of me. Your parents are living in peace in the home you allowed them to keep -"

"Not that I'm permitted to see them."

"Perhaps I would let you leave if I knew you would return," he snaps, and she flinches at the harsh tone despite herself. "You ruined your chances of that when you tried to escape out the window on our wedding night, dear heart."

She whirls on him finally, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue but it dies the moment her eyes land on him. It's the first time she's looked at him in days and the sight of him always renders her a bit tongue-tied. She may loathe the man entirely but she cannot deny he is quite something to look at. He's a young man compared to her, easily in his late twenties and his countenance is strange but absolutely fascinating – eyes dark and deeply set in a youthful face, his cheekbones alarmingly sharp, his mouth red and twisted in an odd little smirk as he studies her in return, no doubt taking in her wild hair like a cloud around her face flushed in anger and the dressing gown that he'd had sent for her from London – the latest fashion. Swallowing hard, she averts her eyes from him and manages to locate a less biting reply in her rattled mind.

"And you ruined your chances of any civil relationship the moment you decided to throw me in here and lock the door because I wouldn't lie with a complete stranger."

"Your husband," he snarls. "Stranger or not I am your husband now, Alexandra and you will get used to it." Her eyes well with tears and he softens instantly, the harsh line of his mouth thinning into something she might consider contrite, were he not the devil incarnate. "And if you'll recall, I never said I wanted to consummate our marriage that night. I merely wanted you beside me in our bed. As if I would touch a woman scared to death of me."

She gapes at him, mind racing.

At her intense scrutiny, he schools his expression into something impossibly blank and she cannot read him for the life of her. "Now, I've had enough of you hiding away like a petulant child. You will have breakfast with me in the dining room and then we shall spend the day together. Is that understood?"

"Fine," she mutters bitterly, knowing that he is merely asking to be polite. She will spend the day with him if he has to lead her about on a leash like a dog.

"Good." He nods crisply, tugging at his black leather gloves with cool detachment. "I'll send someone in to help you dress."

"I can dress myself," she bites out.

"Yes dear," he says mockingly, and slams the door to her bed chambers shut behind him.

Oh, she hates him.

Breakfast is an awkward affair, to say the least. He's already seated when she arrives, in the middle of taking his tea, and when she enters the room in one of the gowns he'd bought for her, he rises from his chair until she takes her seat across the vastness of the imported mahogany dining table.

An attendant - a young girl of about sixteen – pours her tea for her and offers her a plate of delicacies to soothe her empty stomach. Alex accepts both graciously with a murmur of thanks, and feels the eyes of her husband on her from the other end of the table. She glances up with a barely restrained huff and guarded eyes to find him observing her over his plate, eyes hooded beneath the lock of hair eternally falling over his forehead.

"Confinement doesn't suit you," he says, and she prepares herself for a snippy remark about her complexion. "But that dress does."

She blinks at him in surprise. "Thank you, Lord Smith."

He flinches at the title like she'd struck him. "Hardly the thing for a wife to call her husband, is it?"

She pushes listlessly at her eggs. "As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

The lack of an angry response from him is maddening, which is probably why he hadn't risen to the bait. Alex scowls into her tea, hating that he can make her feel like an immature child. "And what shall I call you in the mythical instance when I am not cross with you?"

His eyes meet hers from the other end of the table and even from a distance, the feel of his gaze on her burns. "Matthew."

She sips at her tea and pretends to be unaffected, all the while wondering if she'll ever say his name without venom. "How disappointingly common."

"We weren't all blessed with a name like Alexandra," he replies in the same good humor he has been showing her throughout breakfast. It's nothing like the man she'd married two weeks ago – god, has it really been so short a time as that? It seems an eternity ago – when he'd been cold, distant and taking her away from her family.

"Since we're discussing names," she begins, "I'd prefer Alex."

He nods, watching her in amusement. "Very well. So long as you never, ever call me Matthew. I prefer Matt."

Prodding at a bread roll with her knife, she says, "Fine. I shall save Matthew for when I'm cross."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Special occasions," she says with false cheer. "Darling."

After breakfast, they take a turn about the grounds, Alex with a hooded cloak to protect her from the damp, and her arm hooked through Lord – Matt's. Calling him something so informal will take getting used to after weeks of referring to him out loud by his title and in her head as Satan himself. It's also strange being so close to him when all she does is try to keep her distance. She hasn't been quite so near him since their wedding, when they joined hands in front of a minister in a private ceremony, only her parents as witnesses. He'd been wearing his gloves then just as he is now, but she imagines his touch must be as cold as ice beneath the leather exterior.

The grounds around his manor are a wretched, unsightly place. It is damp, chilly, permeated with thick fog and without the slightest hint of pretty foliage like the grounds of her childhood home. Further out on the moors, the ground is more fertile and green, the trees budding with life, but for some reason, the Smith manor is an ugly, barren place with a miserable wind that rattles the glass panes of the house at all hours. Alex prefers to imagine this is a sign that Lord Smith – Matt – has cursed the very ground he walks on.

As they pass a grove of dead trees at the end of his property, Matt finally speaks. "I know this is not a marriage you entered into for love -"

"Neither did you," she counters, glancing at him with a frown.

He hesitates. "No, I didn't. I had hoped for companionship, if nothing else." Turning his head, he looks at her pointedly. "Which you've provided little of since your arrival."

Alex glances away again, biting her lip.

"Like it or not, we are married, Alex." He speaks softly, says her name like a light caress, and she fights the urge to shiver. "For better or worse, we're going to be spending our lives together. We should make an effort to get along and at least be civil." He clears his throat uncomfortably under her surprised stare, and it's the first time she's seen the ever-in-control Lord of the house uneasy. "I want you to be happy here."

Stunned, she can only stare at the side of his face for a long moment, letting him lead her through the long grass in the midst of the tree grove as she struggles to find the appropriate response. It's the most genuine thing he – or any other man, for that matter – has ever said to her and after weeks of antagonism and shouting, it's entirely unexpected. The idea of being happy here with him seems unimaginable but continuing to live out her life this way is equally undesirable and she finds herself nodding in agreement.

"Okay," she says finally, mind still reeling. "I'll play nice if you will."

He visibly relaxes at her acquiescence, his grip on her arm loosening. "We'll both have to strive to be on our best behavior then."

"And my parents?" She asks hesitantly, not wanting to ruin their brand new and tentative truce by asking for too much too quickly. "When can I see them?"

"In time." He leads her back in the direction of the manor and her heart sinks a little at the vague reply. As if sensing it, he glances at her and sighs. "When you've proven to me that you'll come back. Perhaps a few weeks without an escape attempt."

"Why do you care if I do?" She glares at the ground as they walk, the hem of her fine dress

covered in mud. "I'm only your payment."

"Yes," he bites out impatiently, grip on her arm tight once more and his expression dark. "You are mine. And I like my things returned to me."

Alex bristles at the implication that she is nothing but his possession and the rest of the walk back to the manor is spent in stony silence on both ends, their frail truce already brittle and cracking. She doesn't know why they're even trying. They are simply not well matched, and their life together will be nothing but constant rows punctuated by deliberate silences and the slamming of doors.

When they reach the house, an unfamiliar carriage is in the drive but it isn't unusual for Matt to have strange visitors at all hours. Alex has no idea what he does to earn all the money and power he has, but whatever it is, she knows it must be a shady business indeed. At the sight of the carriage, his expression tightens and he says quietly, "To your chambers, Alex. I have business to attend to."

She frowns, despite the giddiness that fills her at the thought of the sanctuary of her bedroom. "I thought we were spending the day together?"

"And we shall." He releases her with the brush of his hand down her arm, like a faint caress, and her eyes widen. "But first I must get rid of our guest."

"Why can't I wait for you in the parlor?"

"Because I said you can't."

"You can't just order me about because -"

"I think you'll find I can." He raises a thin brow at her. "Now go. I'll send Parker to fetch you when I'm through."

With a rather undignified huff of annoyance, Alex turns on her heel and stalks into the house, leaving Matt to stare after her, smirking with amusement.

Two days later, Alex wakes well past breakfast and realizes Matt did not send for her like he usually does. They've been eating all of their meals together lately and though there are times they barely speak at all, it has still been nice to have the company, however taciturn. Pushing away the pang of disappointment, she sits up slowly and runs a hand through her hair, frowning.

She knows exactly why her darling husband hadn't sent for her. He's obviously still stewing over their row last night, when he'd tried to order her out of the library so he could conduct a business meeting and she'd thrown a book at his head. Granted, she might have been overreacting a bit but it had been no excuse for him to drag her through the house with a biting grip on her wrist and hurl her into her bedchamber like the insufferable man he is. Perhaps if he asked her to do things politely rather than ordering her about like she's another one of his henchman than she would be more inclined to comply.

Alex snorts softly to her empty room. The man doesn't have a polite bone in his body.

The rumbling of her stomach reminds her that it is well past breakfast and she groans, pulling herself out of bed to dress, hoping when she gets to the kitchen there will still something left over from this morning to tide her over. The selection of gowns she has to choose from is absolutely outrageous – Matt had spared no expense when preparing for his bride and somehow he'd known her measurements without ever asking her. Everything fits beautifully, and he has impeccable, expensive taste. Not that she'll ever tell him so.

She runs her fingers over the elegant fabrics and hums thoughtfully for a moment before finally selecting a silk green gown and holding it up against her in the mirror. It matches her eyes rather well and she finds herself wondering if Matt had chosen it for especially that reason. Quickly chiding herself for the fanciful thought, Alex scowls and carefully lays her dress aside, walking quickly toward her bedroom door. She doubts he even knows what color her eyes are.

Opening her door quickly, she finds a young girl stationed outside like she'd known there would be and bites her lip anxiously at the child leaning against the wall and lazily braiding her long dark hair. "Hello."

The girl glances up and smiles shyly. "Hello, Mistress. Can I fetch you something? You missed breakfast."

"Actually," Alex fiddles with her shift uncertainly. "I was hoping you could help me with my corset. I thought I might go down to the kitchens myself, if that's alright."

The girl nods eagerly and follows Alex into her bedroom with a skip in her step, as if happy just to have something to do. At first, she had been a little wary about her husband's use of children as servants but none of them seem unhappy here and as orphans, she supposes they have nowhere else to go but a workhouse. Holding onto the bedpost as the girl behind her laces up her corset tightly, Alex sucks in a pained breath, remembering exactly why she never wore the damn things when she lived at home with her parents. "What's your name?" She asks softly, trying to distract herself from her increasing inability to breathe properly.

The girl pauses. "Iris, ma'am."

"Pretty name," Alex murmurs. "Was your master still angry with me this morning?"

Iris shrugs. "He took breakfast in his study, ma'am. Only Parker's seen him all morning." She ties off the lacing at the bottom and steps back with a proud smile. "There you are. Would you like help with your dress too?"

Smiling fondly, Alex shakes her head. "I've got it from here. Thank you, honey."

Blushing a little, Iris curtsies and exits the room hurriedly, no doubt returning to her post. Alex finishes dressing quickly, looking in the mirror with a mouthful of hairpins as she pulls her curls into a simple updo she can manage on her own. Feeling presentable enough for the kitchens at least, Alex slips from her room and down the corridor to the staircase, winding through the dark hallways of the first floor until she finds herself standing in a warm kitchen, filled with wonderful, mouth-watering scents.

Another girl stands over a boiling pot of something or other and Alex recognizes her as the same girl who has served her breakfast in the dining room every morning. She turns at the sound of Alex's approaching footsteps, tucking short, choppy blonde hair behind her ears and smiling brightly. "Good morning, Mistress."

"Morning," Alex greets, and a name comes to her instantly as she remembers Matt asking the girl for more tea just yesterday. "Hobbs, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl turns back to the pot boiling over and stirs, frowning into it. "Are you hungry? The master made sure I kept your breakfast warm until you woke."

"He did?" Alex glances in surprise to the plate of steaming food Hobbs presents her with.

"Of course he did." Hobbs laughs at her. "Doesn't want his wife eating cold food now, does he? I can take it into the dining room for you, ma'am."

Alex hesitates. "Actually, I'd prefer to eat in here, if I won't be in your way."

When she married Matt, she'd expected to be unhappy, but she hadn't expected to feel quite so lonely. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Alex was dining in the kitchen with a teenage servant girl.

Hobbs looks startled by the request but shrugs and ushers her toward a seat at the table in the middle of the room. "I'd be honored to have your company, ma'am." She purses her lips, pouring Alex a cup of tea. "Though, I'm sure the master would be as well."

Chewing a mouthful of eggs, Alex frowns at her.

Hobbs puts down her tea and waves a hand. "Never mind that. None of my business."

Swallowing, Alex gulps at her tea and winces when it burns her tongue. "No, what? Please."

Fiddling with her apron, Hobbs sighs. "It's just, he was in a right state last night, ma'am. You upset him something awful."

The tea settles oddly in her stomach and Alex resists the urge to glare at her plate. "He started it," she mumbles, sounding like a petulant child rather than the forty-seven year old mistress of the house. She sighs angrily through her nose and glances beseechingly up at the young girl watching her anxiously. "He drives me absolutely mad. If he could just be polite for one minute and treat me like a person, like his wife, rather than another of his bloody servants he can boss about -"

Hobbs lays a warm hand on her shoulder while Alex stares blankly down at her plate, her jaw set in anger. "He's trying, ma'am, truly he is. I know he's not an easy man to get along with, but you've got to try too. He's a good man, underneath. You have to understand he just isn't used to compromising. He's been alone all his life."

Alex bites her lip, pushing away her plate of food as her appetite disappears. "That doesn't mean he can treat me like a ruddy possession," she says, but she can already feel herself softening against the bully.

"I suppose not." Hobbs nudges her with a grin. "And I shall never forgot the look on his face when Dante's Inferno hit the side of his head."

Giggling into her hand, Alex blushes guiltily. "Was he alright?"

"No harm done, Mistress." Hobbs hesitates. "Well, perhaps to his pride."

She doesn't stay in the kitchen much longer, letting Hobbs ply her with a couple of freshly baked biscuits to finish her tea with before slipping away to roam the big old house on her own. She isn't quite sure where Matt's study is located but she figures she can use the time spent searching for it to figure out what on earth she's going to say to him. Last night had been largely her own fault and she would prefer to be an adult about the whole thing and make peace now rather than later. Besides, she's been enjoying the tentative concord between them. Matt is still absolutely insufferable but his company is better than staying in her chambers all day and his good temper is better than having him snarl at her. And he was right before – they need to learn to live together civilly.

She wanders the gloomy halls aimlessly, trailing her fingers along the walls and admiring the paintings and the expensive furniture probably imported from Paris, the Persian rugs and the heavy drapes. The house reminds her of something out of a Radcliffe novel, full of dark secrets, and any moment now, she expects to hear a rumble of thunder or see a flash of lightening through rain-lashed windows. The first floor is a labyrinth of never-ending hallways and doors, and just as Alex is beginning to doubt her ability to find her way back to the kitchen, let alone find Matt's study, she stumbles into a new corridor and sees Parker standing outside of a heavy wooden door, his arms crossed and a little cap tilted over his eyes.

She clears her throat pointedly and he stands to attention at once, yanking his cap from his face, fisting it in one hand while he reaches up with the other to smooth back his ruffled dark hair. He's quite an adorable little lad, though with his olive skin and big brown eyes, he looks like he belongs with a band of gypsies rather than in a pale Englishman's service. "Mistress," he says, sounding surprised. "I was just – uh -"

"Napping?" Alex laughs softly. "It's alright, dear. It's our little secret."

He beams at her.

Jerking her thumb in the direction of the door behind him, she asks, "Is this his study then?" When Parker nods, she smiles. "Can I go in?"

He hesitates. "I should ask him first, my lady." Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Parker continues, "He was in a right mood earlier on account of -"

Alex nods, wincing. "Yes, I know. Ask if he'll see me, would you?"

Without further ado, Parker turns and opens the door to Matt's study, poking his head in. "The mistress is here to see you, sir. Shall I let her in?"

Alex can't hear Matt's reply but Parker steps aside with a smile to let her pass by, so she ruffles his hair in thanks and steps inside, allowing him to shut the door behind her. Seated behind a large desk in the middle of the room, Matt doesn't even look up and she lingers by the door uncertainly, taking everything in for a moment. The room smells of pomegranates and cigar smoke and fresh bottles of ink. The light in here is soft and the fire roaring in the fireplace on the other side of the room lends an inviting feel to the small space. It isn't quite what she'd expected for the devil's lair.

"Come to observe me in my natural habitat?"

She glances up and finds Matt peering at her over a few leafs of paper, frowning. He's obviously still sore about last night and she decides to tread carefully, shrugging lightly. "I knew you weren't taking any visitors at the moment and I thought you might like some company. That is what I'm here for isn't it?"

He eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you were here for target practice."

Sighing, she smoothes a hand over her dress and steps forward, approaching his desk with the feeling of a girl in the head master's office. There are two plush leather chairs in front of his desk that he probably keeps there for his appointments with the various strangers who come to call but she doesn't want him looking at her like another person he can just give orders to and send away. She steps around the chairs and perches on his desk, looking down at him. He stares up at her in surprise and it's this close that she finally sees the cut on his temple, just peeking out from beneath his hair. Gasping softly, she reaches out before she can stop herself but when his gaze hardens, she freezes, her hand halted in mid-air. "Is that -" She swallows uneasily. "Is that from last night?"

Matt leans back in his chair, further away from her, and clenches his jaw.

She worries her lip between her teeth guiltily, bringing her hand back to her lap. "I'm sorry, Matt. I shouldn't have done that, no matter how furious you make me."

He smoothes a hand over his cravat and drops his gaze to the papers on his desk, and Alex is sure he's about to dismiss her from his study without any acknowledgement of her apology whatsoever, but finally, he asks softly, "And your wrist?"

Fleetingly thinking of his iron grip on her last night as he dragged her through the halls and into her room, Alex flexes her fingers and shrugs. "A little sore. It's fine."

"Good," he murmurs, clearing his throat, and she knows that's the last they'll speak of it. "Have you eaten?"

She nods, watching him stack his papers and tuck them away in a drawer where she can't see them. "Hobbs was very accommodating."

Matt rises from his seat and moves to the table in the corner, where a decanter of red liquor and a few glasses sit. Pouring himself a drink, he eyes her from across the room, still perched on his desk, and she fights the urge to fidget under his gaze. "I like the dress," he comments idly, and sips his drink. "It brings out your eyes. I knew it would."

Alex stares at him in surprise, feeling her face flush despite herself.

"However, the hair won't do at all."

She frowns, reaching up a hand to brush her fingers self-consciously over her updo. "What's wrong with it?"

"I can't see it." He strolls toward her slowly, something unmistakably predatory in his eyes that makes her stomach tighten. "I much prefer it down, my dear."

"It's improper for a woman my age." She waits for him to reach her before snaking out a hand and nicking his glass. He doesn't try to take it back, watching her with raised brows, so she lifts the

glass to her lips and drinks under his watchful stare, the taste of pomegranates bursting on her tongue. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Certainly not," he murmurs humorously, and takes back his drink before she can protest. Setting it aside, he steps in closer to her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body against her side and smell the scent of leather, pomegranates and damp earth – a dizzying, heady combination that renders her speechless. Slowly, as if waiting for her to strike out and push him away, he slips long, elegant fingers into her hair and begins plucking out the pins holding her hair in place one by one.

Alex sits frozen, barely daring to breathe as his every exhalation stirs the hair at the top of her head. When he slides out the last pin and tosses it onto his desk, he tangles his fingers in her hair and untwists it from its simple knot at the back of her head until her hair tumbles over her shoulders in wild blonde ringlets.

His hot mouth brushes her ear and she fights back a full-bodied shudder, letting him twine his hands in newly freed curls as he demands quietly, "Leave it down."

She nods hurriedly and when he finally steps back and drops into his seat behind his desk, glass of red liquor in hand, she is gasping for air, her lungs burning and her heart pounding. "Another demand then?" She asks hoarsely, silently scolding herself for being so affected by a simple touch

– and by him, no less.

He smiles blithely. "A helpful suggestion, if you like."

She rolls her eyes.

A soft knock on the door has them both turning around as Parker pokes his head inside and says, "Mr. Clement is here to see you, sir."

Matt stiffens, his almost playful mood dropping instantly. "Thank you, Parker. Please escort your mistress back to her rooms."

Alex glances back at him with a scowl. "I was going to have a look around, actually. I do live here, after all."

"After Clement leaves. Go." He sighs when she glares at him. "Please."

At the magic word she's been complaining he never uses, Alex softens instantly, nodding with reluctance. "Fine. But as soon as he's gone -"

"I'll show you around myself," he promises tersely. "Now, for god's sake, get out of my sight, you brandy-swilling hellion."

She stalks out of his study, past the man waiting outside and down the hall without a backward glance, letting Parker lead her back to her chambers and wondering if it would actually kill Matt to be polite for more than a second. She amuses herself on the walk back by imagining her darling husband keeling over in the middle of dinner – cause of death too many please's and thank you's.

But when she joins him in the dining room that night, she wears her hair down – only because she likes it better that way too.

Usually after having dinner with Matt, she retires to her chambers for the remainder of the evening but one night about a week after Mr. Clement's visit, she accompanies her husband to the library instead. It's been raining heavily all day, pouring from the skies with a vengeance and making the already damp grounds even worse. She's been stuck inside and the boredom of staring out the window and watching rain pool in the marshy ground is slowly killing her. Exploring the library more thoroughly sounds perfect and the extra time spent with Matt will please him as well.

He wanders into the cavernous room with her trailing behind him, his footsteps echoing as he makes his way toward the leather armchair in the corner next to a table with clustering of lit candles, a newspaper tucked under his arm. "Help yourself to whatever you like," he says, waving a hand flippantly around the room as he sinks into his chair, flips open his paper and proceeds to ignore her entirely.

Alex stands in the middle of the room, gazing around at the rows and rows of books, heavy shelves stretching all the way up to the ceiling. Never in her life has seen so many books in one place. There's a fireplace on one side of the room, a fire crackling invitingly in it. A thick, plush rug is laid out in front of it, a sofa and several armchairs situated around the rug, and Alex decides once she selects a book, she'll stretch out on the sofa to read until the fire lulls her to sleep.

Walking to the shelf nearest her, she skips her index finger lightly over the spines, tilting her head to read the titles. After a moment of skimming, her brow furrows and she glances up, turning to

Matt and finding him already watching her. The moment he notices her looking back, he drops his gaze back to his newspaper once more, frowning deeply. Alex smirks. "Why do you have an entire shelf of children's books and romances? A little late night reading?" She pauses, horrified by her next thought. "Do you have children?"

Startled, he raises his head to look at her with a scowl. "Yes, the ones in my employ. They may not be the brightest in the bunch but they do know how to read, Alex."

"Sorry," she says, feeling chastised. "I just didn't realize you kept books for them. That's… very kind of you."

Kind. Matt.

Her head feels fuzzy.

He shrugs carelessly. "Reading keeps them out of trouble and out of my hair."

Ah. The world has been restored to its rightful order.

She plucks a romance from the shelf and flips open the cover, instantly spotting the name 'Hobbs' scrawled in rather awful penmanship. She runs her fingers fondly over the etching and silently hopes the girl won't mind sharing – Alex could use a little romance in her life, and the fictional kind is just going to have to do. Carrying her treasure with her to the cozy sofa by the fire, she sits timidly on the edge of it, hugging her book to her chest and watching Matt across the room, glaring at his newspaper.

"Are you going to sit over there all night?"

He pauses, slowly lifting his eyes to hers. "Pardon?"

She sighs. "You said you married me because you wanted the company. I can't provide you with much companionship if you're all the way over there by your lonesome, can I?"

His mouth twitches and his eyes soften as he looks at her and Alex feels something in her chest tighten painfully. "I suppose not."

She offers a small smile and pats the sofa. "Come on then. It's warmer over here anyway."

He stands almost hesitantly and Alex watches as he walks toward her, noting not for the first time just how incredibly tall and long-limbed he is. When they're standing next to each other, he towers over her. In the beginning, his height was one of many menacing things about him but now she studies that lanky gait with – not quite fondness… he just doesn't seem as forbidding and devilish now as he had only a few weeks ago. He settles onto the other end of the sofa, a good distance away from her, and she frowns wonderingly at the vague feeling of disappointment. "What now?"

She blinks. "Now?"

He stretches out his long legs, the heels of his boots digging into the expensive rug under his feet as he crooks an eyebrow at her. "You were going to provide me with companionship."

Stifling an amused smile, she shakes her head. "Sometimes companionship is just sitting quietly and enjoying one another's nearness."

He gives a most ungentlemanly snort. "I could have done that from my chair over there."

Curling her legs up beneath her skirts, Alex leans back against the sofa cushions and drapes an arm over the back of it, leaning her head into her open palm. "So you don't have any children then?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you want children?"

He levels her with an exasperated look. "If I did I wouldn't have married you."

Recoiling as if he'd slapped her, Alex swallows painfully and drops her suddenly watery eyes back to her book. "Right," she whispers. "Sorry."

Matt sighs. "Stop that."

She keeps her eyes focused on the cover of her book resolutely, blinking hard. "Stop what?"

Making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, he snaps, "Stop making me feel awful for stating the obvious."

"I'm not doing anything," she bites back in reply, raising her head to glare at him tearfully. "If you're feeling guilty it's only because of what you've said, not what I'm doing, you bully."

He gapes at her in outrage. "Bully?! I only meant I knew when I married you that you were -"

"What? Damaged?"

"Barren." He frowns. "And it didn't matter to me. My life is not meant for children – not unless they work for me. And I'm not a bully."

She ignores him, sniffling. "You like them, don't you?"

"Who?"

"The children, of course."

He hesitates, glancing away into the fire for a long moment, and she watches the way the light from the flames dances across his face, sharpening his cheekbones and making him look almost hollow. "I… have a soft spot for them. They're alone in this world." He frowns. "Like I am."

Her heart climbs into her throat and she resists the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm, to comfort her husband and jailer somehow, nonsensical though it may be. "Like you were."

"Hmm?"

"You were alone," she corrects softly, and he turns his dark, intent gaze on her. "But you have me now."

His mouth twitches again and she realizes it's the closest thing to a smile she's ever seen from him. "Yes," he admits quietly, eyes raking over her face. "I suppose I do."

They go back to their respective readings after that, sitting in companionable silence with the fire crackling in the background. Alex loses herself in the tale about a dark, handsome and brooding hero who must rescue a girl from her terrible captors and before she knows it, the warmth of the fire, the words on the page and the knowledge of Matt's presence so near lulls her into a state of half-sleep, her eyes sliding shut as her head falls to rest on the back of the sofa.

She jolts awake suddenly when Matt tries to rouse her, his dark form bending over her with a gentle hand on her arm and his quiet voice entreating her to wake up. "Come along, my dear. Go to bed – it's quite late."

Nodding sleepily, Alex climbs to her feet a bit clumsily and Matt hovers near her anxiously, as if expecting her to need him for balance. She straightens, blinking bleary eyes at him, and offers him a mumbled, "Goodnight then."

He reaches out a hand, as if to touch her arm again, but then thinks better of it, curling his hand into a fist at his side. Nodding once, he clears his throat and averts his glower to the floor. "Yes. Goodnight, Alex."

Thankfully, even in her half-asleep state, she manages to find her way back to her chambers with relative ease. She might actually be getting used to this drafty old place. She undresses in the dark and topples into bed in her shift, sliding beneath the blankets that have already been turned down for her – probably by Iris. As soon as her head hits her pillow, she's asleep.

Alex dreams of a man on a dark horse riding to her rescue – she can't see his face but he holds the reins of his steed with black leather gloves that look strikingly familiar. In the morning, she remembers nothing.

Sitting at the window seat in her chambers and staring glumly out at the landscape has become a pastime of hers. Not a particularly entertaining pastime, but she lacks something substantial to do in this house. The servants do all the work she normally helped her mother with at home, Matt is

in his study most hours of the day doing whatever it is he does, and more often than not, she finds herself wandering the halls aimlessly or staring out her window, slowly going mad for lack of anything to occupy her.

"Are you telling me you'd like to scrub floors with Hobbs then?" Matt smirks at her over dinner one night when she complains about her boredom – again. "Because the answer is absolutely not."

"Why not?" She frowns at him. "Maybe not the floors but I could help with something! What about the cooking?"

"Hobbs does that too. You can't take the servants' jobs away from them, Alex." He swirls the wine in his cup around for a moment, then takes a slow sip. "They won't thank you for it. You'll be taking their wages."

"Why can't you just pay them the same as usual?"

"For doing less work?" He scoffs and looks at her like she's terribly naïve and precious, which infuriates her. "Hardly."

Alex breathes out quietly through her nose, jaw set as she glares at him from across the table. "I need to do something. Anything."

"We have servants so that you don't have to do anything," he says with a sigh. "Most women love that, you know."

She ignores him. "What about your job?"

He tenses. "What about it?"

"Well you're always in your study all day, I hardly ever see you." She brightens, growing more excited as an idea forms. "If you want to spend more time with me, perhaps I could help you with whatever you do in there. I could sort papers or answer letters or -" But Matt is already shaking his head and she huffs angrily. "Why not?"

"I don't need you in there." He gulps at his wine and sets the cup down with more force than necessary. "My business is no place for you."

"Well then where is my place?" She snaps. "Here at the table so you can look at me with your wine? In my chambers so you know your newest possession is safe and sound?"

"Precisely," he murmurs, still not looking at her.

Tightening her grip around her knife so she doesn't hurl it across the table at him, Alex says through gritted teeth and with infinite patience, "The other night, you said you life wasn't meant for children. What did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like I meant, I imagine." Matt cuts his meat with an air of calm but she can see by the set of his shoulders that he's tense and listening.

"Did you mean your job then? Because it's too dangerous?" She rolls her eyes when he doesn't respond. "What do you do?"

"What I have to." He chews slowly, watching her with that burning gaze she feels through layers of silk and petticoats and whalebone. "To give my wife fine things and pay our servants and feed our horses."

Alex sighs heavily, leaning forward a bit and looking at him pleadingly, eyes wide and begging. "Shouldn't I know what my husband does for a living?"

"I tell you what you need to know," he answers calmly.

Throwing her knife down on her plate with a loud clatter, Alex snaps, "You've told me nothing!"

"Then I suppose that means you don't need to know anything," he barks in reply.

Alex crosses her arms over her chest and glowers at him in silence for the remainder of dinner.

She keeps up her silence for days, refusing to speak to him at meals or join him in the library after dinner. She keeps mostly to her chambers, staring out the window at the dreary sky, missing her mum and dad and home. It's just such an afternoon, nearly a week after her latest row with Matt, that he barges into her chambers dressed in a dark tailcoat, trousers, his usual black boots and a top hat. Before Alex can so much as grumble about him never knocking, he moves to her wardrobe and throws open the doors, swinging his walking stick as he goes.

"What are you doing?" She asks, frowning. "Tired of your own clothes?"

He scans the dresses for a moment, mumbling under his breath, before finally selecting a deep red one and plucking it from the wardrobe. "Put this on," he says, tossing it onto the bed. "I'm leaving in fifteen minutes and if you aren't ready, you're staying here with Benson."

"Benson?" She sputters. "The stable hand? What on earth for?"

"Because he's the only grown man I have in my employ who can look after you while I'm gone." Matt snaps his fingers impatiently. "But I'd prefer not leaving you at all. So get dressed."

Hurrying to the dress on her bed – not because he's being demanding but because it sounds like she might actually get to leave this godforsaken house and its godforsaken gloom for a while – Alex snatches it up and asks, "Where are we going?"

Walking toward the door, Matt leans his head out of the doorway and waves a hand. Moments later Iris comes scurrying in to help her with her corset. He doesn't grant Alex the privacy of leaving so she leaves on the shift she slept in, holding tightly to a bedpost while Iris laces her corset tightly.

Leaning against the doorframe, Matt watches her from beneath his fringe, eyes hooded. "I have business in town," he finally answers her.

She stares at him in surprise, barely even feeling the breath slowly being squeezed from her lungs as Iris works quickly behind her. "And you're letting me come with you?"

"I don't like the idea of leaving you here unsupervised," he explains loftily. "And I'm only collecting payment today, nothing exciting. You are to keep quiet and not ask questions. Understood?"

Alex nods quickly as Iris ties the laces of her corset and steps back. He could have asked her to stand by quietly while he threw a bag of kittens in the river and she would have done it gladly for the chance to go to a place with people. Iris helps her into her petticoats with Matt's eyes still on her but she's determined not to be affected by his gaze, letting Iris help her into her dress and do up the tiny buttons made out of shining gems in the back.

"There," she says, smoothing out the skirts with a grin. "Ready."

"You look ravishing, wife." He smirks at her and she flushes, inordinately pleased. "But your hair has to be put up before we go. Hurry up, you've got five minutes."

She frowns. "But I thought you wanted it down?" Iris is already behind her, hairpins in her mouth as she gathers Alex's curls in her hands and begins to twist her hair into some sort of elaborate updo. "You said -"

"Yes, I do want it down," he explains in that low, patient voice that never fails to make her stop whatever she's doing and listen. "For me. Not for anyone else."

The possessiveness of his words sends a strange heat to her belly she can't explain and Alex can only watch wordlessly as Matt turns on his heel and begins marching down the hall, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be waiting by the carriage."

When Iris has tucked the last pin into her curls, leaving just a few framing her face, Alex has two minutes to spare and she uses them to hitch up her skirts and hurry down the hall and the stairs, rushing into the foyer and out the door. Matt leans against the carriage door waiting for her, and the coachman and Parker are already seated on the box together.

He nods in approval at her hair as she approaches. "Much better. Actually, it's bloody awful but perfectly acceptable for the rest of society, I suppose."

She curtsies mockingly and he huffs, opening the carriage door for her. When she moves to step up, he startles her by wrapping his hand around hers to help her in, the leather of his glove smooth and supple against her palm. She settles into the carriage and watches him climb in after her, mouth dry and hand tingling.

Matt sits opposite her on the other side of the carriage, taking off his top hat and tossing it on the seat next to him along with his walking stick. The carriage takes off at once, rattling down the drive and toward the nearest town, which is still miles and miles away from Alex's parents, but

she has to ask. "Could I see my mum and dad? Just to let them know I'm alright?"

He shakes his head, as she'd known he would. "That's a journey of several days, Alex. Not today."

She bites her lip against any protest and merely nods, turning her head to look out the carriage window at the passing landscape.

"Perhaps when the whether improves and spring is here, we can take the journey together," he says, obviously trying to appease her. "How does that sound?"

"Lovely," she murmurs, because she knows he really is trying, in his own way. She hasn't the heart to tell him her mother would probably refuse to even let him in the house. "So whom are you collecting your payment from?"

Long fingers tapping restlessly against his knee, Matt glances out the carriage window, face tilted up to admire the canopy of tree branches above them. "You've seen him before. A man by the name of Clement."

She thinks back for a moment and shakes her head. "I recall the name, but not the man."

He tips his head back down and smirks at her, hazel eyes twinkling with unusual mirth. "You wouldn't. You were too busy making a dramatic exit to let me know how cross you were with me."

Refusing to laugh, Alex purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest, silently hating the way he can make her feel like a ridiculous child when he's the one so much younger than she is. Honestly, she can only imagine the scandal her marriage to such a young man caused in town – not that any of them would think to mention it to her face if she ever saw them. Matt's reputation as a dark and dangerous man would make sure of it. She sniffs and tips up her chin. "I'm sure I had a very good reason."

"Not at all." His smirk turns into a genuine grin and she can only stare in wonder at seeing it for the first time, white teeth gleaming against his thin red mouth. "I was being my usual charming self."

Shaking herself quickly and forcing herself to stop staring at his mouth, Alex snorts. "I'm sure."

Outside the carriage, she can hear the coachman and Parker singing a catchy little ditty to amuse themselves and she bobs her foot along for a moment, enjoying the sound of little Parker's laughter. "Why did he come with us?"

"We needed someone to drive us into town, dearest."

She sighs. "Parker, not the coachman."

"Parker likes town." Matt fiddles with a button on his tailcoat. "And he's a bit like my footman. He accompanies me everywhere."

"Poor thing," she murmurs, and smiles when Matt glares at her.

They make the rest of the journey into town in companionable silence, Matt staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face and Alex too afraid to ruin the peaceful atmosphere between them by speaking again. When they arrive in the town square, Matt places his hat back on his head, snatches up his walking stick and steps from the carriage, holding out a hand to help her down. Fingers wrapped around his gloved ones, she steps out and into the bustle of a quaint little town with actual people. It's been weeks since she's been in the company of anyone but Matt and the servants and she beams at her surroundings happily, allowing Matt to tuck her arm through his and lead her along.

"It's just up here," he says, swinging his walking stick with his other hand. "I thought you might like to walk the rest of the way."

She nods, drinking in the sights and sounds of civilization. It's a whole world away from the wild moors and she revels in the change. She nods and smiles at people who pass by and though Matt isn't quite gentlemanly enough to amiably tip his hat, she doesn't mind, too pleased that he'd even allowed her to come at all to fuss about something so small. They pass dressmaker shops and candy stores overcrowded with children, a bookshop and a hat shop but her face only lights up when she sees the jeweler's.

With a gasp of delight, she tugs on Matt's arm and glances at him pleadingly. "Just a peek?" He lets her pull him to the store window with an indulgent smile, watching her peer inside. She and her mother used to stare into the jeweler's window in her own town, both of them unable to afford anything but staring in delight anyway at all the pretty trinkets. Spotting a pearl necklace with a diamond clasp, she points to it almost out of habit and says, "Oh, look at that one. It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

Peering into the window along with her, Matt murmurs, "It's passable. The wearer, however, would make it stunning."

Flushing horribly and hating herself for it, Alex bites her lip and glances away, tucking her arm almost shyly back into his. "Come on then. You have payments to collect and poor men with families to terrorize."

"I don't terrorize," he says, leading her away as they begin to stroll down the street once more. "Must you insist on speaking of me like some sort of brute?"

"You are a brute," she says through a smile at a woman passing by with her baby.

"No," he corrects patiently. "I'm a man who takes what's owed him using any means necessary."

"Yes, darling husband," she says dryly. "That's a brute."

Sighing as they stop in front of an ill-kept townhouse, Matt says nothing and tugs her up the steps with him, rapping loudly on the door with the end of his walking stick.

"Why do you carry that thing?" She asks, slipping her arm from his and smoothing a hand over her dress. "You don't have a limp and you don't seem the type to be overly ostentatious."

Matt grimaces. "A necessary evil, I'm afraid."

Before she can ask him what he means, the door swings open and Clement stands there in muddy breeches and a nightshirt. He's a burly man but quite short in stature, with dark beady eyes and too little hair on his balding head. He pales at the mere sight of Matt on his doorstep.

Matt swings his walking stick over his shoulder and offers Clement a cheerful smile that under the surface is anything but. It's strange, how striking the difference is between the cold smile he has on now and the crooked grin he'd bestowed her with in the carriage. "Hello, my dear Clement. Guess what day it is?"

Clement swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. "Look, I don't have it yet. I just need another week,

maybe two and then -"

Feigned smile dropping instantly, Matt tuts disapprovingly and says, "I'm afraid that won't do at all, poor fellow. We had a deal."

Clement trembles a bit.

Stepping in closer, Matt gazes into the shorter man's eyes and lowers his voice to the silky tone that seems to entrance whoever might be listening. "I've been very fair, wouldn't you say, dear Clement? You came to me for a loan and I gave it to you when no one else would. You appreciated that very much, didn't you, Clement?" He waits patiently for Clement to nod, wide-eyed. "And all I asked in return was that you pay me back with a bit of interest the very next month. That isn't such an extraordinary request, is it? Don't you think I've been quite reasonable, Clement?"

With a gulp, Clement nods and when Matt steps back out of his personal space, he slumps and draws in a relieved lungful of air. "I'm sorry, Lord Smith. I just don't have your money yet," he babbles nervously. "If I could just have a bit more time-"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Matt purses his lips, clearly displeased. "If you don't have the money, I'll have to exact another form of payment. Your pocket watch, for instance. The one you were so terribly proud of when you showed it to me in my study last month." Clement's eyes widen and Matt tilts his head, his gaze so frightfully manic that Alex takes a step back and nearly trips down the stairs. "You remember, the one with the diamond studded face worth more than a year of your wages?"

"You can't do that!" Clement sputters. "That watch belonged to my great grandfather!"

"I think you'll find I can do as I please," Matt says glibly, unfazed.

Timid, nervous Clement turns furious and red-faced at once, those beady eyes of his glowing with startling ferocity. Without thinking, Alex edges closer to Matt's side because for once, he seems like the lesser of two evils. His hand drops instantly to the small of her back, a soothing touch meant to calm her.

"Enough now, Clement. You're frightening my wife."

Beady eyes turn on her immediately and there is something almost calculating in that gaze that unnerves Alex but she refuses to let the man know it, lifting her chin and staring back unblinkingly. "Wife, hmm? You can make him see how unreasonable he's being, can't you?" He asks her desperately. "It was my -"

Before Clement can utter another word to her, Matt takes the end of his walking stick and jams it into his ribs, effectively cutting him off as the man doubles over and gasps for air, wheezing. "You do not address her," Matt snarls. "You do not look at her, you do not so much as breathe in her direction, do you understand me, you miserable little vermin?"

Clement coughs.

Matt raises his walking stick and Alex finally snaps out of her startled stupor in just enough time to grasp his arm tightly and hiss, "Stop it, Matthew."

He blinks at her in surprise, glances down at her white-knuckled grip on his bicep, and slowly lowers his walking stick. Instead, he pushes the stick into Alex's hand and steps closer to Clement. He fists his shirt in his hand and shoves the shorter man up against the door of his home, keeping him in place as he uses his other hand to fish through his pockets. Alex watches nervously, clutching Matt's walking stick to her chest and wondering silently exactly what sort of man she'd entered a sacred union with until finally, Matt slips his hand out of Clement's pocket with a triumphant hum, holding aloft a gold pocket watch.

Tucking his find into his tailcoat pocket, Matt steps back, takes his stick back from her and offers a wink she assumes is supposed to calm her nerves. "I think that will do nicely. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Clement."

Clement watches in wounded, resentful silence as Matt turns on his heel and offers Alex his arm. She takes it without protest, still stunned, and allows him to lead her down the staircase and away from Clement's townhouse. When they're far enough away, he says, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I wasn't expecting him be quite so uncooperative."

Feeling his gloved fingers stroking at the inside of her elbow soothingly, Alex shakes her head. "Was that really necessary? Couldn't you have given him an extra week?"

"I don't extend my deadlines," he says decisively, and is apparently in a good enough mood to tip his hat at passersby now, with his new bounty in his pocket. "I'm quite firm about it but everyone I deal with knows this up front."

She frowns. "But that doesn't make any sense. You gave my parents an extra month to try and get their payment for you. Why not him?"

Matt sighs, looking aggrieved at having to explain himself. "My leniency with your parents had very little to do with kindness toward them, if you must know."

Alex gapes at him in comprehension, and if it weren't for the look in Matt's eyes as he gazes down at her, she would have been sure she was hearing things. He favored her long before she was ever his wife, it seems. And she'd barely even known his name until the moment he came to their home and declared her parents were going to lose the house and land or their daughter.

Before she can make sense of what to do with this new information, Matt stops in the middle of the street and waves his walking stick, and she glances up to see Parker striding toward them, munching on sweets. His pockets are bulging a bit and she imagines there must be more candy squirreled away there for later. "Parker, my good man." Matt ruffles the boy's hair and eyes him almost anxiously. "Everything alright?"

Parker nods proudly. "Well, sir."

"Good." Matt squeezes his shoulder. "Escort your mistress back to the carriage then."

Alex relinquishes his arm and steps up to Parker, who offers her a grubby hand that she takes willingly. "What about you?"

"I have another errand," he says, already walking away. "I'll be along in a moment."

With a sigh, she allows Parker to lead her along back to the waiting carriage. "Did you have fun, dear? Matt told me how much you like town."

Parker nods, grinning as he offers her a sweet from his little bag. "Have one, ma'am?"

With a fond smile, Alex politely declines and steps up into the carriage, waiting for Matt to return. True to his word, he doesn't take long at all, hopping into the carriage only moments later with a velvet box in hand. He settles into the seat across from her, depositing his top hat and walking stick next to him.

"What were you doing?" She asks warily as the carriage starts to move.

He surprises her with another, smaller but equally genuine smile, and tosses the velvet box at her. It lands in her lap and she casts him a suspicious glance before picking it up. "It's not going to bite," he says with a snort. "Open the bloody thing."

The box creaks as she opens it and she drops her eyes from Matt to look down into it, gasping quietly at the pearl necklace nestled inside, the diamond clasp glittering even in the relative darkness of the carriage. "Matt," she breathes quietly, glancing up with wet eyes. "You didn't have to – I didn't expect you to buy this for me just because I liked it. You -"

"I know you didn't expect it," he says with a soft laugh. "That is precisely what made buying it so delightful, pet." He hesitates, watching her touch her fingertips reverently to one lone pearl. "It's also an apology… for today. And I hope you can understand now, that I don't tell you about my work not to drive you mad, but for your own safety. People can get quite angry with me at times, and I don't want you associated with what I do for your protection. Do you understand?"

She nods, feeling a strange sort of warmth fill her chest as he looks at her earnestly. "Thank you," she says softly. "For trying to explain it to me. And for this." She looks down at the necklace again with a smile. "It's lovely."

He watches her with mild amusement, his eyes soft. "Aren't you going to put it on?"

"Oh, yes, of course." She lifts the necklace from its box and wraps it around her neck, fiddling with the clasp. "I can't quite -"

"Turn around," Matt orders quietly, and when she does, she feels his bare fingers against her own, taking the clasp from her. She suppresses a quiet gasp, startled by the warmth of his touch. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be a warm-blooded male like all the others. She shuts her eyes at the light touch of his fingers at the nape of her neck and when the clasp finally snaps into place, she lifts a hand to the hollow of her throat to feel the pearls warming against her skin. She can't be sure but before Matt slips away back to his side of the carriage, she could swear she feels the faintest press of lips against the back of her neck but then he's back in his own seat and looking out the window. Frowning, Alex decides she must have been imagining things.

"I am not a child, you know. I don't need a bloody escort everywhere I go!"

Calmly watching her from his desk as Alex stands in the middle of his study, red-faced and furious, Matt steeples his fingers. "You may not look like a child, but you're currently doing a rather marvelous impression of one."

Alex smothers the urge to stomp her foot and prove his point. "I am a grown woman," she seethes. "And if I want to walk about the grounds of my own home without being followed by a minder then I should damn well be able to."

"Such language from a lady," he tuts, and she gets the distinct feeling he enjoys seeing her so riled.

"Such ill manners from a gentleman," she snips, and he grins jovially in reply. "Why can't I go out on my own? I haven't tried to run away in weeks!"

"Yes, but the last time you went out on your own, you got lost, remember?" He arches an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sending Benson out to look for you again because you're silly enough to wander too far. Now you can go with Parker or Iris or bloody hell, takes Hobbs for all I care. Just take someone so I know you'll be returned to me safely. Or you can't go at all."

"'Returned to you safely?'" She gapes at him in outrage. "I am not a bloody possession to be loaned out to your servants!"

Matt taps his quill against his chin, entirely unmoved. "Your parents, Alexandra, owed me a debt, and you agreed to be my payment, which in turn, makes you mine." He smirks at the tight line of her mouth. "And I like to keep the things that belong to me safe, whether you like it or not."

With a growl of fury, Alex grabs the nearest object to her, which happens to be a paperweight, and tosses it at her husband. She's too angry to aim properly and she misses, but as it falls to the floor with a thud behind Matt's head, he jumps to his feet with a thunderous look on his face that usually means trouble.

"I hate you," she snaps, and glares at him one last time before turning swiftly on her heel. She storms out, slamming the door behind her as she goes, and as she stalks down the corridor away from him, she fully expects his study door to open and to hear his footsteps behind her. Surely he won't let her get away with throwing a bloody paperweight at him like that.

However, by the time she reaches the staircase and he still hasn't come after her, she allows herself a quiet exhale of relief before she climbs the stairs to her chambers. She slams that door too, just for good measure, and proceeds to pace the length of her room, hands balled into fists as she tries to calm her breathing and tell herself that she shouldn't let that horrible man make her so agitated. It's only that she has spent her whole life being her own person with no one to answer to and while she hated that the reason for that was because no one wanted a woman who couldn't produce an heir, she grew to love her freedom. Having it snatched away by Matt is suffocating.

It's only moments after she finally collapses onto her bed to stare tearfully up at the ceiling that she hears the sharp click of Matt's boots on the floor outside her room. She sighs, mentally preparing herself for another battle, and listens to him open the door. It shuts behind him but she doesn't hear his footsteps approaching and he doesn't speak, so she huffs and lifts her head to glower at him. "What do you want?"

Standing by her bedroom door and watching her warily, he says, "I'm not apologizing."

"Fine." She drops her head and shuts her eyes. "I'm not apologizing either."

"However," he begins, sounding almost hesitant. "I'm going for a ride this afternoon, since the weather is tolerable. I wondered if you might join me."

Intrigued despite herself, she sits up with a frown. "Can I have my own horse?"

Matt snorts. "You just threw a paperweight at my head and shouted that you hated me. Of course you can't."

Her frown deepens but she nods once. "Alright."

He blinks at her in surprise. "Right. Good. You can't go like that, of course." He gestures to her gown with a flippant hand. "I'm sure I can find a pair of trousers that will fit you."

Her breath catches. "Trousers? Really?"

His mouth twitches at the excitement in her voice and he nods. "Of course. No wife of mine is riding side saddle."

The urge to run across the room and hug him is overpowering but Alex suppresses it, smiling brightly as he excuses himself to find her something to wear. He sends Iris back in with a pair of his riding trousers, an undershirt and riding boots, and Alex beams with delight at the sight of it all. She dresses quickly, tucking the billowing shirt into the trousers that are too long in the legs, but that her curves fill out nicely everywhere else. She slips into the riding boots, leaves her hair down around her shoulders the way she prefers it – and all right, Matt too – and very nearly skips down the stairs and out of the house to join him in the stables.

Matt is petting the muzzle of a huge black horse already saddled up and ready for their ride, holding the reins in his hand and letting the horse nuzzle into his palm. The moment he sees her, his eyes widen and he stops petting the horse to give her his full attention. He can't seem to take his eyes off her and by the time she reaches his side, she's flushed pink, reaching up to pet the horse to avoid his gaze. His hand settles on the small of her back and she hears him breathe out quietly, as if to steady himself. "Such a shame," he murmurs woefully.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "What is?"

"That you have to hide all of that under those damnable skirts all the time." He raises his brows at her and she giggles, nudging him away from her.

"Stop it," she says, feeling her face heat up once more. "Honestly, you're incorrigible."

He snorts, stepping away from her and climbing gracefully into the saddle. "You haven't seen incorrigible, pet." He holds out a hand to her, eyes burning. "I've made an effort to be quite gentlemanly with you."

She swallows at the implication, wondering even as she takes his hand and allows him to help her swing into the saddle behind him what it would be like if he didn't make an effort. He already makes it quite difficult to concentrate at times with that dark gaze on her and those long fingers, the power and allure in that low, silky voice.

"You might want to hold on," he says over his shoulder.

Slowly, she wraps her arms loosely around his waist from behind.

He laughs softly. "Tighter than that or you're going to fall off."

She tightens her arms around him and buries her face in his back, suddenly enveloped in the unique scent of him, that smell of wet earth and leather and his favorite blood red liquor. She inhales again greedily before she can stop herself and she doesn't know what it is about this man that can all at once drive her mad and make her dizzy with some unnamed feeling that sets her stomach churning but she's grown almost fond of him and his brutish ways.

He doesn't start the horse off at a trot or even a canter, and Alex yelps in surprise into his shoulder as the great beast beneath them takes off at a gallop instantly, Matt spurring him on with the press of his heels into the horse's sides. As they race down the drive and out into the wild moors, Alex lifts her head from his back and lets the damp air hit her in the face, blowing her hair back from her shoulders. All the other times she has been permitted to ride a horse at home, she had to wear a dress and ride side saddle, trotting along at a dull pace in order to be a proper lady but this is something else entirely. This is – exhilarating. It feels like a small slice of freedom amidst her life of imprisonment and she laughs in delight.

"Having fun then?" He asks over the pounding of the horse's hooves.

Grinning, she presses her cheek into his warm shoulder and shouts, "Faster!"

After their ride through the moors, Matt introduces her properly to the stable hand, and allows her to go out to the stables whenever Benson is present to help him look after the horses. When he tells her she can keep his pair of trousers and undershirt to work in, Alex cannot hold herself back any longer – she leaps into his arms and throws hers around his neck, hugging him tightly and murmuring her thanks into his throat. Matt stands stunned for only a moment before his arms wrap around her in turn, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes, "You're welcome."

Things are almost better after that. With something to occupy her during the day while Matt is busy, Alex's mood improves considerably. She feels accomplished at the end of each day, having Iris draw her a bath as she comes in every evening sweaty and smelling of horse. It's magnificent. And the happier she is, the happier Matt seems to be. They talk more at dinner, teasing each other lightly and retiring to the library together after. They stroll the grounds around the manor together more often and when he isn't trying to boss her about, Matt can be quite charming and gentle. She grows fonder of him every day.

That isn't to say they don't argue, of course. She still rails against his insistence that she have some sort of escort whenever she leaves the house, because it means she never has a moment alone unless she's in her chambers, but Matt is adamant about it and won't even let her go riding unless he or Benson accompanies her. It's easy to get lost on the moors, he says, and he doesn't like her out on her own for some other reasons she can't begin to fathom. Matt is awfully paranoid for one so young.

It's a typical gloomy morning on the moors when Matt goes into town on horseback, insisting she stay because he won't be gone more than two hours. Alex promises not to wander off and actually means it, spending her morning with Benson, who isn't much of a conversation partner, but who lets her brush out the horses manes and doesn't scold her when she braids them too for her own amusement.

She carries out apples from the manor, slipping them from her pockets to feed to them when Benson isn't looking, laughing when they nuzzle her in thanks. Her favorite horse is a black steed just like all the others, but there's something different about this one. He's quite wild, absolutely huge and formidable but as she quickly found out, he was also the gentlest creature she's ever encountered. Cerberus won't let anyone near him but Matt and herself, and Alex would refuse to admit it if anyone would ask, but she always gives him extra sugar cubes and brushes him twice as long as any of the other horses.

It's about two and a half hours after Matt had left and she's in the middle of plying Cerberus with apples to get him to stand still for the intricate braid she's tying in his mane when she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance. She glances up with a smile, expecting to see Matt galloping into the stables with a smirk, a triumphant return from collecting another payment and beating another poor soul with his walking stick. However, as his horse trots into view, she sees the slumped form in the saddle and the smile drops from her face instantly.

"Matt?" She calls out, stepping away from Cerberus, her heart pounding.

His horse slows to a stop in front of her, neighing softly, and Alex hears a pained groan from her husband. He lifts his head and she barely has time to notice how pale he is before he reaches out a hand, which she takes without hesitation. Gripping her hand tightly, he slides limply from his horse with a muttered, pained string of profanity, right into her arms.

Panicking, Alex calls out for Benson and tries to hold Matt up on her own. "Matt, darling, what happened? Are you alright?"

He nods weakly as Benson reaches them. "Fine. Sore."

She looks at Benson. "Help me get him into the house."

With Benson's assistance, they manage to carry Matt between them through the stables and up to the manor, into the house and up the stairs to Matt's chambers, all the while with him grumbling that he's fine and they're being ridiculous. When he's reclining on the bed, clutching his ribs and

gritting his teeth, Alex sends Benson away and shuts the door behind him, climbing onto the bed next to Matt and hurriedly undoing the buttons of his riding coat.

"Much as I've been waiting for this," he says weakly. "I don't think I can right now, pet."

She blushes and glares at him. "I need to see what you've done to yourself, you idiot."

He sighs, winces, and leans back to let her work. Quickly unbuttoning his jacket, she pushes it aside and yanks his shirt from his trousers, refusing to think about anything at all except that Matt is hurt and she needs to know how badly. She pushes his shirt up around his chest and takes in the sight of smooth, pale skin. "Where does it hurt?" She asks softly, and glances up to find him watching her. "Just your ribs?"

He nods slowly.

She brushes her fingertips lightly over his skin and he shudders beneath her. Yanking her hand back, she bites her lip. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

Jaw clenched, Matt shakes his head. "No, pet. It's-" He breathes out steadily through his nose. "It's fine." She tries again, feeling along his ribs for any fractures and watching his face closely for any sign of pain. He seems perfectly fine until she presses a little harder, and he winces, batting her hand away with a muttered, "Buggering hell. Hurts like a sodding bastard."

Oddly amused by the colorful language, Alex smoothes her fingers over his skin once more, gently this time, and says, "I think your ribs are just bruised. What on earth happened?"

Laying back and letting her pull his shirt back over his stomach, Matt sighs. "Had an encounter with a man who wasn't pleased that his deadline was up. Sometimes I'm met with a little more resistance than usual." He coughs, then curses loudly again when it aggravates his ribs.

"Unfortunately for him, he underestimated me. I got my payment anyway and he, the unlucky fellow, is dealing with much worse than bruised ribs."

At his proud smirk, she rolls her eyes. "It isn't funny, Matt. You could have been seriously hurt. One day someone might be angry enough to kill you, for heaven's sake."

"Comes with the job, dearest," he mumbles, adjusting himself stiffly into a more comfortable position. "I can take care of myself, you know."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well I'm coming with you next time."

He guffaws, then grimaces at the pain it causes him. "Like bloody hell you will. What are you going to do? Stamp your foot until they leave me alone?"

"I don't stamp my foot," she grumbles. "And perhaps if I was there, they would think twice before harming you. Surely they wouldn't resort to violence in front of a lady."

"God, how can you be so much older than me and still so naïve, pet?" He sighs, shutting his eyes. "The types of men I deal with would harm you just to get to me and I won't have that sort of weakness."

She bristles, frowning down at the deep, rich red blanket on his bed and the equally lavish sheets. It occurs to her for the first time that she's in his bedchamber and sitting on his bed, and she feels her heart leap into her throat. "Fine," she says, and if her voice comes out a little higher than usual, Matt doesn't mention it. "If you refuse to let me come with you then you'll have to take someone else. A bit of muscle, perhaps. Either way, I won't have you going out on your own anymore."

Matt opens his eyes slowly and smirks at her. "You're being frightfully domineering, dearest. I quite like it."

She bites back a smile, shaking her head.

"Were you worried about me then?"

Straightening her shoulders, she traces her fingers over his patterned blanket to avoid his gaze and says stiffly, "Yes, if you must know. I do, on occasion, worry about you." She risks a glance at Matt and finds him staring at her in surprise. "What? Is that so difficult to believe?"

He ignores her, a long finger reaching out to prod the knee of her trousers. "You called me darling. And meant it."

Averting her eyes again with a flush, Alex clears her throat uncomfortably, remembering her panic at seeing him slumped over on his horse, unutterably terrified that something awful had happened

to him. "As I said, I was worried." She busies herself with sliding from his bed and tugging his blanket over him. "Now get some rest."

"Stay with me until I'm asleep," he says, and then, as if realizing he'd given an order, adds a soft, "Please?"

With a small nod and a flutter in her chest, Alex settles back on his bed and watches over him until sleep claims him. And if she lingers after for a while just to gaze at him, Matt is too lost in dreams to point it out.

my fingers in creases of distant dark places

Chapter Summary

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Set Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol.

Despite her insistence that he needs to rest, Matt is determined to get out of bed and back to work the following evening, and after they have dinner together, he stands from the dining room table, trails a strangely tender hand down the side of her face, and disappears into his study. Alex watches him go with a puzzled smile, finishes her wine, and decides that she'll spend the rest of her evening in the library without him.

The moment she rounds the corner and starts up the staircase, she finds Parker on the landing, sifting through a small sack, holding up a diamond necklace to the light. "Parker?" He glances up with a start. "Is that mine?"

His brown eyes widen in panic. "Oh no, Mistress. I would never, I promise. I found this one, I did!"

Alex climbs the stairs to join him on the landing. "You found it?"

He nods. "In town, Missus."

"Where on earth did you find a diamond necklace in town, Parker?" She holds out a hand, her expression stern, and he places his small sack into her palm. "The necklace too."

He sighs and hands it over.

Glancing into the bag and spotting a wallet, a watch on a chain, a pair of gold cufflinks and an emerald brooch, Alex gasps. "Oh my god, Parker, did you steal all of this?"

He looks at his shoes guiltily, biting his lip.

Thinking back to that trip into town she'd taken with Matt, she remembers seeing Parker with stuffed pockets, thinking that he'd loaded them down with sweets for the journey back. Matt had been right – she has been so utterly naïve. Breathing out quietly, Alex rubs her fingers at her temple and says, "Run along, Parker. We'll discuss this later, alright?"

He scurries away without further encouragement, disappearing upstairs, and Alex rises to her feet slowly, her jaw set as she walks back down the stairs and toward Matt's study. With every step, she feels her fury grow. How dare he. Using innocent, orphaned children with no place else to go as his little thieves to get what he wants. She feels ill at the very thought, hating herself for believing all his talk about giving them somewhere to stay because they were alone like he'd been. He'd probably been laughing on the inside at her stupidity for falling for it.

She walks into his study without knocking, slamming the door behind her, and finds Matt standing in the corner, pouring himself a glass of brandy, floppy hair falling into his eyes. He glances up at her entrance, takes one look at her face and sighs. "What have I done now?"

She holds the sack of trinkets up between her thumb and forefinger. "I've discovered your little thief."

"You mean Parker?" He sips his drink and blinks at her calmly.

Gaping at him, she says, "You're not even going to try to deny it?"

"Why should I? I know all about the little scoundrel's sticky fingers." He waves the decanter at her. "You look like you could use a drink, dearest."

She glares at him, clenching the bag in her fist. "Am I to understand that you feel absolutely no remorse for taking in orphans and making them steal for your own bloody gain?"

Matt gapes at her, setting the bottle down with a thud. "I what?"

"I can't believe I fell for it!" She laughs hollowly, shaking her head. "I actually thought you were being honest with me, you know? I thought you were opening up and trying to tell me something about yourself."

"What are you going on about, you ridiculous loon?" He asks, scowling at her.

"You and your bloody silver tongue, you bloody minion of Satan," she shouts, and tosses Parker's bag at him, only enraged further when she misses. "I thought you actually had a heart, taking in those children, but of course it was all about you and your sodding money -"

Before she can utter another word, Matt stalks across the room with a livid expression on his face and Alex doesn't even have the chance to think about fleeing before he has her by the hips, his fingers digging into her flesh through layers of silk and petticoats as he shoves her roughly against the door behind her. "Shut up," he snarls, and then he bends his head and kisses her.

Alex lets out a surprised squeak before the shock of his mouth against hers overtakes all else and her eyes flutter shut despite herself. She melts against the door, pressing her lips back against his and hearing him groan softly in reply. His tongue brushes against the seam of her lips and when she whimpers, he plunges inside to taste her, his hands moving from her hips to frame her face.

His hot tongue twines with her own and she reaches up without even thinking, fisting his shirt in her hands as she tastes pomegranates and warmth and Matt. He devours her, pressing her hard against the door as he plunders her mouth as if it is his for the taking. Heat licks at her insides like the flames of a roaring fire and Alex moans softly, her body flush against his and her chest heaving as she allows him to consume her.

When he finally pulls away, her mouth feels swollen and her lungs burn from lack of air. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up into the dark gaze of her husband, feeling dizzy. Sure that she's listening now; he rasps out, "Parker does not steal for me. Parker steals because he's a ruddy thief. He and the other children share whatever he brings home and I don't interfere." He traces his hand over her face, those long fingers caressing her skin tenderly. "Whatever you might think, I do care about those kids. Do you know what workhouses are like? I'm keeping them safe, giving them a place to sleep and freedom to do as they wish."

Struggling to think through a mind clouded with nothing but the taste of his mouth on hers, Alex manages, "You shouldn't let them steal, darling. It's wrong -"

"Shh," he whispers, and she obeys instantly, her eyes dropping to his mouth. When he bends his head again, she raises her own to meet his lips eagerly, humming softly the moment his mouth crushes her own.

This time, his hands slide into her curls and he fists them tightly as she slides her own arms around his neck, keeping him close to her. He brushes his mouth over her jaw, down her neck, nips at her collarbone. Alex pants against him, her nails digging into his shoulders. His teeth scrape against her skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touches. The heavy weight of him, of a man, against her is new and thrilling, but knowing that it's him – this man she had hated for so long and has grown to feel so much for in so short a time – it's even better.

"So gorgeous when you're angry with me, Alex," he breathes, and she whimpers when one of his hands leaves her hair to yank up her skirt and petticoats. "The fire in your eyes, the way your chest heaves and your cheeks flush, oh I love to watch you. Magnificent."

Panting, she whispers, "please", though she isn't quite sure what she's begging for. She only knows that she wants more – more of his hands on her, more of that velvet voice in her ear, just more of him. "Please, Matt."

He brushes his lips over hers again, his fingers skating up her bare thighs and finding the intimate place between her legs. Alex lets out a shocked gasp, her head dropping back against the door behind her with a thud. "I've been waiting so long to hear you beg me – to make you feel like this."

She throbs under his touch, surprised at the slickness of her sex and ache of being… unfilled. "Matt," she whinges, and he grunts, a soft, possessive noise into her neck. He strokes her with long, skilled fingers and she can't breathe or think or do anything but blink away the colored lights dancing in front of her eyes.

"So wet, Alex," he says with an appreciative groan. "I think you like being angry with me too." He laughs softly, pressing a little harder against her, and Alex makes a strangled noise in her throat, her hips jerking against her will.

Those elegant fingers know exactly what to do and where to touch to make unimaginable heat flood through her and when he strokes the hyper-sensitive spot at the top of her sex, Alex claws at his shirt uselessly and sobs, "I – oh god." Without thought, she rocks her hips against his hand, silently demanding more of that sparking, sputtering pleasure flaring low in her belly.

"That's it," Matt whispers, his dark eyes watching her intently. "Just like that." She grinds down on his hand and sees stars behind her eyes, her lips parting on a breathy gasp. "Such a good girl, yes, there you are."

His hand is tireless against her, rubbing the slick heat between her thighs expertly, his low voice in her ear whispering all manner of filthy things that shouldn't thrill her the way they do. She moves frantically against him, a tightly coiled pressure in her belly making her cry out, begging him for some sort of release.

"Matt," she whimpers, clutching at him, tears pricking her eyes. "I can't."

"Sshh, I know," he says soothingly, his other hand threading through her hair. "Don't fight it, pet. Just let go, let it take you." She turns her face up to his and he kisses her hungrily, angling his hand just so and something inside her snaps. Like a dam breaking, she is flooded by the most intense, all-consuming bliss, her sex fluttering wildly against Matt's fingers. She lets out a keening cry, her head thumping against the door behind her as she tosses it back, leaving Matt to suckle at the skin of her throat as his hand continues to move, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from her.

She trembles in the wake of her euphoria, leaning weakly against Matt, who presses soft kisses to her throat and pets her hair, murmuring endearments entirely unlike him. As the shaking stops and the feeling in her legs returns to her, Alex is left stunned by what she just allowed to happen.

"You alright?" Matt asks, pulling back to look at her with soft eyes.

She nods shakily, swallowing hard. "I – I should go."

Eyes pained, he reaches out to touch her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "Alex -"

"I'm sorry, Matt." She pushes his hand away gently, squeezing his fingers briefly. "That was – that was wonderful, darling. I've never felt -" She pauses, tears filling her eyes. "I just need to think, alright? I'll see you at dinner and we'll talk."

He nods, eyes shuttered and his mouth a thin line. "Very well."

Even with her head a mess, she can't leave him like this. Not after what they just did. Reaching out hastily, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him and wishing she had something reassuring to say. Nothing comes to mind, so she turns on her heel and opens the door to his study, slipping out quietly.

She walks down the hall and out of the house numbly, still feeling a little unsteady on her legs.

She doesn't allow herself to think until she has walked a substantial distance away from the manor, traipsing through the fog and the marshy ground mindlessly. She doesn't think about where she's going, she only walks, her mind entirely elsewhere.

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed. Matt has slowly turned from the taciturn, bad-tempered and brooding stranger to a man who read aloud to her from the newspaper as they sat by the fire in the library, who did his best to make her happy unless it meant putting her in any sort of danger, who had just made her fall apart in his arms with the touch of his tender hands.

The most she ever thought she would receive from her marriage was a roof over her head, fine things to wear and perhaps eventually a peaceful coexistence, but never had it occurred to her that she might fall in love with the dark, gentle, sweetly awkward man she married. And she shouldn't love him. He took her away from her family, and treated her like a servant he could order about as he wished. He is little more than a loan shark – a bloodsucker – who beats people with his walking stick when they don't have the money to pay him back. How can she love a man like him?

But she does.

And yes, he is all of those terrible things but he's also kind and gentle. He takes care of the orphans in his employ, giving them a place to stay away from the cruelty of workhouses, and he takes care of her. He has never pushed her into any sort of physical relationship though most men would have forced her by now, considering it her duty as a wife to please them. Matt wouldn't have touched her back there in his study if she'd protested, if she hadn't melted into his kiss with embarrassing ease. He has a temper, just as she does, but he has never hurt her, not even when she lobbed things at his head and shouted abuse at him. He cares for her. And Alex loves him.

She beams at the realization, stopping right in the middle of a field and laughing in delight. Not even when she was a young girl had she ever hoped to love the man she married. Most matches were not entered into for love, but for mutual benefit. Knowing even as a child that she would never have her own children, the idea of having a husband at all had been something longed for. She had wished for merely respect and kindness from her future husband, but not love – and certainly not the love she feels for Matt, the kind that makes her stomach flutter and tighten, that makes her long for another kiss, another touch of his hand against hers.

Imagine, falling for the devil. It isn't so bad, she thinks. In fact, it's rather wonderful.

With a grin, Alex decides to head back to the manor, hoping to catch Matt before dinner and tell him. Perhaps if she perches on his desk and he isn't too cross with her for leaving, she'll get

another of those toe-curling kisses. And he'd made her feel so incredible. She has no experience in matters of the bedroom but she'd like to return the favor. Except, when she turns to walk back, she realizes she can't see the manor anymore.

Around her, the sky is darkening with the coming night. She gazes around with a worried frown, realizing she must have walked further and for longer than she thought. She wraps her arms around her torso, shivering a little. Nightfall on the moors is always frightfully cold and she'd been in such a stupor as she left the house she hadn't thought to bring her cloak.

Oh, Matt will be furious when he realizes she'd gone out on her own. This is exactly the sort of thing he frets about and she's gone and done it without even meaning to. She'd been so rattled when she left the house that bringing someone with her for her walk hadn't really occurred to her. The time alone had done her good but now she's a bit hopelessly lost.

With a sigh, she starts walking in the direction she thinks the house is in, hoping that Matt will notice she's missing and send someone to search for her. Her breath clouds in the air, mixing with the thick fog laying like a blanket over the land, and Alex shivers, wishing she'd at least been clear-headed enough to remember her cloak. She thinks of the lovely, fur-lined beauty from Paris Matt had bought for her with a moan of longing, traipsing along in her thin dress. She isn't sure how long she walks or how far, but by the time she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance, she is freezing, tired, and hungry.

"About time," she calls out with a grin of relief. "I thought you'd never find me!"

A horse appears through the fog and she waves her arm teasingly to catch Benson's attention, but as the rider draws near, she realizes it isn't Benson or Matt or anyone else she recognizes. She drops her arm, suddenly uncertain. Who would be out on the moors at this time in the evening? No one lives near here but Matt.

The horse slows to a halt in front of her and she glimpses a pale, broad face beneath the hood of the rider's cloak. "Lost, miss?"

"No," she says, almost on instinct. "I was taking a walk and I thought you were someone else. We don't see many strangers in this area, sir."

The rider drops his hood, revealing a man with dark cropped hair, piercing blue eyes and a permanent frown on his face. Alex eyes the cut on his lip and his swollen, bruised jaw with unease. "Sorry to have startled you, miss."

"Missus," she corrects with a frown.

He nods his head at her in deference but she isn't oblivious to the calculation in his eyes as his gaze roves over her. She fights back a disgusted shiver, wishing desperately for Matt or Benson or even Parker to be with her. Slowly, he swings his leg over the side of his horse and drops down from his saddle, and as his cloak flaps in the wind, she notices that one of his arms is in a makeshift sling. The sight of it eases her mind somewhat, knowing that if she has to, she can surely get away from a one-armed man, however determined he might be.

"I'm looking for someone," he says, and her heart drops before he continues, "A man."

"Oh?" She asks, inching backward as he takes a step toward her.

"Goes by the name Smith." The rather revolting stranger turns his head and spits, oblivious to Alex's wrinkled nose. "Heard of him?"

She swallows, nodding. "I have. He's my husband."

His eyes widen a little, his gaze suddenly more interested than ever as he looks her up and down, grinning as well as he can with a split lip. "So you're the little tart he trapped into marriage. No offense, love, but I was expecting someone a bit younger. I suppose you'll do anyway." Before she can ask what he means or perhaps kick him for his insolence, the man reaches out with lightening speed and wraps a meaty hand around her arm, dragging her into him. She yelps in surprise, struggling against his hold on her, but even with only one arm, he's stronger than he looks.

"Let go of me," she shouts, squirming in his grasp. "I swear to god I'll -"

"Scream all you like, love," he says. "There's no one around for miles. You've wandered a bit too far from home." His breath smells of pork and cheap ale, and Alex gags, turning her head away. "Quite a wild thing, aren't you? I can see why he might be interested, the cad. But I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me." Alex struggles harder, her heart pounding wildly but he pays her no mind, stroking a lock of her hair. "Your husband needs to be taught he can't just take whatever he wants. I have a feeling losing you might hurt more than those ribs of his, don't you?"

Oh god. It's him. It's the man who tried to hurt Matt and now he's come back, just like Matt had been afraid someone might one day – the very reason he tries so hard to make sure she's never alone and she always has someone near who can protect her if the need arises. She is his

weakness, and she has left herself as vulnerable as he feared she might. Panicking inwardly, she snaps, "You are even more ignorant than you look if you think that horrible man cares about anyone but himself. I'm nothing to him! Please, just let me go."

He huffs out a puff of laughter against her face and she stops breathing. "I think you underestimate yourself, Lady Smith."

She can't let this man take her away. No one knows where she is and they'll have no idea where to find her. And Matt. Matt will think she ran away again, that she hates him and what happened in his study meant nothing. She can't bear the mere thought. So she fights, kicking his shins and scratching at his face as the man starts dragging her toward his horse, screaming for help at the top of her lungs and fully believing no one will hear her.

But someone does.

Just as the man shoves her against his horse and backhands her to shut her up, Alex stifles a cry and hears the sound of horses in the distance. She nearly cries in relief as two riders emerge from the fog, recognizing one of them instantly as Matt. The stranger obviously recognizes him as well because the moment he sees him, he swears under his breath and shoves her away, sending her stumbling forward. He mounts his horse with impressive speed, considering one of his arms is in a sling, and begins to gallop away just as Matt and Benson reach her.

At a nod from Matt, Benson is off after him at top speed, the fog instantly swallowing up both riders into the night. Alex barely notices; too busy shivering violently from the cold and the adrenaline, knowing that if Matt had been only a few minutes later, she probably never would have seen him again.

Matt jumps from Cerberus and reaches her in moments, the line of his mouth hard and grim, but his eyes panicked. Tears fill her eyes the moment he lays a hand on her arm and she collapses into his chest, clinging to him tightly and trying to reign in the urge to just sob with the shock of it all. "I'm sorry," she babbles. "I didn't mean to leave on my own, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to go so far or -"

"Shhh," he breathes, gathering her into his arms and holding her tightly, his face pressed into her hair. "It's alright, Alex. I've got you. You're fine, pet." He smoothes a hand over her back soothingly, clutching her to him as if he'd been the one lost and terrified. "Did he hurt you? Let me see, come here." He pulls back, holding her face in his hands and scanning her quickly, eyes intent. He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, clenching his jaw at the red mark on her skin. "If Benson doesn't kill him, I certainly will."

She nuzzles into his palm, shivering.

He softens instantly, pulling her back into him with gentle hands and leading her toward his horse. "Come on then. Let's get you warmed up." He yanks her fur-lined cloak from the saddle – the very same one she'd been longing for – and wraps it around her shoulders.

She snuggles into it gratefully, letting him help her onto Cerberus after he climbs up. He settles her in front of him rather than behind, as if he can't bear to have her out of his sight for a moment. In her dress, she's forced to ride sidesaddle but for once she doesn't mind because it means she can still see his face. His arms wrap around her to reach the reins and she's suddenly hyper aware of his closeness. "How did you find me?"

"You missed dinner, pet." He digs his heel into the horse's side and clicks his tongue, leading the animal into a canter back in the direction of the manor. "And then I realized everyone was accounted for but you, meaning you were out on your own." She bites her lip, thinking of the panic he must have felt as she leans into his chest, delighting in the feel of his chin resting on her shoulder. He nuzzles his face into the side of her neck, pressing his lips to her hair. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear you scream and be unable to see you or get to you? What if I couldn't find you, Alex? You gave me the bloody fright of my life!"

"I'm sorry," she whispers, hand resting on his thigh. "I just wanted to think, darling."

"Next time you need to think," he says dryly. "Perhaps you could retire to your chambers for a bloody nap."

"Is that an order?"

His mouth twitches. "A helpful suggestion."

When the lights of the manor come into view, Alex has never seen a more inviting sight in her life. She hadn't realized until now just how much she has grown to love the drafty old place. She loves its creaking floors and its winding corridors, loves the fog and the wet ground, she even loves the rattling windowpanes in the howling wind. It's home.

Matt puts Cerberus in the stable, helps her down from the saddle and once she's on the ground, he lifts her off her feet and carries her into the manor, one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. Wrapped in her cloak, her head resting on his shoulder, Alex feels a bit like a child, but his arms are warm and strong, safety personified. She's too tired and comfortable to

protest. He carries her up the stairs and down the hall, and she says nothing when he passes by her bedchambers and continues on, her breath catching when she realizes he's taking her to his chambers instead. He glances down at her indrawn breath, brow furrowed as if to ask if she has any objections. Alex curls her hands into his coat collar and snuggles further into his embrace, content. His arms tighten around her, his lips brushing her forehead.

Shutting the door to his chambers with his boot, he carries her to his large, four-poster bed and deposits her on it. She shifts to sit up, dropping the cloak from her shoulders, instantly warmer thanks to the fire crackling in the fireplace on one wall. "You need to get out of those damp clothes," he says. "You could catch your death out there, Alex. You should have at least brought your cloak instead of fleeing the house like a madwoman."

Still too content to even frown at him, Alex only says, "I hadn't the presence of mind to think about a cloak," and sighs at the smug look he gives her. She stands on shaky legs and lets him help her undress. He undoes the tiny row of buttons on the back of her gown, her stomach lurches at every brush of his fingers, but she resolutely ignores it, maneuvering her arms out of her dress and letting it drop to the floor before kicking it away. In silence, he works on her corset next, each little bit he unlaces giving her more and more room to breathe until finally she feels like a free woman again. He tosses it aside carelessly and steps back, and she instantly misses the warmth of having him near.

Shedding her petticoats, she leaves all of her finery as a silken puddle in the middle of his bedroom floor and climbs back onto the bed in just her shift. She might have felt a little more self-conscious if he wasn't so insistent on never knocking before he barged into her bedroom. She can't even count the number of times he's seen her in only her thin chemise.

He leans against one of his bedposts, watching her intently, his hair dipping into his eyes. "Why did you need to think?"

She takes a deep breath and decides to be honest. "Because I never meant to feel anything for the man I married to pay a debt."

Matt nods slowly, ducking his head. "But you do. Feel something, I mean."

He says it like a question and her heart swells as she looks at him. "I decided on my walk that I don't hate you."

Chuckling, he lifts his head and regards her fondly. "You're sweeping me off my feet, pet."

She pats the bed and he obeys her silent request, climbing up to sit next to her. She leans into his side and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into him. Resting her head in the crook of his arm, she presses her face into his coat and breathes in his scent, shutting her eyes. "I'm glad I'm here. With you."

"As opposed to the man who tried to carry you off a few minutes ago?"

She sighs patiently. "No. Just in general."

Fingers curling around her shoulder, Matt hums thoughtfully. "I thought I took you away from your family and everything you love to live with me in hell?" He snorts. "Isn't that what you said on our wedding night?"

Alex flinches at her own words come back to haunt her, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, darling," she says, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I didn't – I was angry and scared. But I'm not now." She swallows, turning to look at him properly, cupping his cheek in her hand and making him look at her. "This is my home, here with you and your thieving little orphans." She laughs, a choked, watery sound. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

Hazel eyes, softer than she's ever seen them, shine as they look down into her own. "Are you saying you're alright with being married to Satan?"

She giggles, her hands stroking his cheeks tenderly. "Call me the queen of hell," she murmurs.

Matt surges forward without another moment's hesitation and captures her mouth with his own, but she feels his crooked grin against her lips and it makes her smile. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arches into him with a contented sigh. Kissing Matt is already her favorite thing in the world. His mouth is hot and slick, his tongue strokes against hers with an eagerness that makes her toes curl. Freed from her constraining corset, her breasts brush against his chest as she presses herself close to him and Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving to grab her hips, tugging her into him.

She crawls into his lap and feels his hands slide down over her thighs to the hem of her shift, dragging it slowly up her legs. He pauses when he reaches her waist, his mouth stopping its movement against her own, as if he's waiting for her permission to continue. The thought of being bare before him, of having those large, tender hands on her naked skin, is enough to make her dizzy and Alex whimpers, nodding hurriedly.

Matt nips at her bottom lip before pulling away, dragging her shift up over her head and tossing it aside. For a moment, he only stares at her with dark eyes, his cheeks flushed and his breathing short and sharp. Sitting astride his lap with absolutely nothing to cover herself with, Alex should feel self-conscious, but it's difficult when he's looking at her like that – with such awe and wonder, like he can't believe he's allowed to be near something so precious.

His hand trembles as he trails it down her jaw, over her throat and across her collarbones before dipping between her breasts. Her breath catches in her throat but she keeps her eyes on his face. He watches his hands move over her body, such careful intent in his gaze, as if he has never done anything more important in his life and he wants to get it just right. It makes her heart swell in her chest and she knows that despite her inexperience, she trusts him. She is safe in his care – and wouldn't the very thought of that have been amusing to her mere months ago?

Cupping her breasts in his palms, he squeezes softly, as if to test the weight of them, and she can't help but notice how perfectly she fits in his hands, as if she had been made for the very purpose of filling his palms. His thumbs brush her nipples and she gasps quietly, arching into the touch. He squeezes harder, leaning forward to lick and suck the soft flesh. Alex curls her fingers into his hair to hold him in place, making small, encouraging noises in the back of her throat as he wraps his mouth around her nipple, laving and sucking until the sensitive bud hardens beneath his attention.

That same familiar fire from before is licking at her insides again, more intense than ever. Alex tries to think through the haze in her mind, and when she slides a hand from his hair to grasp at his collar, she realizes something. "You're still dressed," she whispers, and Matt laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Hardly fair, darling."

"My apologies," he murmurs, and as he turns his attention to undoing his cravat, Alex takes the opportunity to explore his jaw and neck with her tongue and teeth. She tries to be as thorough as he'd been and his stubble scratches at her mouth and chin, which she finds strangely delightful.

She hums her appreciation, hands stroking over his biceps as she finds his adam's apple and nips with her teeth. Matt flings his cravat aside and swears, threading a hand through her hair and yanking her head up to kiss her roughly.

She holds his face in her hands and responds with equal passion, shifting impatiently in his lap. It's now that she feels a hardness beneath her, pressing against her thigh through Matt's trousers. Still kissing him, she shifts again and presses down a little harder. Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving from her hair to slide slowly down her naked back. He cups her bottom and yanks her into him, and the delicious friction of that clothed bulge rubbing against her bare sex is sinful and delicious. Alex tosses her head back with a gasp and he nips at her throat, murmuring, "My precious little minx. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

She moves on top of him once more, sliding the wet hot slickness between her thighs against the bulge in his trousers again, whimpering as she listens to Matt groan and swear, his fingers digging into her bum. "Show me," she whispers, pressing her lips to his temple. "Show me what I do to

you, darling."

Holding her hips, Matt moves quickly, and Alex yelps as he presses her into the mattress, suddenly hovering over her. "Don't move," he says, and she shivers at the quietly spoken order, nodding. He slips from the bed to undress in the firelight and she watches him lift his shirt over his head and reveal the pale, lightly muscled chest and flat stomach she'd glimpsed only a day ago, inspecting his bruised ribs in this very room.

"Are you alright?" She asks, suddenly unsure. "I mean, your ribs, darling -"

He laughs quietly, shaking his head as he begins to unlace his trousers. "There is nothing in the world that could stop me from making love to you tonight, pet. Least of all a couple of bruised ribs."

She might have pressed the issue but Matt is stepping out of his trousers, tossing them aside and straightening. She gets her first glimpse of him completely naked and her eyes widen. "You're -" She licks her lips, staring unashamedly. She's never seen a naked man before and now, faced with the man she loves standing before her, she feels at a loss and entirely out of her depth. She wants to please him, wants to make him feel as good as he makes her feel, but she's frustratingly clueless about exactly how.

Matt climbs onto the bed to join her, pressing kisses to her stomach and chest as he slides up to lay alongside her. "Come here," he says softly, and tugs her into him. She complies instantly, allowing him to direct her until she's straddling his thighs and looking down at him anxiously. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just touch me."

At first, her mind is a blank as she looks down at him, but she quickly remembers the way he'd kissed her neck and chest, how he'd used his teeth to scrape against her skin and how very much she'd liked it. Surely he must like the same. She leans forward, careful of his ribs as she balances herself over him, and begins to kiss his chest. Matt sighs beneath her, and encouraged, she becomes a little bolder, snaking out her tongue to taste his skin. She circles his nipples with her thumbs, flicking with her nail until he squirms beneath her, a little flushed.

She scoots forward to get a better angle and her sensitive sex rubs against him again, this time with no barrier between them. They both gasp, clutching at each other in pleasure. She scrambles backward quickly, sitting on his knees and looking down at the hard, flushed red length of him, an unspeakable longing stirring in her belly. "Can I -"

"Please," Matt hisses, his hips lifting off the bed a little. "That's what you do to me, do you see?"

She wraps her hand around him, marveling at the velvet soft feel of something so very hard. It's delightfully contradictory. She strokes him gently, and when Matt groans low in his throat, she increases the pressure of her fist around him, swiping her thumb curiously over the tip, which only seems to make him writhe more beneath her. Watching his pleasure is like a pleasure all its own for her and the ache between her legs is starting to border on uncomfortable. Her thighs feel sticky and damp, but she tries to ignore it, exploring Matt further.

Curiosity gets the better of her and when she bends her head to discover what he tastes like, running her tongue over the tip of his hardness to lick up the wetness there – salty, strange, but not entirely unpleasant – Matt loses any self control he'd been clinging to. Gripping her by the shoulders, he yanks her up to him and kisses her, his hands roaming her body frantically. She responds in kind, moaning softly into his mouth, and letting him flip them over so he can press her into his bed.

"Darling, please," she breathes against his lips, her hands slipping down between them to touch him again. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, his face pressed into her hair. "I need you." Her whole body feels taut with unexplainable tension, stronger even than what she felt in his study earlier, and she wants the same release he'd given her then, wants to feel her body snap and flood with pleasure more powerful than she's ever known.

"It's alright," he soothes, his hands traversing her sides, stroking the indent of her waist. "I'll take care of you."

She smoothes his hair from his face tenderly, her smile soft. "I know."

Sliding one hand down her waist and between her legs, he finds her throbbing and strokes the fire into a roaring inferno. His long fingers slip through her wetness, drawing more of it out until the musky scent fills the air around them. And then he does something unexpected. He slips a finger inside her and Alex feels her eyes roll back in her head as her body shudders. "Oh. Oh god. That's -" He crooks his finger inside her and presses with the heel of his palm against the sensitive bud at the top of her sex, and all words evaporate from her throat and her mind, leaving nothing but a desperate, keening cry.

Matt chuckles softly, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. "I think you're ready for me, pet."

She nods mindlessly, clutching at his shoulders so hard her fingers ache.

He slides his finger from within her and she feels emptier for the loss of it, unsatisfied and wanting. He shushes her whinge of protest with a kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he shifts above her, and she only has time to feel a faint twinge of surprise at the blunt hardness against the entrance of her sex before Matt kisses her harder and she loses her train of thought. She moans into his mouth, losing herself in the press of his soft lips, the stroke of his tongue and the taste of his evening brandy. His kisses are her own evening brandy, she decides. No day will be complete without his mouth on hers.

With her sufficiently distracted, Matt surges forward, sliding smoothly inside her. Alex tosses her head back in shock, gasping up at the ceiling and feeling tears prick her eyes as pain replaces the pleasurable ache between her thighs. "Sshh," he whispers softly, his hands stroking her face as he rocks into her, filling her up so completely. "I know, pet. I know. It's all right; it'll pass. I promise."

He presses sweet kisses to her hairline as her body stretches to accommodate the hard girth of him inside her. The feeling of being so unutterably full is foreign to her, and Alex blinks away her tears, trying to focus on that rather than the pain that is already starting to fade. They are joined in every way now, their marriage finally consummated. Matt strokes his hands over her sides, ducks his head to suck at her nipples, and under his attentions, it isn't long before the throbbing desire returns with a vengeance, making her shift impatiently beneath him, grasping his shoulders.

"Matt," she whimpers, and rocks her hips against him. They both moan as he slides further within her, fully sheathed, and Matt raises himself up over her, his forearms by her head as he shifts his hips, slowly sliding out of her only to drive back in. She cries out beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Again," she breathes.

He smiles down at her, and his hazel eyes are so full of tenderness that she can't remember why she ever thought this man was anything other than wonderful. He pulls out and pushes back in again, and the increasing slickness of her sex makes the friction so perfectly slippery. "So tight, pet," he says through gritted teeth. "You have no idea how good you feel."

She wraps her legs around his waist as Matt starts a slow, hard rhythm inside her, lifting her hips at every inward thrust to let the head of his length press against some unknown, positively wanton place inside her that makes her see stars every time he strokes against it. She clings to him as he murmurs endearments and filth all intermingled, making her head spin, capable only of asking for more as her nails rake down his back.

It isn't long before every stroke of him inside her makes her scream, their skin slick with sweat as they move frantically against each other. Matt's pace is fast and hard now, his stuttering hips losing their rhythm as he pumps into her erratically, his sweat-damp hair falling into his burning eyes as he looks down at her, that sinful mouth never stopping the litany of encouragement and smut. "You're mine," he whispers with a possessive growl. He grinds against her, his abdomen rubbing against that swollen little button between her legs. "Tell me, Alex. Tell me you're mine."

Alex cries out, nodding. "Yours, darling. I'm yours."

That exquisite flood of pleasure is eminent, tingling all through her limbs and at the base of her spine as her sex tightens around Matt more and more with every uneven thrust. "Mine," he says again, softer now. "And I am yours, my precious girl."

With a full heart and one last shout of ecstasy, Alex throws her head back on her pillow and lets the tide of pleasure pull her under, shaking beneath Matt as her body pulses and shudders with the intensity of it all. Matt moves his hips with renewed fervor as her sex clutches around him, burying his face in her hair and just clinging to her. Alex runs her small hands over his back and whispers, "Yours, yours, always yours." He lets out a sharp cry, his grip on her bruising, and she feels a flood of warmth between her thighs.

He pants into her neck, limp on top of her, and Alex stretches out beneath him, utterly content as he catches his breath. She likes feeling his skin against hers, likes the way his weight constricts her breathing like the best kind of corset. She feels colder when he lifts himself off of her and rolls over onto his back, and she turns instantly to curl herself into his side, her head on his chest. It's hard to believe there was a time when she hated even being in the same room with him, and now she can't seem to get close enough.

"I love you," she confesses softly.

Burying one hand in her curls and wrapping his other arm around her waist, Matt drops a kiss to the top of her head. "And I you, pet. You have no idea how much."

She moves into his chambers after that night and it's everything she never let herself hope her marriage would be. He holds her in the night, wakes her in the morning with sleepy kisses and his hands sneaking beneath the hem of her shift. She sits next to him at breakfast rather than across from him, and sometimes, when she's in the middle of sipping her tea, he'll take her hand and kiss her knuckles, the look in his eyes enough to make her cheeks heat up and her mind wander to very unladylike places.

When he retreats to his study, she still goes to the stables but there are often times when she accompanies him instead, perching on his desk and distracting him from his work. She likes to make him blush because it's such a rarity, sitting on his desk and taking his hands, sliding them beneath her petticoats with that needy little whimper that drives him absolutely mad. He gets much

less work done with her around, but he never complains.

That isn't to say they never argue anymore. Their rows, when they happen, are just as explosive as ever, and Alex still tends to throw things when he infuriates her, but now they have a release for their anger and she isn't ashamed to admit that sometimes she just pretends to be cross because of how rough Matt always is with her in their bed after.

It's just such a morning after a particularly wonderful night of making up that Alex wakes later than she'd intended, opening her eyes to rumpled sheets and an empty room, the gloomy morning light filtering in through the drapes. She stretches languidly and sits up, a little stiff and bruised, no but worse for wear. Spotting Matt's dressing gown draped at the foot of the bed, Alex slips it on over her naked frame and runs a hand through her disheveled curls.

It takes quite a bit of stealth to sneak down to Matt's study so scantily clothed without being spotted by any of the children but she makes it without incident, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. Scowling deeply at a pile of papers in front of him, her husband glances up at the sound of the door closing, sees her in his dressing gown tied loosely at the waist, and groans. "Bloody hell, you're insatiable."

"Like you're much better," she says, rounding his desk and settling on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You didn't wake me for breakfast."

"You needed the rest," he says, hands already sliding up her thighs.

She hums, shifting to let her thighs fall open. "You did keep me up awfully late."

"I certainly didn't hear you complaining, dearest," he rumbles, mouthing at her collarbone.

She laughs low in her throat, eyes fluttering at the touch of those slender fingers. "And you never will, darling."

And then those fingers are dipping inside her and stroking her walls, driving her to heights so pleasurable that when she comes apart, she has to bite his shoulder to stifle her cries, her hips stuttering against the hand working inside her. Matt kisses her forehead and cheeks, the tip of her nose, waiting patiently for her to catch her breath. When she kisses him in thanks and tries to unlace his trousers, he stops her with a gentle hand and looks at her thoughtfully.

"What?" She asks, stroking the bulge prodding at her thigh. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he chokes, red-faced as he pushes her hands away. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

She laughs. "Now?"

"If we wait until after, I don't think I'll be remember much but your name, pet." He smirks at her and she sighs. "Remember when you asked me for something to do weeks ago? To keep you occupied during the day?"

"Yes," she says slowly. "And you let me work in the stables."

He nods, tapping his fingers against his chin. "I did. But how would you like something else to do? I'm sure you've noticed how frankly depressing the gardens are here, and I know you miss the flowers you had at your home. I was considering hiring a gardener but -"

She gasps, her eyes lighting up. "Oh darling, no, not a gardener! Can I do it, please?"

"You can't do it all on your own," he says. "It's a lot of land, Alex. But I'm putting the whole matter entirely in your hands. Order the plants and flowers you like, hire whoever you want to help you. You're in charge, pet."

With a squeal of happiness, she crashes her mouth against his hungrily, mumbling her thanks between every kiss. Already making plans and mentally arranging her gardens, she fumbles between them once more to unlace his trousers. She knows just how to thank him properly.

"Perhaps they aren't home, darling."

"Trust me, they're here." Matt beats his walking stick against the wood of the Halpenny's home, scowling at the doorknocker as if it personally offends him. "Bloody cowards are too frightened of me to open the damn door."

She raises an eyebrow. "I can't imagine why."

He huffs at her, grumbling under his breath.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'?" She tugs at her white gloves with a sigh as he bangs on the door again. "Perhaps you should try it."

"I don't want to catch flies, I want money," he snaps, and then raises his voice to be heard by those inside the house, "the money I'm bloody well owed, thank you!"

Alex rolls her eyes.

Glancing at her, he scratches at his cheek. "You can't be nice to these people, Alex. It gets you absolutely nowhere."

"Whereas banging on their door with a stick and shouting at them is working beautifully," she replies tartly.

His mouth twitches. "You think you can do better, pet?"

"Step aside, darling," she says, and pushes him away gently. He allows her his spot by the door, watching her with raised brows, tapping his walking stick against the ground impatiently. "I'll show you how civilized people behave."

He snorts.

Alex lifts the doorknocker and raps it gently against the door. "Hello?" She calls out, using her friendliest voice. "Anybody home?"

After a moment of silence from inside the house, the door creaks open and a petite blonde woman peeks out, her face pale and her eyes wide.

Alex smiles at her kindly. "Are you Mrs. Halpenny?"

The woman nods tentatively.

"I believe your husband owes mine a bit of money," Alex begins primly. "Is he at home?"

Spotting Matt lurking like a dark bird of prey behind Alex, Mrs. Halpenny gasps quietly and tries to shut the door again but Alex sticks her foot out delicately and stops her. "That wasn't very nice," she chides patiently. "We're only trying to collect what's owed us, dear."

Mrs. Halpenny bursts into tears.

Alex glances back at Matt in confusion but the sight of a crying woman is not something he's used to dealing with in any sort of helpful way and he takes a step back, shaking his head and looking a bit ill. With a sigh, Alex turns back to Mrs. Halpenny, shushing her quietly and gathering the small woman into her arms. "It's alright, dear. Hush now."

Between hiccupping sobs, Mrs. Halpenny confesses that her husband, lacking the means to pay Matt back what he borrowed – including the rather illegally high interest Matt charges – had fled yesterday evening and she hasn't seen him since.

"Oh, you poor thing," Alex coos, patting the woman's back. "What a horrible man."

Behind her, she hears Matt mutter under his breath, but she pays him no mind until he says louder, "Be that as it may, I still need my payment."

Mrs. Halpenny sobs.

Alex throws Matt a scolding look over her shoulder and he shrugs carelessly. "I apologize for my brutish husband," she says, ignoring his glare of outrage. "Such a temper, but what can you do? Here, dry your eyes now." She pulls away to reach into the bosom of her dress and produce a white handkerchief. "There you are, that's better." She beams at Mrs. Halpenny, who smiles hesitantly in return. "Now, could you possibly spare a little something in payment, you poor thing? Just a trinket, I promise."

Minutes later, when they're walking toward the carriage with Mrs. Halpenny's garnet brooch and

every pair of Mr. Halpenny's diamond studded cufflinks and expensive leather gloves as payment; Alex hooks her arms through Matt's and sighs happily. "I think that worked out quite well."

"Smugness doesn't suit you," Matt says, but he's grinning at her anyway and she can tell beneath the thin veil of petulance, he's actually quite impressed. He proves her right only minutes later, the moment they're alone and out of sight inside their carriage. He's on her instantly, kissing her until she can't breathe, his hands sliding greedily over her bodice as he growls into her ear, "You were brilliant."

She tugs him onto her seat with her, panting as he licks and nips at her throat, his hands working to rip out the pins holding her hair up. "And smug?"

"Love it when you're smug," he rumbles, and the moment her hair is free, he sinks to his knees in front of her. She parts her legs willingly as he works her skirt and petticoats up her legs and out of the way, grinning breathlessly at him. He bites his way up her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to muffle a moan, not wanting the coachman to hear.

"Does this mean I can help you?" She asks, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he breathes hotly against her sex. Her breath stutters and she wriggles impatiently, her whole body on fire. "W-with your work?"

"We'll see," he mutters distractedly, but it's more than enough for her as he opens his mouth to devour her.

By the time they arrive back at the manor, her dress has been righted and her hair arranged but the flush on the apples of her cheeks is impossible to hide. Matt doesn't even bother to smother his arrogant grin, lending her his arm to help her from the carriage and lead her inside. Parker is waiting for them in the foyer, holding an envelope and bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently.

"Letter for you, Mistress," he says the moment he sees her, rushing forward with it.

Alex takes it from him with a fond ruffle of his hair, turning to read the envelope. "It's from my father," she says with a frown. She'd written to her mother two weeks ago, finally at a place in her married life where she felt she could tell her mother she was happy and safe without lying. Why would her father reply to her mother's letter?

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Matt says, "I'll leave you to it."

She glances up at him, slightly panicked.

He softens. "I'll be in my study if you need me."

When he and Parker disappear down the hall, Alex sits on the staircase, her hands shaking as she tears the envelope and unfolds the letter. She scans the words quickly, her mind trying to process mother and ill and wants to see you and please come home. She isn't sure how long she sits there, staring blankly at the letter, but eventually, Matt comes to find her and she glances up tearfully at his approach.

"My mother is ill," she whispers. "She's asking to see me."

Matt swallows hard, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her. "Then you must go home."

She nods numbly, sniffling. "We'll have to pack."

"I'm not coming with you, pet," he says softly.

Glancing up in surprise, she stares at him. "What? No, you have to. I need you with me."

"Your mother won't want to see me." He sighs, ducking his head, and his hair flops into his eyes. "And I can't leave. You know I can't."

Hugging her torso, Alex nods reluctantly and shuts her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. He has his work to take care of and he can't leave the children on their own, she knows all of that. But she doesn't want to go home alone and face her sick mother – she isn't strong enough to deal with that on her own and more than anything she just wants Matt's hand to hold.

"You'll take the carriage," he says quietly, his voice almost raw. "I'll send Benson with you, if you like." She hears him swallow audibly and opens her eyes to look at him. He still hasn't raised his eyes from the floor and he looks so far from the formidable man she thought she married. "Just promise me."

"Anything, darling," she says.

"Promise me you'll come back."

Her chest tightens at the softly spoken words and she nods, not trusting herself to speak. Standing on shaky legs, she stumbles into his arms and shuts her eyes as he holds her close. "Of course I'll come back," she finally says, voice wobbling dangerously. "You're here."

May 1817

Darling,

I arrived safe and sound, despite your fears that not having Benson with me would mean my imminent demise. Though I'm sorry to say my old home is terribly dull in comparison to the manor. I spend most of my days either sitting by my mother's bedside or making sure my father eats. He's worried himself sick about her but I have faith that she will recover in time. Already her fever has lessened, and I think it gave her strength just to see me again.

They were both so glad to be reunited, and it did my heart good to be near them again and to let them see how happy you've made me. I think they feared you'd locked me away in a tower somewhere and they would never see me again. I promised them both that when mother is well again, they could visit us at the manor and see for themselves that I'm hardly a prisoner, but neither of them seems particularly keen on it. I'm sure it isn't to do with you, my love. They hate fog.

It's strange to be back in my old bedroom and nothing feels quite right anymore. I spent such a long time wishing I could go back before I fell in love with you, and now that I'm here, it has only confirmed what I already knew. Home is not where I grew up; home is wherever you are. I miss you terribly. I miss your arms around me; I miss your irritating smirk and your silly hair. I miss your hands and your kisses. Sometimes my body aches with the absence of yours and I lie in my bed at night and touch myself as you taught me. It's nothing compared to your hands on me, but it lessens the ache, if only for a little while.

Please write to let me know you aren't wasting away with missing me and that you're perfectly

well – terrorizing the poor and beating innocent doors into submission with your walking stick.

Yours,

Alex

June 1817

My darling,

I'm so glad to hear you are well and that the children are behaving for you. Please make sure Parker does not become too lofty in his ambitions. I'm afraid if he steals from a viscount who demands he be thrown into a workhouse, there isn't much even you could do to stop him.

However, I'm quite sure you are lying to me, darling husband, and they do indeed miss me. I cannot begin to fathom how they survived so long in only your company. You are a good man, of course, but you were quite lacking in displays of affection before I came along. If it wouldn't pain you greatly, give them all hugs for me and tell them to be good and mind their manners – especially Parker.

Mother isn't well enough to leave her bed yet, but she is well enough to sit up and I pass most of my afternoons entertaining her with stories of the manor – like the time you caught me braiding Cerberus' mane and refused to speak to me all through dinner out of sheer petulance, or the time Parker and Hobbs stole all of Benson's trousers and hid them in Nyctaeus' stable. Most often, I find myself talking of you and unable to keep the love and fondness from leaking through into my voice, effusing my tales of you with warmth. Mother always looks at me skeptically, and before I leave her to rest, she always grabs my hand and warns me that you are not a man, but a monster, and that I should not let you deceive me. I only tell you this so that you know, my love, it is those who don't truly know you as I do who have been deceived.

Do you remember that night – nearly a fortnight after our marriage was consummated? You told me the story of a young boy who grew up in a workhouse, starved and abused daily. I think of it so often now that I'm away from you. I feel this pain in my heart and wish I could go scoop up that little boy, hold him to my chest. But if I did, you would not be the man I love now. And I do love you, darling, exactly as you are. I only wish I were not the first.

Your letter is creased and worn from my frequent reading, and I scan the words on the page

without even truly seeing them anymore. Instead, I examine your handwriting and imagine your fingers curled around your quill, imagine the set of your mouth as you studied the page and chose your words carefully. I imagine the ache in your chest when you think of me is the same as mine when I think of you.

Do you lie awake at night missing me as I miss you? Are you sleeping? I keep having terrible imaginings that you aren't looking after yourself in my absence, that you aren't eating or taking a moment away from your work to rest. Don't you dare waste away without me, Matthew, or I shall be very cross when I get home.

Always, always yours,

Alex

July 1817

Insufferable husband,

I'm glad to hear you aren't starving yourself for want of me but must you be quite so scathing about it? Anyway, I have a feeling you aren't being truthful so I've already sent along another letter to Hobbs to make sure she looks after you. I can't very well ravish you to within an inch of your life the moment I return if you're all skin and bones, can I? Oh, darling. If you knew how often I think about you. I fill the hours not taking care of my mother or doing her chores contemplating new ways to make you writhe beneath me.

It's more than that, though. I miss the way you lay your head in my lap and let me read Hobbs' romances aloud to you and I miss your derisive commentary on said romances, though it entirely ruins the mood, darling. I miss the way your mouth twitches when you find me amusing but don't wish for me to know it. I miss being able to walk to your study at any time during the day and find you sitting behind your desk, scowling at your papers and plotting who will next feel your terrible wrath.

And do you know what else I miss? My garden. I only just planted those seeds before my father called me away and now I'm missing the blossoming of all those lovely flowers. I'm glad at least you're there to enjoy them. Look at them and think of me. Are they flourishing? Are they beautiful? Describe them to me, my love.

Mother is still bed-ridden and I don't know when she'll be well enough for me to return. Just trust

that in time, I will.

Your terribly patient wife,

Alex

August 1817

Darling,

I'm so pleased to hear my flowers are well. I've been amusing myself with thinking of you strolling among them in your dark suit with your dour expression, trying your best not to enjoy them without me. Next summer, I think I shall tuck narcissus flowers behind your ears and into your lapels until you are positively sick of them.

I went into town today just to have a break from looking after mother and all those damnable chores. I quite miss having the choice to only do the chores I like doing, such as working in the stables and my garden. It's a luxury I never realized I would miss until I returned here. You've spoiled me terribly. And do you know, the sun seems to shine perpetually here. Is it strange to miss gloom and fog?

Anyway, I thought walking into town and taking in a bit of fresh air might be good for me, but I kept running into people I knew before I left, old friends who were sure they would never see me again. They all seemed to be operating under the assumption that you were a terrible beast who had locked me away in the dark, only to be let out for your pleasure. Honestly darling, I don't know what it is about you that makes everyone think such awful things, but perhaps you should stop beating people with that stick.

Those who didn't talk to me just stared, as if I were part of a sideshow act in the circus. I felt like whispers followed me wherever I went and sometimes people didn't even bother to whisper, talking as if I wasn't even there. If they weren't talking about the scandal of such a young man marrying an old maid like me when I have nothing to offer you – not even the possibility of an heir – they were talking of how tainted with darkness I must be, just by associating with you. I felt so angry that I couldn't help wishing for you. If your glower didn't scare them away, I'm sure a smack across the head with your stick would certainly have done the job. In any case, I don't think I'll be going into town again.

Tell me news of home. I miss you more than I miss clouds and rain.

Your Alex

September 1817

My darling,

Honestly, when I wrote to you about what happened in town, I wasn't asking you to send me your walking stick so I could hit them all myself. Still, I appreciate the gesture, my love. I tucked it into a corner of my bedroom to remind me of you. Sometimes I wrap my fingers around the handle and imagine I can still feel the warmth of your grip there.

Mother improves daily, I'm happy to say. I have high hopes that I will be home again with you by November at the very latest. I'm so impatient for it that it's all I can speak of sometimes, and Mother always frowns at me and says I've quite lost my head. If I have, it's entirely your fault.

I'm glad to hear the children are well and that Mr. Mercer dropped the charges against Parker, but really, my love, you should stop taking him into town with you if he can't control his urge to pilfer pockets. I know you're fond of having him with you, but it just isn't worth the trouble he causes.

Father decided to take care of Mother on his own today to give me a few hours to myself, and even with your gift, I wasn't about to walk back into town. I made the trek to our neighbor's house just down the road instead and slipped unnoticed into their stables, just to be around the horses for a while. I miss our horses – sleek and gorgeous and black, all of them. They look like such great, terrifying beasts – especially Cerberus – but every single one of them is nothing more than a gentle giant. They remind me of you, in a way.

Have I mentioned yet that I miss you?

Alex

October 1817

Darling,

I'm pleased to report my mother is much better and is even walking about slowly on her own, with only a bit of Father's support. I don't think it will be long at all before I can leave and return to you. I miss you so much I can't stand it. You haven't forgotten about me in my absence, have you? If you have, I shall be home soon to remind you.

Do you know what I realized today? We were all sitting down to breakfast at the table, talking pleasantly with one another and asking politely to pass this dish or that dish, and it hit me suddenly that I miss rowing with you. No one here can rile me the way you can or incite such passion within me. I haven't had the urge to throw anything at anybody's head for weeks and I'm almost embarrassed to say that I miss it. You drive me absolutely mad sometimes but I think I would be quite lost if you didn't.

I love the way you get so angry with me you'll shove me against a wall and kiss me until I can't breathe, just to silence me for a moment. I love the darkening of your eyes and way your touch burns like fire, the rough way you push up my skirts and lift me off my feet. As much as I miss your tenderness, my love, I think I miss your fury just as much. Even before I fell in love with you, arguing with you always made my stomach tighten and flutter, always made me throb deep down inside, but I didn't understand that it was desire. I desired you, darling, even that early on.

Whether you're making me furious enough to throw things or happy enough to cry, you never fail to make me feel something.

Your Alex

Matt,

It's November, my love. I'm coming home.

Alex

He's waiting for her when she steps out of the carriage, looking a little pale and tired, but otherwise just the same as when she left him. She laughs in delight at the sight of his familiar, ridiculous face and that grin she knows is meant for her alone, throwing herself into his arms and trusting him to catch her.

He does of course, clinging to her tightly and spinning her around until she shrieks in his ear. Setting her on her feet once more, he takes her face in his hands and finds her mouth with his own. It's a deep, fervent kiss filled with longing and the relief of finally being together again. Alex threads her fingers through his hair, tasting the wildness of the moors and the tang of pomegranates on his tongue.

"I missed you," she breathes, her hands stroking his face. "I missed you, I missed you-"

He kisses her again, grinning against her mouth. "You know, from your letters I never would have guessed."

"Oh shut up and take me to bed," she laughs, nipping at his chin.

She'd left her hair down for the journey home and he runs his fingers through her curls now like a man starved, rumbling, "I think you've gotten even more demanding since you've been gone. God, I've missed you and all this bloody hair."

"Show me," she says, and he picks her up and carries her into the house.

They barely make it to their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them and stumbling toward the bed. They both know they aren't going to last long this first time – it's been six months since they've had each other and release is what they need. Careful kisses and caresses will have to follow later, when the first wave of desire has been sated. Alex straddles his lap hurriedly, yanking at the laces on his trousers with trembling fingers while Matt strokes her thighs beneath her dress, hissing through clenched teeth, "Come on, come on -"

She frees him from the confines of his trousers, pausing briefly to stroke her hand over the hard length of him, relishing the feel of soft velvet skin against her palm once more. Matt digs his fingers into her thighs, swearing under his breath, and Alex laughs, strangely delighted by the way she can still reduce him to nothing better than a salty-mouthed sailor when she touches him. She guides him to the slick hollow of her sex and rocks down, taking him slowly inside of her, her eyes glued to his face to watch the fluttering of his dark eyes and the parting of his lips as he breathes out steadily, struggling to maintain his control.

Alex moans softly as he fills her, circling her hips and drawing a strangled groan from her husband. "Oh yes, that's it. You feel so good, pet."

She shudders, her head falling back. It has been so long and she has missed that low, silky voice and those pet names that fill her heart with tender affection. She raises herself up over him and sinks back down again, and Matt grabs at her breast roughly, his hips lifting to meet hers and pushing himself harder into her. She cries out, repeating the move again and again, reveling in the way her folds part for the thick length of him, taking him inside and fitting him snugly, trembling around him.

He is dark and perfect and terrible and glorious and most importantly he is hers, just as she is his. She moves steadily above him, her breasts bouncing as she rides him, and Matt clings to her and grunts, twisting his hips to drive himself deeper inside her. He slips his hands over her thighs and hips, lavishing her with burning touches, dipping between their joined bodies to stroke her.

"Matt," she whimpers, gasping as he brushes his thumb over that sensitive, tender spot. "Please, darling -"

"I've got you," he murmurs lowly, his eyes dark and intent on her face as he rubs harder, faster. "And you are never, ever leaving me for so long again."

Thighs tight around his hips and her hair wild and damp with sweat, Alex utters a sobbing cry of his name and gives herself over to the tide of pleasure tingling all through her. As she clenches around him, Matt whispers his love and she feels the flood of warm liquid between her thighs signaling his own release. She collapses against his chest as they fight to catch their breath, curling up in his arms and shutting her eyes. It's been six months since she fell asleep entwined with her husband and right now seems as good a time as any to remedy that. Later, she decides, they'll have dinner and she'll get to see the children and perhaps change into her riding trousers and walk out to the stables to greet Benson and the horses.

She sighs happily. It's so good to be home.

Matt fiddles with her curls silently for a while, separating the strands with his fingers and toying with them, and Alex is moments from sleep when he speaks softly into the quiet bedroom, "Part of me refused to believe you would really come back until the moment you stepped out of that carriage." Her eyes fly open but Alex says nothing, letting him finish before she corrects his ridiculous notions. "I was so sure you wouldn't want to return here – not after you went back to your home. I thought surely you would be happier there with people who loved you, rather than here in this hellish place."

"I have people who love me here too," she says, kissing his chest. "And I like this hellish place, thank you. It's home. I love my parents, but it's you and your orphaned minions I want to be with."

He laughs softly, and when she tilts her face up to look at him, he cups her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing her skin tenderly. "Lady Alexandra Smith," he whispers. "Queen of hell and my heart."

With a giggle and a beaming grin, Alex leans down, her hair framing his face, and kisses the devil sleepy-eyed.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	2. Chapter 2

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/1167211.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Series:

Part 2 of torturous electricity between both of us

Stats:

Published: 2014-02-03 Completed: 2014-11-20 Chapters: 22/22

Words: 90616

 **but persephone remembers**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

A series of ficlets relating to my fic 'torturous electricity between both of us'

Notes

Story title from A Myth of Innocence by Louise Gluck. Chapter title from 'Hades to Persephone' by Lee Ann Schaffer.

no silly seven seeds sealed the deal

The ceremony is a small affair, only her parents in attendance. Matt has no family to speak of, only orphans he calls servants. His bride, while lovely to look at in the dress he'd ordered for her from Paris – his first gift of many, he decides, since the fashionable clothes suit her curves so very well – is somber and silent as she stands next to him.

She says I do with a voice that wobbles and a clenched jaw, as if signing her own death warrant. Matt knows his reputation is a fearsome one but he hopes eventually, she will realize his violent temper does not and shall never extend to her. She will be safe with him and want for nothing. He tells himself that in time, it will be enough for her, and leans in to brush his lips softly over his new wife's, sealing the deal before God and priest.

He waits in the carriage as she says her goodbyes to her parents, watching them hug tightly, as if they'll never see each other again. He taps his fingers against his knee restlessly, knowing he should probably be standing at her side, playing the role of the supportive husband, but he has no patience for false sentiment. He sincerely doubts her parents wish to bid him a friendly goodbye, in any case.

When she steps into the carriage with red-rimmed eyes, he says nothing. The moment she's settled across from him, hands folded primly in her lap, he gives the signal and the carriage jolts to a journey shouldn't take more than two hours, since she and her parents had agreed to meet him nearer his home than theirs for the ceremony, and Matt settles in for the relatively short trip, resting his top hat on the seat next to him.

His bride stares blankly out the window, not bothering to acknowledge him. Being a man of few words unless provoked into conversation, Matt can find nothing to say and in the thick silence that settles between them, her eyes drift shut in uneasy sleep. He takes the opportunity to study her without the risk of being caught staring. She is undeniably a beautiful woman, even with her brow furrowed in distress as she slumbers.

He knew he wanted Alexandra Kingston from the first moment he saw her. He'd been sitting in her parent's parlor, discussing their newly-made deal over tea, and she'd come in from walking in the rain, the hem of her plain dress muddied and damp curls clinging to flushed cheeks. She was considerably older than him but the fire in her eyes – absent from the young women his age he encountered – had intrigued him. He'd contemplated the curls of her wild hair for days after.

When the time came to collect his payment, her parents were unable to settle their debt, as he'd known they would be. Instead of immediately tossing them out, he'd found himself uncharacteristically giving them more time to find the money. He'd felt generous… for her sake. Even the extra time had not been enough and infatuated or not, Matt was a businessman first and foremost – he always collected what was owed him, one way or another. He'd given them an ultimatum – their home and their land, or their lovely daughter, a companion to ease the solitude of the moors. As he'd planned, Alexandra's better nature would not allow her aging parents to be homeless beggars. She had agreed to marry him instead, begrudgingly. A begrudging bride isn't quite what he'd imagined when he thought of eventually marrying, but considering the man he has become, he knows he'll never be any woman's first choice in a husband.

She's still sleeping when they arrive at the manor and Matt hesitates before reaching out a hand, gently shaking her shoulder. She opens her eyes slowly, blinking in confusion, before she glances up and sees him hovering over her. She gives a startled gasp and shrinks away from him. He jerks his hand back with a scowl and says, "We've arrived."

After her apparent aversion to his touch, he doesn't bother offering to help her from the carriage, leaving her to struggle on her own as he begins the walk toward the house. From the countryside and unused to such chivalry anyway, she isn't troubled, hopping down without assistance. He doesn't turn back to check on his darling bride, listening instead to her footsteps behind him as she traipses through dead leaves.

"You live here?"

It's the first thing she's said to him since they married, three words colored with incredulity and perhaps a little dismay. He gazes at the manor as they approach, wondering what she must see as she looks upon her new home. Large, imposing, miserable and bleak, he imagines. He hopes the presence of a woman will shed a little light on the dreary grounds, like sunlight through fog. "Yes, obviously."

She sounds a little winded as she struggles to keep up but he does not offer his arm, knowing it will only be refused. "I can't say I'm surprised. It suits you."

He flinches. "And what does that say about you, my dear? You did marry me, after all. Perhaps you should look upon the house as your fate." She says nothing but he hears her annoyed huff through her nose and smirks. The honeymoon is over already, he sighs. Though, to be honest, it never really began, had it?

The hour is late now and the house is silent when they walk through the front door, and Matt decides he'll introduce her to his heathen staff tomorrow, when they're all well rested. Alexandra glances around in obvious fascination, peering into darkened corners and doing a very poor job of feigning disinterest. "There will be plenty of time to explore in the daylight hours," he says, his voice in the silent house making her jump and look at him with startled eyes.

She recovers quickly, drawing her cloak tighter around her frame. "Are prisoners free to roam their prison?"

"No," he says tersely, resisting the urge to grind his teeth together. "But a wife is free to wander about her home as she wishes."

She tenses, looking contrite for a moment, and offers him a small nod, her lips pursed. He inclines his head, silent acceptance for a wordless apology, and directs her up the stairs, a hand hovering over the small of her back, not quite daring to touch. He leads her down a long corridor, stopping outside the third door from the end and pushing it open. Hobbs obviously prepared for their arrival

– the bed is turned down and the pillows fluffed, a fire crackles invitingly in the hearth.

"Our bedchamber," he says by way of explanation, feeling oddly nervous. It's not as if he has never shared a bed with a woman before but Alexandra Kingston is not just any woman. For some reason, he finds himself wanting to please her and give her anything she desires. In time, she'll be spoiled senseless. He silently admits that he rather likes the prospect.

Alexandra, who had been walking warily into the room, freezes at his words. Whirling on him with wide eyes, the rounded apples of her cheeks drained of color, she repeats,

"Our bedchamber?" She sounds horrified and feeling a little insulted, Matt mentally prepares himself for another verbal battle. "If you think for one moment I will ever lay with a monster like you -"

It had never occurred to him to be so presumptuous – at least not tonight. He'd expected nothing more than for her to sleep beside him but her words sting and he flexes his jaw in anger, sneering. "Is that not your new duty as my wife, dearest? It is our wedding night, after all."

She glares, that fire in her eyes he'd first noticed glowing brightly now, like burning embers. He's going to enjoy provoking her if she's going to look like that each time he does. "I married you to pay a debt and that is all. I will never care for you. how could I? You tore me away from everyone and everything I love to live with you in this hellish place. Must you force yourself on me and take my dignity and purity as well?"

His blood boils and his nostrils flare as he looks at her, standing in the middle of his bedchamber and clearly terrified he's going to violate her. She must think him nothing but an unfeeling savage, the devil himself. "As you said, wife," he snaps. "This is hell. Your purity has no place here."

Her green eyes fill up and she trembles in place, but before she can retaliate, he shuts the door in her face, using his key to lock her inside with a shaking hand. Perhaps not the best option, but the one most readily available to him in that split second of fear that without some instant space between them, he might do or say something regrettable. That damnable woman has an infuriating ability to rile him like no other. From inside the room, he hears her frustrated cry, quickly followed by a thump against the door, something heavy thrown at solid wood.

This surely shall be the marriage from hell and he doesn't know why he'd expected anything else. With a heavy sigh, Matt rests his forehead against the door and shuts his eyes, struggling to calm his temper and breathe. This is only the first night of many, he reasons. He cannot expect things to go smoothly right away, not under the circumstances. Eventually, Alexandra will grow used to living here with him and that icy exterior toward him will melt. She has no choice but to get to know him and see he isn't a monster from some fairy tale. After all, she has nowhere else to go.

After several minutes, he opens his eyes and reaches into his pocket for his key, prepared to open the door and deal calmly with his wife, when he hears the unmistakable sound of his bedroom window sliding open and the laborious shuffle of a woman with heavy skirts no doubt attempting to struggle through it.

"Jumping out of a second story window," he murmurs with a humorless smile. He feels as though he's standing outside the home of one of his clients, listening to them hurry to escape the moment he comes to call, expecting payment they don't have. A thump from down the corridor draws his attention away from the door and he turns to see Parker struggling with Alexandra's bags.

"Change of plans, boy."

Parker glances up from his task, bright-eyed and eager as ever.

Shoulders slumped, Matt runs a weary hand through his hair. "Take those to one of the guest rooms. I don't care which; just make sure it has a window. Your mistress seems overly fond of them."

Parker nods hurriedly. "yes, sir."

Sliding his key into the lock on his door, Matt turns the knob, pausing. "Oh and in fifteen minutes, send Benson to fetch her from the moors before she catches her death."

Puzzled but willing, the boy nods with another prompt, "Yes, sir."

With a parting ruffle of his dark hair, Matt slips into his empty chambers and shuts the door. The window on the other side of the room is wide open, the curtains billowing in the cold December wind. He strides across the room and peers out into the dark, shivering a little. Where the hell does she plan on going?

Those riotous blonde curls are like a beacon and he spots her easily, running off into the fog with her cloak billowing behind her. He swallows heavily; wondering why freezing to death on the

moors is preferable to a warm bed with him beside her. Slamming the window shut and yanking the curtains closed to the sight of her grand escape attempt, he turns toward the blazing fire and begins to undress for bed. It hardly matters what she wants anyway – he isn't about to let her die. She's his now, whether she likes it or not, and Matt always takes care of his things.

Already plotting how best to provoke her over breakfast and see that lovely spark again – anything is better than her careful blankness and indifference, even her anger with him – Matt climbs into bed and snuffs out the candle on his nightstand. Settling beneath the sheets and wondering if Alexandra has begun to wish she'd stayed yet, he spends his first night as a married man thinking that if this is truly hell, it is still better than being alone.

but when I ate, I could hear her howling

Chapter Summary

"I've been trying to convince my parents to visit for months. I just want everything to be perfect."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Persephone Lied, which you can find here:

.

As Parker hurries to answer the door, Alex nervously straightens her dress and gives the room one last cursory glance, making sure the house is tidy enough to satisfy her mother. No doubt she will be looking for any sign that all is not well in her daughter's marriage and to her, an unkempt parlour would be a sign of trouble. She fluffs the cushions on the settee for the third time, biting her lip worriedly, before she feels a strong arm slip around her waist and pull her gently away.

"The house looks fine, pet," he murmurs. "Stop fretting."

Her hands refuse to be stilled so she focuses on straightening his cravat and smoothing the lapels of his coat. "You would say that, darling. You never pay a bit of attention to tiny details like housekeeping."

"And neither did you, until you received that dratted letter from your mother." He huffs, tucking two fingers beneath her chin and tipping her face up in an effort to make her look at him. She tears her eyes away from his adam's apple and looks him in the eye, softening instantly at the fondness she finds there. "Iris and Hobbs have been scrubbing the manor from top to bottom for days.

It's clean."

"I know," she admits, leaning into him when those long fingers begin to stroke her jaw. "But I've been trying to convince my parents to visit for months. I just want everything to be perfect."

"Your mother isn't going to be inspecting the house, you know," he informs her with amusement. "She's going to be inspecting me – and fully expecting to find me lacking."

She frowns, bristling, and sees his eyes flare with warmth. Her husband may not be the typical gentleman and at times he's nothing but a cad to others but to her, he is good and kind and breathlessly passionate. Any other man would bore her. She only wishes her mother could see that despite their rocky beginning, this marriage is everything Alex could have hoped for and more. "Well you're not lacking. I love you exactly as you are – ill-mannered wretch and all."

He chuckles softly, fingers inching into her hair as he bends his head and kisses her. "Thank god for that," he whispers.

Alex grins, stretching on her tiptoes to follow his lips and allow herself just a few moments more in his arms but the sound of a throat clearing shatters the moment spectacularly. Matt drops his arms and she turns to face the doorway where Parker stands, her parents hovering behind him.

"Mother, Father," she greets, pasting on a warm smile as she moves to embrace them. They wrap her in their arms and hold on tightly, as if to comfort or protect her and while Alex allows it for a moment, she's only too eager to step back when they release her. "How was your journey?"

"Fine, dear. Just fine." her mother holds her face in her hands, examining her closely as if to look for signs of malnourishment or mistreatment of some sort. "How are you?"

Alex extricates herself with a pat to her mother's hands, taking a step back. "I'm wonderful, Mother. And I'm so glad you're here. We both are." She glances over her shoulder where Matt lurks behind her, hands behind his back and eyes wary. She smiles warmly, holding out a hand to him, and he steps forward with caution. "I know you've all met but perhaps we should start over, hm? Mother, Father, my husband Matthew."

Her mother smiles weakly and nods a terse greeting.

Matt ducks his head in deference, clearly uncomfortable. "Mr. and Mrs. Kingston. It's… nice to see you again."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes. The man can be as charming as a snake when he needs to be, but when it comes to her parents, she has never seen such grudgingly politeness in her life.

Her father, bless him, holds out a hand to Matt. "Mr. Smith. I'm glad we're meeting under friendlier circumstances. My daughter tells me you treat her well and it is all I can ask for."

Shaking his hand, Matt raises surprisingly sincere hazel eyes to her father. "I know I married your daughter under less than ideal circumstances-"

Her mother coughs delicately.

Matt sets his jaw. "But rest assured, I have never harmed her." His eyes flit to hers and Alex holds his gaze unwaveringly, her heart in her throat. "She is my most treasured possession – just as she was once yours."

Not all that long ago, being equated with a possession might have made her throw something at his head but she knows his heart now, knows that she belongs to him just as surely as he belongs to her. They are equal partners in ownership.

Swallowing, her father releases his grip on Matt's hand with a murmured, "Good."

Alex curls her hand around her husband's elbow and turns her attention to the boy still standing in the doorway, yet to be dismissed. "Could you take my parents' things to their chambers, Parker?"

Clearly relieved to be given a task, Parker nods eagerly and starts gathering up their bags. "Yes, mistress."

The moment he's gone, her mother turns to her with a frown. "Who is that boy? Don't you have any proper servants?"

Alex tightens her grip on Matt's arm, silently asking him to remain civil. "Parker is Matt's footman and he is more than adequate, Mother."

"But -"

"Matt saved him and every other staff member we have – aside from the stable hand – from a life of abuse in a workhouse. He gives them a place to stay and pays them for their work." She glances fondly at her husband, who frowns at the floor, uncomfortable with her praise. "Some of them are older now – young men who remain here because Matt treats them well and pays them handsomely, but others are just children who have nowhere else to go. He's done them a great service, Mother."

Startled into silence by an act of kindness from a man she's so predisposed to hate, her mother joins Matt in glaring at the floor and Alex decides they would get along beautifully if they would stop hating each other long enough.

With a sigh, she says, "Now then, we have an hour before dinner. Would you like to rest or -"

"Actually," her father begins, brightening. "I would like to see those horses you spoke of so fondly when you were last home – especially that beast Cerberus."

She grins widely. "Very well, then. Just let me change out of this dress -" Her mother raises an eyebrow but Alex ignores it. "And we can visit the stables."

Instead of staying to entertain her parents in her absence, Matt follows her upstairs to their bedroom but she can't say she blames him for not wanting to be alone with them just yet. There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, he stands by the window of their room and watches with dark eyes as she sheds her dress and petticoats quickly. He sees her naked every night but he still takes such delight in watching her undress. It makes her smile as she turns and presents her back to him. "Unlace me?"

His clever fingers begin to work at her corset and his warm breath stirs her hair as he speaks softly, sending a frisson of desire up her spine. "Your mother will have a fit when she sees you in trousers."

She smiles, the air returning to her lungs as her corset loosens. "Just imagine how furious she'll be when I refuse to ride sidesaddle." He snorts, stepping back as she lets her corset fall to the floor. She turns to press her mouth to his cheek in thanks, slipping from his grasp before he can hold her too tightly. Lifting her chemise over her head, she tosses it away too and smirks when he licks his lips. "And you should really make more of an effort with her – she'll be here for two weeks, you know."

He grunts in acknowledgement, his eyes still on her naked skin as she rummages through his clothes for suitable riding attire. Pulling out a loose white shirt, she slips it on over her head, smoothing the material over the tops of her thighs. "Are you deliberately trying to make it impossible for me to leave this room?" He snaps, shifting uncomfortably.

Alex hides a grin, moving to his side and pressing her frame against him, her mouth at his jaw. "Let my parents see you the way I do, darling, and I shall give you anything you desire tonight."

He growls softly, hands sneaking beneath the shirt she wears to stroke over her naked skin hungrily. "You are all I desire, pet."

"You have me already," she reminds him pointedly. "And you have my parents to thank for that."

As she moves away from him to don a pair of trousers and begin her search for riding boots, he sighs in frustration and rakes his fingers through his floppy hair. "Perhaps I could… show your mother the garden."

She beams at him over her shoulder, tugging one boot on. "I think she would love that."

"And if she decides to murder me while we're alone and bury my body amongst your flowers?" He asks dryly.

She hums thoughtfully as she pulls on the other boot. "Well, at least we won't have to purchase any for your funeral."

"You're becoming as ruthless as I am."

Straightening, Alex laughs softly. "You're a terrible influence, darling."

His grin right before he kisses her is a proud one.

for persephone's sake, my lord

Chapter Summary

Her husband is not a talkative man by nature but lately he's been even more silent and disagreeable than usual. It all started a few days ago, when he'd received that mysterious letter he's been brooding over ever since, whenever he thinks she can't see, and then quickly slipping it into his coat pocket when he notices her looking.

Chapter Notes

For Kaz because she requested it and if I do this, I get Egypt fic. I'M WAITING, KAZ. Story title from Hades by Ron Koertge.

"Are you enjoying your breakfast, darling?"

She only asks because he's glaring at it and she so likes to tease him, even after two years of marriage to the sullen man across the table from her. He grunts wordlessly in reply, a noise just distant enough in tone to let her know he hadn't heard the question so much as her voice and deduced he should respond somehow. Alex sighs and watches him through narrowed eyes, letting her tea go cold.

Her husband is not a talkative man by nature but lately he's been even more silent and disagreeable than usual. It all started a few days ago, when he'd received that mysterious letter he's been brooding over ever since, whenever he thinks she can't see, and then quickly slipping it into his coat pocket when he notices her looking. She's thought about snooping and reading the letter without his permission but she can't bring herself to break his trust in such a way. So she's been waiting, very impatiently, for him to come to her with whatever is troubling him.

The only problem is that he hasn't come to her yet.

She traces her fingertip over the rim of her teacup and watches her husband totally ignore Iris as she brings out a fresh plate of his favorite bread rolls, still warm, steaming and slathered in cream, and sets them right in front of him. He doesn't seem to notice and at Iris's troubled frown, Alex nods her thanks with a gentle smile and waits for the girl to disappear back into the kitchens. The moment she's gone, Alex taps her nails against the table and purses her lips when Matt doesn't even flinch, hand slipping into his jacket pocket to touch the letter, as if to make sure it's still there.

"You know," she says slowly, eyebrow raised, "If I were any other woman and you were any other man, I'd be worried that letter was from a mistress."

This gets his attention, hazel eyes darting up to her face with surprise and a hint of annoyance. "And if you had any sense at all, you'd know that was ridiculous."

"Of course I do," she smirks. "I don't know of another woman on earth who could put up with you." He scowls and her smile widens. "And you certainly don't have the time to slip into another woman's bed, even with your stamina, darling."

"You keep me very busy," he agrees softly, eyes gleaming, and she feels her heart lighten at the first true glimpse of her husband since that blasted letter arrived.

"Not lately," she accuses, attempting not to sound petulant. "A piece of paper occupies your interest far more easily than I now."

He looks contrite instantly; a heavy sigh on his lips as he drops his eyes. "I'm sorry, pet. I haven't meant to neglect you."

"Then why have you?"

He shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. "I received a letter that reminded me of my past and I haven't been able to stop dwelling on it – on things long buried." He lifts his eyes again, mouth twisted in a wry smile as she reaches a hand across the table and covers his with her own. "But no more. I promise."

"Oh?" She looks down at their hands as he turns his over and laces their fingers together; smiling at the way his hand dwarfs hers. "And why is that?"

"Because I've just remembered none of it matters anymore." He brings their joined hands to his mouth and kisses her knuckles reverently. "Not when I have you."

"Done brooding then?" She lifts an eyebrow, grinning.

He frowns, lips lingering over her knuckles. "I don't brood."

She snorts. "Darling, you invented it."

"Is that so?" He raises a thin brow and smirks. "I was going to take the afternoon away from my office and spend my time making the last few days up to you, but I suppose you'd rather not be in my brooding presence?"

She sniffs, secretly thrilled to entice him away from his work, if only for a short while. "I said you are the founding father of brooding – I never said I didn't like it."

Matt chuckles, low and soft, and she feels heat trickle up her spine. It has been far too many days since her husband has touched her as he ought. "Good. I plan to brood over every inch of you after breakfast."

Pushing her tea aside, she lifts a playful eyebrow and watches his eyes sparkle. "It's after breakfast."

Dark gaze sliding over her and that letter clearly long forgotten, Matt captures her hand again and brushes his mouth softly over the inside of her wrist. His tongue flicks against her pulse point and she shudders, humming her approval. She's mere seconds from dragging him from the dining room and up to their chambers by the collar of his pressed shirt but the sound of someone knocking at the door stops her in her tracks. Her heart sinks in disappointment. The only people to ever visit here – besides her parents just once – are Matt's clients. He'll be preoccupied this morning after all, and with one of his clientele in the house, he'll surely send her away out of sight. He still hates for any of the people he deals with to so much as lay eyes on her and after what happened last time, Alex doesn't complain.

Matt sighs as they both listen to the sound of hurried footsteps running to answer the door, raking long fingers through his floppy hair. "Who the devil calls on me at breakfast? Are they suicidal?"

"Darling," she chides, pushing aside her disappointment. He'll make it up to her eventually – Matt is always very generous after a row, however small. "What have I told you about treating your clients like people instead of cattle?"

He harrumphs and grumbles about her rubbish advice under his breath, sitting back heavily in his seat and finally releasing her hand. Alex smoothes a hand over her corset and clears her throat, hoping she doesn't look too flushed for their visitor. Just in case, she picks up her teacup and lets

the steam caress her face as an excuse. It only takes another moment or so before Parker wanders into the dining room, cap wadded into a ball in his hands as he bounces anxiously on his heels.

Turning her attention to him while Matt continues to glare at his untouched breakfast, Alex notices the young woman standing behind him instantly – a tall, thin, strikingly beautiful brunette "Parker?"

The boy clears his throat and risks a nervous glance at Matt, who still isn't paying him any mind. "Miss Laura Smith, Mistress."

"Smith?" Alex puts down her teacup before she drops it. "Your relation, darling?"

Matt doesn't answer, eyes tightly shut and jaw clenched.

Stepping out from behind Parker, Laura offers a tentative smile and a wave. "I'm his sister."

Gasping in surprise and coughing a little, Alex blinks away the sting of tears and gapes at her husband. "You have a sister?"

"No." Matt opens his eyes but does not look up, picking at his cold breakfast and ignoring Laura entirely. "Not for a very long time."

Laura looks pained by his words, brow pinched together and lips pursed. "Matty -"

The pet name catches Alex off guard and she can only stare right along with Parker at the family drama unfolding in front of her. Matt had told her one night not long after they first consummated their marriage that he'd grown up in a workhouse after he lost his parents but never once had he mentioned a sister.

"I told you that you were not welcome here," he says through gritted teeth. His jaw flexes and he looks like he might either have a tantrum or be ill any moment.

Laura huffs. "You never answered my letter!"

"And I assumed you would get the hint," he snaps. "You're not welcome."

"Matthew!" Alex scolds, appalled. "You cannot speak to your sister that way. Honestly, where are your manners?" Turning watery, grateful eyes to her, Laura says nothing but studies her with strange intensity. Alex glances away and nods at Parker. "Take her things upstairs to a guest room, Parker -"

Matt slams a fist against the dining room table, rattling the plates and teacups, and despite herself, Alex can't help but jump like a frightened rabbit. At the sound of her startled gasp, Matt softens instantly, lifting apologetic hazel eyes to her face. "Pet…" He trails off, sounding choked. "Alex. Please."

She holds his gaze for a long moment and realizes that for whatever reason, he cannot even be in the same room with this woman. No matter who Laura is and how impolite it may be to turn her away, her first priority is Matt, who rarely asks for anything and is practically begging her now.

For him, she'll turn his sister out of the house without a hint of remorse if he'll just stop looking at her like that. "All right, darling," she says softly. "I'll send her away if you like but she's made quite the journey to be here, I imagine. Perhaps she should rest upstairs first before she leaves again – you won't even have to see her."

He drops his eyes back to his plate and slowly unclenches his fist. "Fine," he mutters with a grudging nod.

Breathing out a quiet sigh of relief, Alex nods once at Parker and manages a thin smile for Laura, who looks stricken. "Parker will show you to a room upstairs, dear. Just follow him."

The moment they're gone, Alex whirls on her husband. "Well?"

"Well what?" Matt refuses to meet her gaze, his whole lanky frame taut with tension.

She sighs, standing fluidly and rounding the table. He tenses for only a moment when she presses a hand to his shoulder but the moment she feels him relax again, she squeezes gently. "You have a sister."

He grunts, shrugging beneath her hand.

Alex strokes her fingers through his hair and promises herself that no matter what happens, this will not be an argument where she chucks something at his head. She will hold her temper and not allow him to provoke her – not this time. "Why didn't you tell me, darling?"

Leaning into her touch, he doesn't answer for a long moment but she doesn't push him, waiting patiently. "I haven't seen her in a very long time – didn't even know if she was still alive."

"You were estranged, then," she surmises quietly, gentle fingers stroking the back of his neck now. "Did you quarrel?"

"Something like that," he murmurs, hanging his head.

"Darling -"

"I wasn't always like this, pet." He sighs. "I was… weak."

"Weak?"

"Soft. Kind. Not a violent bone in my body." He smirks hollowly. "You would have found me quite dull."

Alex pauses, caught off guard by the idea of Matt being anything other than what he is. Of course, she'd known he wasn't born a taciturn babe and grown into a surly young man but hearing him say it conjures all sorts of strange visuals. Every time she pictures him a tiny little boy in a cruel workhouse, she longs to cradle him to her bosom and never let go. "I believe I would love you whether you were a brute or a poet, darling." She bends her head, pressing a soft kiss to his crown and inhaling the scent of his hair, sweet and tart like pomegranates. "But what happened? Why did you change?"

"Because people take advantage of good, honest men," he says simply. "And Laura needed me to take care of her."

"You were a good brother," she observes quietly. "And you're still a good man, whether you believe it or not."

He laughs, a wooden sound of disbelief, and catches her hand, turning his head to kiss her palm. "You're the only one to think so, pet. Even Laura lost her faith in me."

"Apparently not," she points out. "She's here, isn't she?"

"Not for long." Matt drops her hand and rises to his feet, stepping away from her. "I want her out of the house before dinner."

"Darling, be reasonable -"

"Alex," he says sternly. "I won't have her here. She left me – like I was some sort of monster -"

"You're not a monster," she snaps, eyes flashing. "And if she says anything of the kind, I will be the first to turn her out of the house and hope the fog eats her alive." His eyes darken, the way they always do when he sees his influence in her. Alex smoothes her fingers over his cravat and sighs. "But I think you should try to reconcile with your sister."

Matt clenches his jaw stubbornly. "Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't need her," he snaps, nostrils flaring. "She was the only family I had and she left me. Now I have you, infuriating harlot you may be, and a hundred ragamuffin orphans – she isn't my family anymore."

Alex bites back a smile – it's the closest he has ever come to calling the children his family and she knows he would scowl and recant the whole thing if she points it out now. Instead, she frames his dear face in her hands and brushes her lips softly over his, allowing him to draw her in and hold her close. "You held onto her letter and barely spoke to me for days, darling. Clearly, its arrival affected you." He frowns and she kisses him again, wondering if perhaps she should try doing this more often rather than getting angry and throwing things, until she remembers how beautifully they always make up. "Perhaps you owe yourself the chance to start over."

He shakes his head. "It's just not possible, pet. It was too long ago -"

"Exactly." She smiles. "It was a long time ago. Perhaps she's changed. She could have come to apologize and ask for a fresh start."

"Even if she has changed, I have too." He slips from her grasp and paces away from her. "I've turned out exactly as she said I would."

Trailing after him as he strides from the room and in the direction of his study, Alex hurries to keep up. "I think you're making a mistake if you let her leave without at least speaking to her."

"I'll keep that in mind, pet," he says dryly, and she huffs, wishing desperately for something to throw at him. "Now I have business to conduct -"

"I thought you were taking the afternoon off?"

He whirls on her in the doorway to his study, eyes dark and amused. "You want me to take you upstairs and undress you with my sister just down the hall? What an exhibitionist you are, Alex."

"Oh, I hate you very much," she seethes, leaning into him.

His arm encircles her waist and he hums softly, mouth brushing her ear. "You can show me just how much later. I'm all yours tonight."

"You're mine every night," she counters, reveling in his soft laughter.

"And every day," he agrees. "Now get out of my sight, you distracting harridan."

She slips from his arms with a smile but stops him from shutting the door to his study. "Think about what I've said? Please?" She bites her lip hopefully. "Wouldn't you like to have your sister here for Christmas dinner and have someone on your side when my parents come to stay? Don't you want her to be a part of your life again? This is your chance, darling."

Matt eyes her grimly, unconvinced. "Make sure she rests. She has a long journey ahead of her tonight."

He shuts the door in her face and she rolls her eyes, stalking off with a muttered promise to return later with a book to throw – a heavy one.

It doesn't take her long to find the room Parker had led Laura to, since he's still standing sentry outside the door. "Just in case the Master's sister needs anything," he explains in a conspiratorial whisper.

Ruffling his dark hair, Alex whispers back her thanks and dismisses him. "Keep your master company for me, will you? Keep him in good spirits."

Eager as always to be of service – especially when it means spending time with Matt – Parker tips his cap at her and scurries off down the corridor. She knocks on Laura's door only once before slipping inside, but the young woman doesn't look up, perched on the edge of her bed and staring down at her hands folded in her lap.

"Are you quite alright, dear? Would you like me to have one of the girls fetch you a cuppa?"

"No, thank you. For the offer and for the room." Laura sighs, studying her fingers intently. "I was foolish to come here; I see that now."

"You've got to give him time, dear." Alex leans against the bedpost and watches her with sympathy. "You caught him off guard with your visit and if there's anything my husband doesn't like, it's being taken by surprise."

Laura snort softly. "Time? He's given me until dinner – hardly enough time to change his mind when he won't even see me." She inclines her head suddenly toward the door. "Is he yours?"

"Who?"

"The boy."

Alex frowns. "Of course not. Matt and I haven't been married nearly long enough to have a child

as old as Parker."

Startled, Laura shakes her head, brown eyes wide. "Oh, forgive me – I meant I thought he might have been your child from a previous marriage."

Lifting her chin, Alex purses her lips and pushes away from the bedpost, standing a little straighter. "My marriage to your brother is my first."

Laura flushes up to her ears, remarkably like her brother in that aspect. "I'm sorry," she says, wincing. "You are older than I imagined when I heard my brother had married and I assumed – I'm sorry."

Softening and filled with pity for this unsure young woman – once a little girl clinging to her brother for comfort – Alex sighs and crosses the remaining distance between them to settle onto the edge of the bed. "I can't have children," she explains, attempting not to sound pained by the confession. It still bothers her at times. Even with Matt's orphans always around, she still finds herself wondering what a child of his might be like – what he would be like with a child of his own. She shakes her head to dislodge the images her mind conjures, mustering a small smile for Laura. "As you can imagine, it made finding a suitable match difficult. I'd resigned myself to my status as an old maid until Matt. He didn't care about having children – only me."

"He must love you very much," Laura observes, looking puzzled.

Smiling softly, Alex nods. The ways Matt shows her that he loves her – refusing to let his clients near her, buying her a knife and insisting she carry it with her when she wanders the manor grounds, never retaliating when she throws things at him – may be a little unconventional but she wouldn't have it any other way.

Laura laughs quietly. "I can't imagine my brother courting anybody."

"Well, he didn't exactly court me." Alex sighs, biting her lip and wondering if perhaps she should refrain from saying anything at all – she's only too aware of what this information will sound like to an outsider – but Laura is already looking at her curiously and she forges ahead. "I married him to settle a debt my parents could not repay. He gave us a choice – I would marry him or we would lose our home and our land."

Horrified, Laura stares at her in dismay. "My god. He truly is as terrible as everyone says."

"No, he isn't." Alex clenches her fists in her lap and shakes her head, wishing everyone could know Matt's heart the way she does. "He's – alright, yes, he's angry and formidable and quite violent when he needs to be but he's also a good man."

Laura scoffs. "That's quite a contradiction. How can he be both?"

Shrugging, Alex smiles. "He's good to those he loves and who love him in turn."

"And you love him? The man who forced you into marriage?"

"He didn't force me," Alex frowns. "I chose to marry him. And yes, I do – more than anything." She sighs, running a hand through her curls and belatedly realizing her hair is down as Matt prefers and hardly fit for polite company. She pushes her hair from her shoulders and tucks it behind her ears, hoping she looks respectable enough for a near stranger. "It was… difficult at first but eventually, I came to see him for what he was."

"And what was that?"

"A bitter, lonely young man who needed companionship and love. He'd been alone for quite some time before he found me."

Laura glances away guiltily, wringing her hands in her lap.

Placing a soothing hand on her knee, Alex asks, "What happened between the two of you?"

"He hasn't told you?"

"Only that you left him."

Laura flinches, closing her eyes. "Yes, I did. I thought I was doing the right thing at the time but I've doubted myself many times over the years. It was my fault, I suppose. After we lost our parents, Matt took it upon himself to take care of me. I'm his big sister. I should have been looking after him. But he was always there when I needed him. We took care of each other in that horrible

place." She sniffles, eyes watering, and reaches into the sleeve of her gown for a handkerchief. "We left as soon as we could and Matt – he was always working somewhere, anywhere that would take him. He had apprenticeships with blacksmiths and tailors but nothing ever lasted." She smiles softly, her eyes far away and reminiscent. "He was always so clumsy."

Enjoying the thought of Matt as an assistant to a tailor and always pricking himself with the needle, Alex smiles right along with her and resolves to ask her husband about it later. She'd like to hear about his teenage exploits and perhaps, if she plies him with enough brandy, he'll tell her.

"And then one day I got myself into a bit of trouble." Laura glances at her, biting her lip uncertainly. "I… I was young and I had no skills. I did things for money I'm not proud of. I was in debt and owed quite a few people quite a lot of money. And Matt, he promised to pay all of my debts for me, except he didn't have a job at the time and he was running out of reputable places that would hire him."

"So he found somewhere disreputable," Alex guesses, her chest aching when Laura nods. Her husband's first foray into a life of crime had been for the good of his sister.

Wiping her nose delicately with her handkerchief, Laura sniffs and squares her shoulders. "When he did as asked of him, the man refused to pay him. I suppose he thought they could take advantage of a teenage boy with no family to speak of but he underestimated just how determined my brother could be when it came to me. I think he grew tired of always being the downtrodden orphan."

Alex squeezes the girl's hand, heart in her throat. "What happened, Laura?"

"He beat the man nearly senseless with his own walking stick." Laura swallows thickly, eyes filling up again. "And then he took the money he was owed right from the man's pocket. Of course, I didn't find out what he'd done until he came home to wash the blood from his hands and I -" Laura pauses, shaking her head. "I panicked. I was so horrified that he would stoop to such violence and I said terrible things to him. I was… I was afraid of him, to be honest. So I left."

"After what he did for you?" It's impossible to keep the disgust out of her voice but Alex can't bring herself to care, too affected by the idea of Matt resorting to a life of crime to save his sister, only to be abandoned by her. She wants to leave the room right now, wants to run downstairs to his study and throw herself into his arms. She curls her hands into the blanket beneath her to keep from doing just that. "You just left him?"

"I'm not proud of it," Laura says in a voice that wobbles. "I was young and frightened. But since then, I've heard things about him – he's grown worse as he's grown older. He's a cruel man, a

tyrant -"

"He isn't," Alex snaps. "He did what he's always done, the only thing he's ever known how to do

– survive."

Laura ducks her head and places her handkerchief over her trembling mouth. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't me who deserves the apology," she says gently, already softening toward the girl again. It must be a shared Smith family trait – she can never stay angry with them for long.

Smiling weakly, Laura drops the handkerchief and Alex notices suddenly that she has exactly the same cheekbones and the same mouth shape as her brother. "You're the reason I decided to write to him, you know. I heard that he'd married and I thought perhaps it meant he'd changed."

"He doesn't have to change," Alex says patiently. "I love him as he is and so should you. If you can manage that, you're welcome to stay for dinner and if not, then it was lovely to meet you, dear, but please don't trouble my husband again."

If anything, Laura's smile only grows. "He's very lucky to have you. He needs someone on his side – the way I couldn't be."

Unsure of just how to respond to that, Alex only pats her hand and rises to her feet, intending to leave the girl to her thoughts for a while and hope for the best, but the moment she reaches the door, she turns suddenly and says, "Parker is an orphan from a workhouse in town. Matt took him in and gave him a place to stay. In fact, nearly every staff member in our employ used to live in a workhouse at one time or another. Once Matt took Parker in, others started to show up and he didn't have the heart to turn them away. He gives them a job and money and a roof over their heads – he says it was more than he ever had growing up." Laura stares at her with wide, wet eyes. "I'm very lucky to have him too, Miss Smith."

Alex spends the remainder of the day out of the house, helping Benson in the stables and spending time with the horses. She takes Cerberus for a ride on the moors, the knife Matt had given her tucked away into her riding boot and Benson on another horse right behind her. She tends to her garden and frets, waiting for the moment she'll see Laura walk out of the house with her bag and ask for a ride into town. She never does and eventually, the time for dinner grows near.

Heading into the manor and up the stairs to change out of her dirty trousers and shirt and back into a corset and gown, Alex meets her husband on the stairs and loops her arm through his, leading him toward their chambers with her. "Did you manage to get any work done, darling?"

He nods, looking pensive as he strokes his thumb absently over the crook of her elbow. "A bit. I'll have to go into town tomorrow to collect payment."

"Need any company?"

He scowls. "Absolutely not."

She huffs. "Are you at least taking Benson?"

"Yes, yes. I hardly need looking after but if it'll keep you quiet."

She leans in and kisses his cheek, satisfied.

"And how was your day, pet?"

"Quiet. I took Cerberus for a ride after it stopped raining."

He frowns. "Did you take Benson?"

Alex smirks and tosses her curls mockingly. "Yes, yes. I hardly need looking after but it keeps you quiet."

Opening the door to their chambers, Matt glowers. "Very funny."

Sweeping past him into their room, she waits until he shuts the door and starts stripping out of her muddy clothes. Instead of changing his coat and cravat before dinner, Matt lounges against the wall and watches her with dark eyes. It's been days since he's touched her and now that the

business with his sister has come to a head, she imagines he's having a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. She takes her time finding something to wear, wandering about the room without a stitch of clothing on and enjoying his interested gaze.

"I invited Laura to dinner," she says, glancing over her shoulder as she pulls out a clean shift. "So please be on your best behavior."

Matt stands up straighter, eyes narrowed. "I said I wanted her out of the house by dinner, not at the table."

"Yes, and with all due respect, darling, I ignored you." She pulls the shift over her head and smoothes it out, reaching for a corset. "You need to at least speak to her."

"No, I really don't." Matt strides up behind her and begins to tug on her corset, lacing it tightly. Alex wraps her hands around the bedpost for balance and sucks in a breath, grimacing.

"She's sorry, Matt." He tugs on the laces roughly and she gasps through her teeth. "She wants to reconcile."

Matt grunts a reply, long, nimble fingers working to tie the ribbons of her corset with fierce, jerky movements. Slowly robbed of breath, Alex clings to the bedpost and shuts her eyes, for a moment not thinking about anything at all but those hands at her back, tugging forcefully. The more she can't breathe, the more her stomach floods with heat. Face flushed, she inhales raggedly and exhales on a whimper.

Behind her, Matt freezes for a brief moment and she shuts her eyes, waiting. Slowly, he finishes tying off her corset at the bottom and trails his fingertips up her spine through layered fabric and whalebone. Mouth brushing across the back of her neck, he slides a hand over her hip, his fingertips hot even through the silk of her shift. "I would have you right now," he says softly, warm breath against her skin making her shudder. "If I knew you could keep quiet."

Reaching behind her to grasp his hand and keep it in place on her thigh, Alex tilts her head back and looks at him with a wry grin. "I could try."

"And fail miserably, my dear." His kiss is quick and light before he steps away from her, as if he doesn't trust himself to do anything else without throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her to bed. He looks a little flushed and out of sorts, though, so Alex counts it as a win. "I'll have dinner with her and then I expect her to leave."

Beaming, she turns from him to select a dress from her wardrobe. "That's all I ask, darling."

"The only reason I'm agreeing is because you asked, pet."

She smiles softly, pausing in her rummage through her wardrobe to turn and look at him, finding him frowning at his assortment of cravats. "I know. Thank you." She picks out the dress he'd bought for her when she first arrived here, a green gown he'd claimed matched her eyes. Stepping into it, she waits for Matt to finish tying his new cravat before turning her back to him and letting him do up the buttons. "I have a good feeling about this."

He hums noncommittally, quick fingers working at her dress.

"You'll see," she says, smiling to herself. "It'll be a lovely dinner."

Dinner is a quiet, tense, and slightly awkward affair.

Alex struggles to make light-hearted conversation but Matt refuses to take his eyes from his plate and Laura is too busy stealing glimpses of her brother out of the corner of her eye to truly engage Alex in any sort of tête-à-tête. She forges ahead anyway, uncomfortable with the tension. "Laura, why don't you tell us what you've done while the two of you have been apart?" She smiles and prods gently, "Any suitors? There must be – look at you!"

Laura grins widely, her lovely features suddenly more animated than Alex has yet seen them. "Actually, I'm betrothed to a wonderful man called James. We're to wed this summer."

"Is that why you're here?" The sudden sound of Matt's voice makes both women jump, turning to stare at him. He glances up from his plate and eyes his sister with contempt. "You need money?"

Alex lays a quelling hand on his knee beneath the table.

Laura glares at him, cheeks flushed with agitation. "I don't want your filthy money – I know

exactly how you've earned it. And James has more than enough to pay for our wedding."

"Really? Well, that's reassuring." His smile is cold and Alex's heart climbs into her throat as she squeezes his knee in warning. "Where did the two of you meet? In a broth -"

"Matthew," she hisses.

He stops abruptly; either at her reprimand or the stricken expression on his sister's face. His eyes flicker and he looks almost apologetic, mouth a grim line as he clears his throat and offers his sister his full attention. "That was uncalled for," he admits stiffly.

"You're trying to push me away," Laura says primly, eyeing him with reproach. "You want me to leave while it's still your decision if I go and I understand that."

Matt blinks at her, silent.

"But you should stop acting like such a horrible brute for my sake because I know exactly what a soft spot you have, looking after the children you employ – the ones who were just like us, once upon a time. Or they would be, if we'd had somewhere else to go – the safe haven that you've given them." Laura smiles widely and Alex can't help but stare, wondering if Matt would look so dazzling if he bothered to smile like that. "You're still my Matty underneath that scowl, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not," he snaps, frowning, but Laura continues to smile at him. "Your brother grew up, Laura, and became exactly what you feared he would."

"You grew into a kind man," she counters. "At least around those who have earned your love. Your wife showed me that."

Matt glances at Alex and she flushes, shrugging lightly. "Will you never learn to mind your own business?"

"You are my business, darling."

He sighs and gulps at his wine.

Laura clears her throat, drawing their attention back to her. "I would like to try earning your kindness, Matty, if you'd let me." She smiles tearfully, watching Matt with all the protective tenderness of an older sister. "I want my brother to love me again."

Breathing out quietly through his nose, Matt sets down his goblet of wine hard enough to send the liquid inside spilling over the top and snaps, "I never stopped, you stupid girl."

Laura bursts into tears.

Instantly alarmed, Matt turns wide eyes on Alex and gives her a pleading look, as if asking her to make it stop right this instant. Rolling her eyes, Alex summons a handkerchief from her bosom and offers it to his sister, making soothing shushing noises while the girl sniffles and dabs at her face. "I'm sorry," she says, voice catching. "I just – I've missed you so much."

Shifting uncomfortable, Matt nods once.

"It's mutual," Alex translates, smirking.

He offers her a withering look she returns with a wink.

Laura wipes at her eyes delicately with the corner of her handkerchief. "You'll have to come to the wedding now, of course." She beams. "Both of you. Oh, I have a sister-in-law now. I've always wanted a sister, you know."

Alex smiles and reaches across the table to take the girl's hand.

"I don't do weddings," Matt mumbles into his wine goblet. "Except my own."

"Ignore him, we'll be there," Alex says pointedly, nudging him under the table with her foot. "Do you need help planning?"

Letting out an adorably delighted squeal, Laura nearly bounces in her seat and Alex decides

they'll get along just fine. "Are you the one taking care of those gorgeous flowers outside? I simply must have a bouquet and I was thinking perhaps you could come with me to -"

"Don't you dare take my wife away to plan your bloody nuptials, Lor," Matt frowns at her. "Or I will actually make good on my threat to toss you out."

Without a word, Laura leans across the distance between them and kisses his cheek. Matt scowls but his mouth twitches and Alex watches him with a grin, knowing how happy he is to have his sister back even if he refuses to show it outwardly. With a gasp, Laura stands from her seat abruptly and they stare up at her in surprise. "I must write to James this instant. He'll want to know everything and oh, I can't wait to tell him. I wish I could see his face when he reads who we're to add on our guest list." She smiles so widely Alex's cheeks ache in sympathy, darting down once more to press a kiss to her brother's cheek before excusing herself in a flurry of skirts and shining chestnut hair.

The moment she's gone, Matt collapses back into his seat as if the encounter has physically drained him. Alex watches him like the cat that ate the canary, waiting smugly for him to look at her before she says, "I told you so."

He eyes her balefully. "Do shut up, pet."

"On the contrary, darling." She grins loftily, rising from her chair and lifting him from his by the collar of his dinner jacket. He sways into her instantly, big hands settling on her hips and those dark, dark eyes boring into hers with all the love and tenderness she has earned by simply staying. "You're going to take me to bed and I have no intention of being quiet."

He kisses her hard and she knows he doesn't mind at all. She only hopes Laura doesn't either.

she has never seen the meadow without daisies

Chapter Summary

"Oh stop it," she says, frowning. "You want to see your sister get married more than I do and your sullen act is not fooling me for a moment." She fusses briefly over the flower in his lapel he'd balked at wearing. "Now go find her before the music starts – she can hardly walk down the aisle without you."

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone the Wanderer by Louise Gluck

"Oh, darling, look." Alex curls her fingers around his bicep and grins, pointing with her other hand to the front of the church as her husband guides her down the aisle. "They must be James' parents. Doesn't he look exactly like this father?"

He grunts his agreement without actually looking, far too intent on avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room as he ushers her toward their seats. "I still don't see why our presence is required here."

Alex sighs and allows herself to lean into the touch of his hand at the small of her back. It had taken a considerable amount of her willpower – and all of her womanly wiles – to get Matt to agree to attend his own sister's wedding. He dislikes being around most people and large groups in particular, though she can't say she blames him. Most of them openly gawk but she forces a bright smile and offers a polite wave in return – they always glance away looking abashed. "Because it will make your sister happy and we don't want to miss her wedding day," she reiterates for the tenth time since they left the manor four days ago to make the journey.

"You don't want to miss it. I would be perfectly content reading all about it in a letter," he grumbles, helping her to sit in a pew near the front of the church.

"Oh stop it," she says, frowning. "You want to see your sister get married more than I do and your sullen act is not fooling me for a moment." She fusses briefly over the flower in his lapel he'd balked at wearing. "Now go find her before the music starts – she can hardly walk down the aisle without you."

Muttering something under his breath to the equivalent of just as well then, Matt leaves her side reluctantly and starts off back down the aisle to search out the bride. The sound of the organ fills the church just as he strides out of sight and Alex glances to the front of the room to find James standing at the altar, bouncing anxiously on his heels, hands behind his back and a nervous grin on his handsome face. Tucked into his lapel is a bright, perfect daisy, cultivated from Alex's garden. Laura had insisted both of their boys have them.

Settling as comfortably as she can into the stiff-backed pew – she hasn't stepped foot in a church since she married Matt and she can't say she misses the tedious Sunday sermons and crowded wooden pews – Alex smoothes a hand over her gown and resists the urge to fiddle with her tightly pinned updo. It feels strange to have her hair off her shoulders now that she's so accustomed to keeping it down around the manor. She can't help but suspect part of the reason for Matt's ill temper this morning is because he so hates seeing her hair up.

She fiddles with her gloves instead, tugging at them pointlessly and attempting not to look around too much. She doesn't know anyone here but the bride, groom and her husband and she can feel curious eyes on her as everyone here tries to figure out what her relation to the bride must be.

The organ music swells and reaches its crescendo as the church doors open and Alex stands with the rest of the crowd, turning to look as Laura appears, her arm linked through her brother's. Dressed in a white muslin gown and a white silk shawl, a bouquet of daisies clutched in her hand, she looks absolutely radiant. Her gaze rests solely on James and when Alex glances from her to the groom, she finds James flushed and grinning, the perfect picture of a man in love.

Eyes stinging, she wishes desperately for a handkerchief and tries not to cry as Matt begins escorting his sister down the aisle. The whispers begin almost immediately, and not all of them about the bride. Standing tall and imposing in his fine suit and hat, Matt looks as devilishly handsome and intimidating as ever to anyone else but Alex can see unease in the set of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes, along with that soft look he can't ever manage to hide whenever his sister is near.

Behind her, Alex hears hushed voices as the pair passes by on their way to the altar. "Do you know who that is?"

"Who doesn't? Lord, but he's terrifying. Why in heaven's name is the orphan girl allowing that beast to give her away? Does he own her too?"

"Actually, I heard he's her long lost brother. Imagine, dear sweet James is moments from being related to the wickedest, most merciless bloodsucker in possibly the whole of England -"

"Oh, Gladys, don't exaggerate -"

"I'm not." She sniffs. "Did you know he not only kidnaps orphans but women too? That's how he got his wife, though I hear now she's just as bad as he is. He corrupted her, you see. And now look at him, tainting the whole ceremony." She tuts. "Shameful."

Hands clenched tightly around the back of the pew in front of her and face flushed with anger, Alex struggles not to turn around and tell them exactly what she thinks of them, gritting her teeth. She will not ruin Laura's wedding by strangling the loathsome, horrible people behind her. She breathes in deeply through her nose, biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood, and forces her gaze to the front of the church, where Matt stiffly gives away his sister to James.

Arm linked through her fiancé's, Laura turns and presses a swift, grateful cheek to her brother's, smiling happily. Behind Alex, the women tsk disapprovingly. Matt slips from his sister's grasp to walk down the aisle and join Alex. She allows herself a vindictive smile as he settles in next to her and takes her hand – the horror of the women behind her is practically palpable. Unable to resist another second, she turns and glances over her shoulder at them. "Hello," she says with a smile, watching them all stiffen. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Mrs. Merciless Bloodsucker."

As one, the group of women in the pew behind her pale, looking absolutely mortified.

Snorting under his breath, Matt tugs at her wrist and murmurs with amusement, "Down, pet."

His fingertips rest lightly against the inside of her wrist. Alex relaxes at once, offering the women behind her one last steely-eyed glare before turning to face the front of the church again, where Laura and James stand in front of the priest, beaming at each other.

Attempting to forget the outright lies of the women behind her – no doubt reflecting what everyone else thinks as well – she leans into her husband and watches the ceremony begin. Matt laces his fingers through hers, gazing straight ahead without a hint of emotion, but she knows him better than he'd like. "I must say, despite the miserable upbringing the two of you had, you managed to choose your partners surprisingly well."

He scowls. "You call that empty-headed fool a good choice?"

She rolls her eyes.

Laura had dragged James to the manor to visit before their nuptials nearly two months ago, eager to introduce her fiancé to her long lost brother and his wife. While she and Laura talked wedding plans and flower arrangements, Matt had taken James to his study, given him a cigar, and attempted to scare the bejesus out of him. Poor James had remained blissfully oblivious to his threats, grinning widely and innocently – like a kitten unaware that the snarling beast would happily eat it. Unused to the inability to leave every man, woman, and child shaking in their shoes, Matt has looked unfavorably upon James ever since.

"Just because he isn't afraid of you does not mean he's an idiot." Turning his head, he eyes her with incredulity and she wilts a little under his gaze. "Alright, perhaps he isn't the brightest young man but he's handsome and wealthy and he loves your sister dearly. That is far more than many young women ever get."

"Yes, slightly better than average – what an aspiration for my sister to strive for," he mutters, and then strokes his thumb lightly across her knuckles. "I, on the other hand, have impeccable taste."

Smiling at the quiet show of affection, Alex turns her head and bites her lip lest he see just how giddy the simple words make her – a girl has to have some secrets, after all. Instantly met with the stare of the old woman beside her, unashamedly gaping at the pair of them, Alex gathers her patience and smiles through her teeth.

Startled, the old biddy quickly turns away, blushing.

Satisfied, she leans further into the warmth and safety of her husband's side. "For once, darling, we actually agree."

"It's hardly the first time," he says, smirking. "I seem to recall just the other night, we both agreed that you were wearing far too much -"

"Matthew," she hisses, mortified.

To their right, someone shushes them.

Matt whirls instantly to glare down the pew at whomever the offending person had been and Alex doesn't look but she hears someone gasp in alarm and the creak of the pew as they shrink back into their seat with a muttered, "Forgive me, sir."

Attempting to distract her husband, Alex taps at his knee and directs his focus back to her before he snarls something rude and catches the attention of the priest and the besotted couple at the altar. "She looks beautiful, doesn't she?"

He hums once in agreement, taking her hand from his knee and cupping it between his own larger ones with surprising tenderness considering his mood. "So did you," he says softly, referring to their own wedding day just loud enough for her alone to hear. "I never got the chance to say it."

Blushing, Alex grips his hand and struggles to pay attention to the ceremony. "Thank you, darling."

The rest of the ceremony is beautiful and focused entirely on Laura and James. By the end of it, Alex is sniffling along with everyone else and Matt sighs at her tears, producing a handkerchief and pushing it into her hands without comment. Taking it gratefully, Alex dabs at her eyes and sniffs as the couple at the altar leans in to kiss with beaming grins, officially husband and wife.

They stand along with everyone else to go outside and watch the happy couple's procession back down the aisle and to their carriage. The moment Laura reaches them, she escapes James' grip on her arm and rushes to them, smile luminescent. She hugs Matt first, her arms tight around his neck and her face pressed into his jacket collar. "Thank you for coming, Matty," she whispers. "We'll visit soon, I promise."

He nods, hugging her back briefly before dropping his arms with a pinched look, as if he can't begin to understand why she must cling to him in public where everyone can see. Matt depends on everyone being frightened of him – it's his livelihood and the only reason he gets his money quickly and efficiently – but she knows that's only part of it. He finds it difficult being affectionate with most people other than Alex. Even Parker, undoubtedly his favorite, never gets more than the occasional hair ruffle.

Alex presses a hand against his back and smiles encouragingly, feeling him relax at her touch before Laura launches herself at her as well. "And you – the flowers were absolutely beautiful."

Framing the girl's face in her hands, Alex smiles. "Not nearly so much as you. Have a lovely honeymoon, dear."

They release each other just in time to see Matt attempting to crush the bones in James' fingers as they shake hands, dark eyes boring into James' open, friendly ones. "Take care of my sister," he says simply, and Alex wonders if she's the only one to hear or else.

James grins at him. "She's my first priority, of course. Just as you've taught me."

Matt frowns. "I didn't -"

"You teach by example, brother." James glances at Alex with a wink.

Staring at him and clearly flustered, Matt snaps his mouth shut after a long moment and nods once. "Good."

Alex turns her face into his shoulder, hiding a smile.

Without further delay, Laura and James climb into their waiting carriage and the gathered crowd sees them off, waving and shouting their goodbyes until they disappear down the lane. As the well-wishers begin to disperse, still casting Lord and Lady Smith suspicious glances, Alex stands with Matt in the middle of the church yard, content to bask in the morning summer air with his arm around her waist. "Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"

Glancing away from staring down the street where Laura's carriage had been, Matt frowns. "What?"

"What our wedding could have been like if things had been different." She feels a pang in her heart at the thought, wishing she could remember her wedding day as Laura will remember hers – beautiful and happy and full of love. "I wish I could have known then what I know now." She glances at her husband and finds him staring blankly ahead, jaw tight. "How much I would grow to love you."

He blinks, arm tightening around her waist. "Perhaps if I'd taken the time to court you, it might have been."

She laughs softly, wondering what she would have thought of a volatile loan shark writing her sonnets and asking her to accompany him on carriage rides. "Do you regret it then? Taking me away?"

"Never," is his instant, growling reply.

She smiles, feeling his lips linger at her temple. "Me either."

tell me you loved to destroy

Chapter Summary

Sometimes, her husband surprises even her with his romantic gestures.

Chapter Notes

Story title from 'tell me losing everything is what saved you' by Clementine Von Radics.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Sometimes, her husband surprises even her with his romantic gestures. She sits in the middle of their chambers surrounded by gifts, each one more lavish and expensive than the next. "Honestly, darling, it's our anniversary – not the birth of a messiah." She glances around the room at all of her lovely things – elaborate gowns and very rare books, necklaces and rings and bracelets, jeweled hairpins and earrings, a pair of silk slippers with pearls sew into them. Her earlier gifts – a new suit, a bottle of his favorite brandy and a pocket watch – seem to pale in comparison to all this. She strokes a finger along the beaded bodice of a gorgeous ruby gown and bites her lip. "They're all rather exquisite, though."

Lurking in the doorway, Matt smirks. "As if I would present you with anything less, pet."

She flushes, glancing away quickly and busying herself by toying with the matching ruby ring he'd slipped onto her finger. "You're too generous, my love. It's one of your many faults."

He snorts under his breath and she lifts her head to grin at him, relishing the adoring gaze he cannot help but direct her way. He's been watching her open gifts for the better part of an hour, lingering just inside the room and gazing at her with glittering eyes, as if watching her open his gifts is more than enough of a present for him. "You can hardly blame me," he says softly, dark eyes boring into hers. "For wanting to spoil my wife."

Alex glances around the room again with an indulgent sigh. "You've certainly done that. Now come here." She smiles, pushing aside her gowns and jewelry to make a space next to her on the bed. "I want to thank you properly."

He nods to the last unopened package on her lap. "Open that first."

Pouting a little, she turns her attention from her husband to the slender package in her lap, untying the ribbon slowly and pulling away the wrapping. Lifting the lid of the box, she peers inside and finds a thin, silver sheath inlaid with emeralds. She glances up curiously but Matt only smirks and she sighs, dropping her eyes once more. Picking up the sheath, she strokes a finger over the gemstones before pulling out the dagger tucked away inside.

It's absolutely beautiful, as shining silver as the sheath it came in, though more simple and practical than the sheath had been. One tentative press of her fingertip to the tip draws a bead of blood and she knows it isn't only a gorgeous trinket but a deadly weapon. "Darling, are you sure you didn't mean to give this to someone else? What am I to do with a dagger?" Confused, she glances up and finds Matt striding across the room with a scowl.

He sighs, settling onto the bed next to her and taking her hand in his. He inspects her fingertip with a scowl, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbing at the bead of a blood gently. "First of all, you're meant to hurt others with it, pet, not yourself."

"It was an accident," she mumbles, blushing.

He raises his brows at her and dips his head, brushing his lips softly over the cut. "Better?"

She hums her assent, stealing his handkerchief to keep pressed against her finger, and leans up to peck his jaw. "Why are you giving me a dagger?"

Still holding her hand, he strokes a thumb across the inside of her wrist and narrows his eyes at the floor. "Because I can't always be with you and I can think of no better way for you to protect yourself."

"Darling, I hardly think I'll need to use this -"

"And I hope you're right." He lifts his head, dark eyes intent on her face. "But I want you to know how to use it just in case. You know how dangerous my life can be, Alex. You know there are people who would wish you harm just to get to me." She frowns, more out of concern for him than herself, and his eyes lighten like he knows. Lifting a hand to her face, he brushes a curl from her cheek. "I will protect you in every way I know how."

"Does this mean I can go with you on business in town?" She grins, admiring the hilt of her

dagger and imagining the possibilities. "I could replace Benson as your protector."

"No." His lips twist in a wry smile as she pouts. "Though I'm sure my clients would find you very formidable."

"I'm much scarier than he is," she insists. "And I have the added benefit of loving your difficult hide much more than he does."

"You're not replacing Benson," he says, and she thinks if Matt were the type of man to roll his eyes, he'd be doing it right now. She shrugs and strokes her fingertips over the dagger again, careful to avoid the pointy end. "But you are to carry this with you whenever you're out of the house, do you understand? When you go riding, you tuck it into your boot. When you garden or tend to the horses in the stables, this remains at your side." He taps it pointedly for emphasis. "If not for you, then for me. I'll rest easier knowing you're armed."

Curling a hand around the hilt of her new dagger, Alex glances up at him with a smile. "Of course, darling, if it'll make you feel better. And it's beautiful." She leans in and kisses the corner of his lips, grinning when he turns his head and captures her mouth properly. "Thank you."

He nods once, looking embarrassed. As much as he loves to give her gifts, he never quite knows how to accept her gratitude – at least not her verbal gratitude, anyway.

She lifts the blade and eyes it thoughtfully. "Who's going to teach me how to use it? Benson?"

"Do you really think I would trust anyone with this task but myself?" He arches a thin brow at her, smirking. "You've already proven you're more than apt at injuring yourself."

Alex huffs at him.

His smirk widens and he rises from the bed, pulling her along with him. "First lesson-"

"What? Now?"

"Do you have a more appropriate time in mind, pet?" He watches her blankly but even he can't conceal the laughter in his eyes. She glares, moving to stand in front of him, dagger in hand. "I

thought not. Now, turn around -" He directs her to turn and face the opposite wall and her annoyance is forgotten almost instantly as his strong, sinewy arms slip around her waist and draw her back against his chest. He leans in, mouth brushing her ear, and his hands slide along her forearms. Long fingers slip gently over hers and he holds the dagger with her, silently directing where her hand should go.

"Like this," he murmurs, and she shudders, struggling to pay attention. "Now, first lesson – the tip points away from you."

Alex stifles a bout of laughter and elbows him, relishing his grunt of discomfort. "Very funny, darling." He huffs out a quiet laugh against her ear, warm breath tickling her skin, and she struggles to concentrate on the dagger in front of her rather than turning around and kissing that smug look from his face. She concentrates so intently that her eyes alight upon a faint, small engraving along the blade, just at the tip of the dagger. She frowns, turning the blade around to inspect it more closely.

Matt sighs through his nose. "What did I just tell you, pet?"

"Darling, what's this? There's an inscription…" She squints at it, feeling Matt breathe in quietly behind her. "Mihi ad defendendum."

Arms wrapped around her waist, Matt strokes a finger along the words, his chin on her shoulder. "I had it specially engraved," he admits, and she wonders if he ever would have told her if she hadn't spotted it on her own.

Entranced, she watches his long, elegant finger trace the words and asks quietly, "What does it mean?"

She hears Matt swallow, feels his nose nudge against the curls at her neck as he mumbles, "Mine to protect."

Breath catching in her throat, Alex whirls to face her husband with tears in her eyes. Catching him off guard, she pulls the dagger from his grasp and drops it to the floor beside them, pushing him forcefully onto the mattress behind them. He falls amongst all the gifts he'd given her – little trinket boxes of jewelry, books, heaps of gowns. He scrambles to sit up as she climbs onto the bed and joins him, crawling over his lean, lanky form to straddle his waist.

"Thank you," she whispers, kissing along his throat reverently as he squirms beneath her, big

hands traversing the expanse of her back.

"Alex, love -" He sighs against her skin, gripping her tightly but unable to say anything else. Undeterred, Alex lifts her head and finds his mouth with her own, kissing him deeply.

She wants to thank him not just for the gifts, for the dagger and what it means, but everything. For always making her feel safe and protected and loved, for making her happier than she ever thought she would be married to a man like him. Her husband may be very bad at accepting her words of thanks, but she has much better ways of showing him her gratitude.

Curling her fingers in his hair, she tilts his face up to hers and smiles into dark, glittering eyes. "Happy Anniversary, darling."

Chapter End Notes

I should mention that these aren't necessarily being posted in order. Alex has mentioned in previous chapters that Matt had given her a knife and this was basically the origin of that. Just for future reference:)

come back with our hearts on your sleeve

Chapter Summary

Her flowers have died in her absence and he feels himself withering right along with them.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Hades to Persephone by Lee Ann Schaffer.

Darling,

Just a quick note to say I've arrived safely at Nicola's. I'll write again soon.

Alex

My darling,

I've only been separated from you a mere seven days but I miss you terribly already. Didn't we swear we would never be parted again? I can promise you, it will not be six months this time – I couldn't bear to be away from you like that again. I hope this letter finds you well. I hope you're getting along just fine without me – outwardly, of course. On the inside, I expect you to be positively aching with my absence.

Nicola is doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances. She talks very little of her dearly departed husband and more of my dearly beloved instead. Though I suspect she is merely trying to distract herself from her loss, I grow increasingly impatient with her as the days go on.

I've tried but I don't believe I will ever be able to make her understand how I love you, how incapable I am of ever thinking of leaving your side – she thinks you just as cruel as I once did, but her eyes have not been opened to the truth as mine have been. She thinks I have been

brainwashed into loving you, that what I feel isn't real but a fantasy you've made me believe. I wish I could make her see that no one makes me as happy as you.

I must dash – Nicola is taking a walk into town and has offered to deliver my letter to the postman. Write soon and tell me news of home.

All my love,

Alex

My love,

I was so glad to receive your last letter and to know that you're well but you failed to mention anything I wrote – I was certain you would have something to say about Nicola and her dislike of you. You're usually so vocal when it comes to anyone's disapproval. I was very much looking forward to your tirade.

All is well here. I took a walk through the countryside with Nicola's boys yesterday, hoping the fresh air might do them a world of good. We ran and climbed trees and got our clothes dirty – it was the first time I've seen them smile since I arrived. Their father's death has not been easy on them, the poor things. But I do so love spending time with them. Unfortunately, we got caught in an awful downpour and I came back drenched to the bone and haven't stopped shivering since. The boys are fine – far too young and healthy to be bedridden by such a thing – but I'm afraid I haven't been so fortunate.

Don't worry about me, darling. I'm sure I'll be perfectly well in no time at all.

I continue to miss you endlessly but I hope to be home and in your arms again soon.

All my love,

Alex

Darling,

I'm afraid this letter will be brief. I'm too tired and weak to hold the quill, so Nicola writing it for me as I dictate from my bed. She has enough to do and I don't want to trouble her by making her pen a long missive.

I'm sorry to say that I'm very ill, darling, and I suspect my jaunt in the rain is the culprit. I know you're probably scowling at this letter and cursing my carelessness but know that I am doing much the same because I know this means more time away from you until I am well enough to travel.

Don't bother making the journey. You must stay and look after the manor and the children. I am in capable hands here. Just write to me often and make me feel as if I am already home.

Love,

Alex

Darling,

Are you quite all right? I'm worried about you. You didn't even mention my illness in your last letter, nor express any concern or wishes for my speedy recovery. You're usually so overprotective – I expected a long diatribe scolding me for being silly enough not to predict a rainstorm, immediately followed by your insistence on coming here at once. Are you truly so angry with me for being ill? I hardly did it on purpose, darling. I can only assume that you sent your last letter before mine arrived and that your next one shall be full of your righteous distress.

I'm still very under the weather, I'm afraid. For the past few days I've been near insensible with fever and quite miserable. I miss you wildly. Nicola is doing a wonderful job looking after me, of course, so please don't worry your darling head over me. Give the children my love.

Write soon.

Alex

Darling,

You have not written since your last letter nearly two weeks ago and I don't understand why. I know you must be concerned for my health but please don't be. I'm feeling much better, I promise.

Please write and let me know you're well. I'm sure you must be busy with your work and I don't wish to trouble you. Just a note would suffice.

How are the children? Are my flowers faring well? Give my love to Cerberus.

I love you.

Alex

My darling Matt,

I'm afraid I've taken a turn for the worse. I feel quite unwell again. Nicola called for a doctor and he seems competent enough, so I'm sure I'll be right as rain in no time at all. Nicola pens my letters for me when I cannot, and always sends them immediately after. She's a wonderful nurse as well, but it isn't quite the same as home. I wish for your tender hands and Hobbs' cooking and Parker always lurking outside the door to make sure I want for nothing.

I know you're busy, as I have yet to hear from you again, but I hope you are better than I.

I miss you, my love. I want you with me.

Alex

Matt,

You haven't come. Why haven't you come to see me? I thought surely you would be here by now, banging down the door and demanding to see me – demanding to take me home.

Don't you know that I ask for you every day? I'm too weak to come to you, darling. You must make the journey yourself. I need you.

I know you hate to encounter my family but please, just this once, put aside your differences and visit your ailing wife.

Alex

The doctor and Nicola insist I'm still far too weak to travel but I cannot stand waiting a moment longer. I'm worried something awful has happened to you in my absence. I'm coming home, darling, and you'd better be there, buried under a pile of paperwork and entirely ignorant of my condition.

Please be there.

Alex

Her flowers have died in her absence and he feels himself withering right along with them. She is sunlight and rain and everything he needs to survive. Without her, he's afraid he will shrivel into dust. It has been five months – nearly as long as her last visit home. She'd promised she wouldn't ever be away so long again but she'd lied. She'd kissed him goodbye and whispered she would return as soon as possible and she'd looked so genuine, as in love as he was. He wonders if she'd known then that she would not come back. She promised to write every day but that too, had been a lie. Other than a quick note to say she'd arrived, he has not heard from her once.

At first, he'd kept writing to her anyway, enquiring after her health and telling her of things that happened around the manor – funny things Parker did and said, how often Iris played pranks on poor Benson, Cerberus' refusal to ride anywhere without Alex. He was faithful to write nearly every day, assuming she was busy taking care of her bereaved sister and would write back when she found the time, but as the days went by without a word from her, Matt could only assume that she was angry with him or something had happened to her.

Unable to make the journey and leave everything behind on a hunch, he'd sent a reliable teenage boy just recently in his employ to check on her – he might be able to sleep at night if he knew she was just busy or angry. He'd waited for the boy to return with word that his wife was ill or hurt or had been followed by someone with a grudge against him and no one had seen her for days – all manner of horrible scenarios. Nothing, however, prepared him for the truth.

The boy had returned with a note written in unfamiliar hand.

Assuming your spy returns to you, my sister would like you to know that she is to live with me and sever all ties with the man who took her away from her family and ruined her life. Do not attempt further contact.

The sting of heartache hit him first. He barely ate and refused to conduct business, holed away in his study and drinking. It had finally happened – a trip home had convinced her she could do so much better, that he was a monster who had somehow ensnared her. He'd worried it would happen the first time she left to care for her mother but she'd come back and thrown herself into his arms. He'd stopped fretting. He thought she'd loved him just as fiercely as he loved her. In spite of all the others who had left, he thought he'd found the one person who never would.

As the effects of his liquor fade, the anger and betrayal take hold and refuse to let go. He throws himself back into his work, bitter and more brutal than ever. People actually scurry to the other side of the street when he walks in town, terror in their eyes, and he stops taking Benson with him, reluctant to let his servant and old friend see just how low a woman has brought him. He thinks about going to her and taking her away with him just as he had the first time, throwing their

contract back in her face and forcing her to come home. He thinks about throwing her parents out on the street in exchange for Alex breaking their deal. He hasn't the heart to do either.

He'd made a mistake in taking a wife, pathetically desperate to soothe the ache of loneliness and infatuated with a temptress and her wild curls but he knows better now. Unfortunately, knowing that she no longer loved him does not make it any easier to stop loving her. He grips his anger tightly, wrapping it around him like a cloak to ward off all others, but he still craves her touch, her laughter, her eyes meeting his across the dining room table. There are reminders of her everywhere – her things still in their chambers, her books in his study, her favorite sweets in a jar in the kitchen.

Even the dying flowers outside are a reminder of her.

Standing at the window in his study, Matt peers through the curtains at the fog rolling in, swallowing up the once bright blossoms in the mist. It had been in this very room that he'd given her full reign over the grounds. She'd been warm and soft on his lap and if he closes his eyes, he can almost feel the weight of her arms around his neck and see the brilliant smile on her lovely face. He'd done what he could to make her happy, hadn't he?

Shoulders slumped, he stares through the windowpane with a scowl. He has found in his life that whatever he offers – everything, where Alex was concerned – it is never quite enough.

A soft knock on the door of his study jars him from his thoughts but he doesn't bother turning to face the door. "Who is it?"

After a pause, he hears, "It's Parker, Master Smith."

Sighing, Matt presses his forehead against the cool glass windowpane. "What do you want?"

"Y-you have a visitor, Sir."

He frowns savagely and snaps, "Who is it then?"

The door creaks open and he turns to scold Parker for opening the door without asking but the sight that greets him renders him speechless. "Your wife," she says, standing there like a vision. She grips the doorframe tightly, looking oddly pale and drawn, but he glances away quickly, mouth going dry. His knees feel weak and he clenches his jaw to keep from showing her just what

the sight of her does to him.

"Finally here to collect your things?" He asks.

"Collect my – no, of course not. I'm here to stay, darling. Finally home – since you wouldn't come to -"

"Get out."

After a brief pause, she chuckles weakly. "What?"

"You heard me," he says through gritted teeth, and begins to stride toward her with his eyes on the floor. He cannot look at her. Parker scrambles out of his way but Alex doesn't have the sense to do the same, standing and staring at him until he grabs her wrist in his biting grip. She cries out in alarm but he pays her no mind, yanking her down the corridor. "Get out."

"Darling, you're hurting me -" Alex stumbles but he doesn't pause, dragging her along into the foyer. He can't stop. He can't hesitate. He can't even look at her because the moment he does, he'll fall at her feet. He won't give her the satisfaction of knowing she is still his weakness, after everything. "Please, I don't understand. What have I done?"

"What haven't you done?" He snarls, yanking open the front door and hurling her out onto the stone steps. Alex trips on the hem of her gown and stumbles, scraping her palm as she tries to catch herself before she tumbles down the stone steps. "You're nothing but a contemptuous little demon and you will not set foot on my property again."

"Matt, please. Why are you doing this?" She looks up at him uncomprehendingly, tears shining in her eyes, and he swallows hard, glancing away. "Is it because I was gone so long? I couldn't help it, darling -"

"Don't call me that," he snaps, and slips around her crumpled form to step down the stairs. "You have no right. Not anymore."

Striding toward the stables with his fists clenched at his sides and his jaw working to stubbornly keep the sting from his eyes, Matt decides he'll send her away with Cerberus. He can't bear looking at the animal anymore anyway – he just needs her and every reminder of her out of his

sight at once. He hears Alex stumbling after him, calling for him in a voice filled with tears, but he doesn't turn around. He's too weak to resist her when she cries.

"Matthew!" She finally shouts, tears strangling her voice nearly beyond recognition. "I am not leaving you!"

Whirling on her, he finds her standing nearly twenty paces away and swaying on her feet, her hair wild and her thin, white dress bloodied from swiping her bleeding palm over the skirt of it. The cold wind from the moors whirls around her, sending her hair tumbling into her eyes and her skirts whipping around her legs. She looks wild and unhinged and god, so utterly beautiful. He steels himself, heart in his throat. "I don't need you," he says lowly. "I don't need anyone. You're free to go."

She stares at him. "But I don't want to go! I won't!" She takes an unsteady step forward and he backs away. "You're my husband, Matt. I love you."

Why must she say these things with such conviction when they both know it's a lie? Why must she torment him so?

"You are no longer my wife," he snaps. "I release you from our contract."

Even from a distance, he hears her sharp, indrawn breath and sees fresh tears fill her eyes. "What?" She sounds wounded and incredulous, her whole body trembling. "Our contract? Is that what I was to you?"

"It is clearly what I was to you," he says stiffly. "Considering you fled the moment you saw your chance."

"What are you talking about?" She stares at him as if he's gone mad. "I went to see my sister – you knew that's where I was going!"

"And you decided to stay," he snarls. "Yes, she was kind enough to inform me since you hadn't the nerve to do so yourself."

Pale and obviously unsteady on her feet, Alex blinks at him. "What?"

He tears his eyes away from her, concern for her wellbeing clawing at his chest. "You could have at least written to me."

"I wrote to you every day! It was you who stopped writing to me!"

"Because you never did!" He roars, and feels no satisfaction when she jumps in fright. "I know perfectly well when my attentions are not wanted."

"Wanted? I asked for you every day, every letter, begging -" Her voice cracks but she forges on, swallowing tears. "Begging you to come to me. And you never did. I thought something had happened to you -"

"Something did happen to me," he says hollowly. "I realized that no one ever stays."

Turning his back on her, he starts again in the direction of the stables. Alex calls for him one last time but he doesn't turn until he hears the thud of something heavy hitting the ground. One glance over his shoulder reveals Alex lying in a crumpled heap on the ground and his heart leaps into his throat and lodges there permanently.

"Alex?" She doesn't move, doesn't even shiver as the fog and chilly air settles over them both in the stillness. With a choked cry, Matt staggers to her side and drops to his knees, taking her face in his hands. The moment he does, he realizes how hot to the touch her skin is. She's burning up with a fever. "Alex? Pet, open your eyes. Look at me."

She whimpers, flinching, but remains unconscious.

Pausing only long enough to shed his coat and wrap it tightly around her shoulders, Matt gathers her into his arms and lifts her up. Her head lolls against his shoulder but he keeps her cradled to his chest, murmuring soothing nonsense as he starts the journey back toward the manor.

She'd been so pale and so unsteady, as if she could barely find the strength to walk upright. He'd noticed right away but he'd been so angry he hadn't really thought to ask why. How could he have been so thoughtless? What if he'd actually forced her onto a horse? How far would she have made it before she fell off? The thought sickens him and he grips her tighter, burying his face in her sweat-damp hair.

As he reaches the manor, Benson steps out of the house with Parker at his heels, jumping about and gesticulating wildly, no doubt describing Matt's horrid display. The moment they see him approaching with Alex in his arms, they stop conversing and stare, wide eyed.

"Mistress?"

Parker looks like he might cry but Matt doesn't have time to console the child. "She's fine, boy. Run ahead and prepare the bed for her." With one last concerned glance at Alex, Parker turns on his heel and marches quickly back into the house. The moment he's gone, Matt turns to Benson.

"Take one of the horses, go into town and fetch a doctor. Bring him back with you immediately – I don't care what he says. Kidnap him if you have to. Now."

"Yes, Sir." The one thing Matt admires most about Benson is that he never questions him. He only nods and carries out his orders. Matt doesn't stay to watch him run toward the stables, shifting Alex in his arms before turning and walking into the house and up the stairs.

Somewhere between sitting by Alex's bedside and holding her hand, and waiting for the doctor to finish examining her by pacing angrily in the corridor outside their chambers, he finally realizes what he should have guessed all along. He goes over their confrontation again and again in his head and realizes instead of looking guilty when he accused her of leaving him, Alex had looked at him like he'd slapped her. She hadn't gotten angry when he tried to force her from the house – she'd cried.

I wrote to you every day.

Numbly, Matt slips his hand into his trouser pocket and pulls out the note tucked away inside, Nicola's elegant, slanted script crinkled and smeared now from his frequent re-readings. He'd needed a daily reminder for a while as to just why he couldn't mount one of his horses, go to his wife, and take her home with him – she didn't want him anymore.

Except she did.

Crumpling the note in his fist, Matt clenches his jaw and breathes steadily through his nose.

Nicola.

"Lord Smith?"

Matt whirls to find the doctor standing just outside the doorway and eyeing him a little fearfully. Unconcerned with whatever the man might think of him, he snaps impatiently, "Well? How is she?"

"She's very weak, Lord Smith." The doctor glances over his shoulder and into the room where Alex sleeps. "But keep her fever down and with a bit of rest and absolutely no stress under any circumstances -" He pauses here to give him a reproving look that Matt would hit the doctor for if he didn't think he deserved it, "She should recover just fine."

Allowing himself only a moment to scrub a tired hand over his face in stark relief, Matt breathes out a quiet thank you. "Benson will return you to town. I appreciate your cooperation with him."

"I didn't have much choice," the doctor grumbles. The image of Benson towering over this poor, bespectacled doctor and yanking him by the collar onto his horse without even an explanation before galloping away is almost enough to make Matt smile. He pays the doctor handsomely for his trouble.

Alex is still sleeping when he slips into the room and approaches the bed, as drawn to her now as ever. She looks so wan and pale – so utterly fragile – that it makes his despicable actions earlier even more horrific. She's so frail he could have snapped her in two. Reaching out a shaking hand, he brushes his fingertips over her cheek tenderly, aching to touch her. Her skin is soft and warm – too warm – but after months of separation, the contact shoots through his veins like a drug.

She stirs instantly, eyes shut but brow furrowed as she mumbles, "Darling?"

He doesn't deserve that name – possibly not ever again – but he will always answer to it. "I'm here, pet," he says softly. "I'm right here."

She squints her eyes open, struggling against sleep to look at him. "Are you still angry?"

Swallowing thickly, Matt shakes his head. "No, I'm not angry." He strokes her curls from her face and clears his throat hesitantly. "In fact, I love you very much."

She sighs a little, as if some great burden has been lifted from her shoulders, and sinks almost instantly back into dreams. Matt stares at her for a long moment, frozen with guilt. Finally, with new resolve, he stoops to press a fervent kiss to her forehead and whispers, "Rest, pet. I'll be back soon."

"Where are they?"

He doesn't wait for a reply, pushing past her and into the house. He starts searching immediately, rummaging through drawers and dumping the contents out onto the floor, not caring if he trashes the whole place before he finds them. His anger had fueled his journey here and it still burns in his veins now as he upends tables and chairs, causing destruction just for the sake of it as Nicola gapes at him from the doorway.

"What in god's name do you think you're doing?"

Pausing with a valuable looking glass vase in hand, Matt snarls, "My letters – the ones my wife wrote every day she stayed in this little hellhole with you and your unfortunate brats."

"I don't have them, now will you please keep your voice down? My children -"

"Left ten minutes ago to head into town on errands for you," he finishes silkily. "I waited for them to leave. Just you and me now, dear sister-in-law."

Nicola swallows and juts out her chin. "All the same, if you could stop destroying my home -"

"And why should I stop destroying your home? You were clearly trying your damnedest to destroy my marriage. At least your things are replaceable." He curls his hands into fists and reminds himself that the wench standing in front of him is not only a woman but Alex's sister and causing her physical harm would not be wise. He doesn't much care if it would be gentlemanly – he stopped caring about such things long ago – but he holds the faintest hope that one day Alex may speak to him again and he would lose even that if he harmed her sister.

Nicola glances away, biting her lip. "I could never understand what it was about you that made my sister so happy. By all accounts, you are a cruel, volatile tyrant but she defended you against every ill word I said about you."

He purses his lips and glares at the floor, not for the first time overwhelmed with self-loathing. She'd nearly killed herself trying to get back to him and he'd treated her exactly as everyone

always told her he would. And even then, she' refused to leave. What had he ever done to deserve such devotion?

"She was practically on her deathbed when she left -" Matt flinches, closing his eyes. "But she was determined to see you. I had no idea."

He stares at the floor, a hollow ache in his chest. "What?"

"I thought you had her under your thrall – that you had brainwashed her into caring for you. But I can see now – you are as devoted as she is." Nicola gives him a smile full of regret. "It is you under her thrall."

Lifting his head in surprise, Matt meets her eyes for a long moment before giving a short, sharp nod, a lump in his throat. Without another word, Nicola turns and leaves the room. He doesn't follow her, standing in the middle of the carnage that was once her parlour and listening to her rummage about in the other room.

After a moment, she glides back in carrying a large bundle of letters, all tied together with fraying string. "I didn't send them, but I hadn't the heart to throw them all away."

She pushes them all into his arms and he stares down at them, stunned by the quantity of unopened letters. There are so many she must have written every other day for months, even when she was ill, even when he stopped sending his own letters. Nausea and guilt burning in his gut, Matt swallows back a wave of righteous fury directed toward the woman standing in front of him, eyeing him with contrition.

"I truly am sorry," she says softly. "I thought I was doing right by her. I thought I was saving her."

"You made us both miserable," he snaps, but his heart isn't in it. Nicola had been right – Alex is better off without him. He's just too selfish to let her go.

"I know." Nicola blinks away tears and twists the skirt of her dress in her nervous hands. "Will you please just tell Alex that I love her? Tell her that I'm sorry?"

He nods once, still staring at the abundance of letters in his arms, penned by his Alex. I asked you to come to me every day. He blinks hard, lifting his head. "I can't promise -"

"I know." Nicola forces a brave smile. "I understand."

Without another word exchanged between them, Matt turns on his heel and walks out of the house, leaving Nicola to clean up the mess he made just as she has left him to clean up hers.

He doesn't stop for rest until he reaches the manor, driving the horse beneath him as hard as he can, Alex's letters burning a hole through his satchel. The moment he reaches the stables, Benson reports to him that Alex has been awake all day and asking for him, but he can't bring himself to go inside. Not yet. Instead, he takes the bundle of letters and settles onto a bale of hay. He reads each and every one, opening them all with an increasingly shaking hand.

The more he reads, the more distressed he becomes. Alex tries to be brave for a while, telling him she'll be just fine and don't worry, but as the sickness takes hold, she stops hinting and flat out asks him to come to her. He can read the hurt and confusion in every word when he does not appear and rage burns in his gut but there is no one to take it out on but himself. He should have made the journey on his own, not sent someone to check on her. He wouldn't have taken that note as an answer. He would have demanded to see his wife and barged into that house – he would have taken her home.

Folding the last letter and tucking it back into its envelope with great care, Matt rises slowly to his feet and makes the trek to the manor from the stables with a heavy heart. The fog seems thicker than usual today, like trudging through mud instead of mist, every step weighing him down. Eventually, he makes it into the manor and up the stairs but he pauses outside the door to their chambers, hand hovering over the doorknob.

The last thing he wants and what he wants more than anything are one and the same – to see his wife. He wants to take her into his arms and look after her, to kiss her and make up for the time they've lost, but how can he face her now? She must realize Nicola had been right – there is nothing but unhappiness for her here. He can never be the man she deserves.

He is too accustomed to being alone. Tenderness does not come easily to him and after years of being abandoned by those he loves most, he will always feel suspicious and unworthy of a love like hers. He is cruel and selfish where Alex is kind and selfless. He needs her as the night cannot exist without the day but he cannot help fearing that a time will come when his darkness will extinguish her light. He could never forgive himself then.

"Darling?"

He squeezes his eyes shut at the name and twists the doorknob, peeking warily into their chambers. Sitting up in bed in a fresh nightgown, the blankets piled around her, Alex stares at him with forgiveness already in her eyes. He feels like the lowest creature on the face of the planet, lower even than the serpent himself, but she smiles at the sight of him and says, "I heard your footsteps on the stairs but you never came in. I thought you might be lurking out there."

He frowns. "I don't lurk."

She refrains from arguing, her smile soft and just a little tired around the edges. Her cheeks have regained their usual color and her curls, while not shining and bouncing as he's used to, are not quite so lank and lifeless as when she arrived.

The knot in his chest loosens just a little at the sight of her recovering already and he clears his throat, ducking his head. "I… found your letters."

Smile slipping, Alex glances away, lips tightening into a thin line, and it takes him a moment to realize she's staring at the note on her bedside table – the one Nicola had written him. He'd forgotten to take it with him. "I'm never speaking to her again."

It pains him to say it but he tries. "She wanted what was best for you -"

"She had no right," Alex snaps, and as he watches her eyes flash and her cheeks flush with indignation, he belatedly remembers what the doctor had said about stress.

"Pet, calm down -"

She ignores him as if he hadn't said anything, huddled on their bed and still looking far too fragile for his liking, tears shining in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, darling. No wonder you were so angry. Lord, what must you have thought -"

Stepping further into the room, Matt slams the door shut behind him with a bang, marching to the edge of the bed in agitation. "Why are you apologizing to me, Alex? I threw you out of the house

– I hurt you! Why aren't you furious? You should be calling for Benson or one of the boys and demanding I be escorted from the premises!"

"As if you would leave me," she says, and has the gall to actually smirk at him.

"No," he admits hoarsely, deflating at once. "No sooner than you would leave me, I imagine."

"But you thought I did," she points out softly, and he could swear her voice trembles. "And so easily, my love. I can't help but feel responsible. You should know without question that I love you above all others and if I haven't done that then what sort of wife must I be?"

"Stop," he growls, startling her into silence and feeling contrite instantly. He sighs, running a weary hand through his hair. "It wasn't you, pet." Saying what he feels does not come easily, even as determined as he is to make her see, and he spends a long moment working his jaw in silence before he manages, "I am too used to being left."

Wiping at her cheeks, Alex offers him a wobbly smile. "Well, never again. We go everywhere together or we don't go. The world is far too desperate to separate us."

He nods once, unable to find the words to agree around the lump in his throat. He does not deserve her forgiveness but by god, he will take it with both hands and do everything in his power to make sure he never needs it again.

"Come here, don't make me get out of bed. Haven't I traveled far enough for you, silly man?" Alex blinks away tears and holds out her arms as he crosses the remaining distance between them and the moment he's close enough, she takes him by the collar of his coat and hauls him onto the bed with her. He climbs up beside her and she fits herself into his arms perfectly, as if she had never left – hands slipping beneath his coat and arms wrapping around his waist. She presses her face into the crook of his neck and inhales shakily. "Just tell me you don't hate me. I couldn't bear it -"

He stops the rest of her words with his mouth, turning his head and crashing his lips against hers with a ferocity that startles even him. Hands framing her face – skin soft and warm and flushed beneath his fingers – he steals her breath for his own greedily, tongue slipping into her eagerly opened mouth to taste her. It has been months but oh, she tastes just as he remembers. Sweet fruit with just a hint of black tea underneath; pure and lovely but tainted with darkness. The salt of her tears lingers on his tongue and he slips his hands into her mass of curls with a groan, clinging just as desperately to her as she to him.

He allows her breath again with reluctance, planting rough, wet kisses along her jaw and down her neck unceasingly, feeling Alex thread her fingers through his hair and gasp her approval. "My

angel," he whispers against her collarbone.

Alex whimpers, pressing herself against his chest and nearly climbing into his lap. He steadies her with gentle hands, letting her curl up against him but stopping her firmly when she reaches for the buttons of his coat. "Darling," she pleads. "Please, I want you to touch me -"

"You're not well, pet," he groans, wanting nothing more than to strip her bare and reacquaint himself with every inch of her. "I promise I'll be here when you've recovered." Alex starts to protest again but he kisses her silent, growling when she nips at his bottom lip, the eager little minx. "You need rest."

"I need you," she says, kissing a sinful path down his neck and tugging his cravat out of the way.

"And you shall have me." He captures her wrist and brings her palm up to his eye level, studying the scrape there with a lump of remorse in his throat.

Alex softens, resting pliant and docile against him now, tenderness in her smile. "Kiss it better?" Without hesitation, he bends his head and brushes his lips reverently over the scrape with her eyes burning into him – judge and jury to condemn or absolve him. She chooses the latter, just as she always will, cupping his face in her injured hand and smoothing away his troubled frown with a murmured, "My darling."

"My undoing," he breathes, tilting his cheek into her touch.

She huffs out a quiet laugh, tender fingers tracing the angles of his face. "You talk as if I have some great power over you."

"You do," he rumbles, nosing at her palm. "My dark goddess."

She shushes him, cheeks pink.

He nips at her jaw. "One day, you will annihilate me and I shall let you with a smile."

"That would be a sight." She threads her fingers through his hair and tilts his face up to hers, grinning. "You? Smiling?"

"Kindly shut up, pet."

"Ah, there's my favorite scowl." She giggles and damn it all, his heart skips a beat at the sound. "My vengeful god just isn't the same without it."

He huffs and grumbles but he gathers her petite frame into his arms and buries his face in her hair, making absolutely certain that she will not see him smile.

strong hades and awful persephone

Chapter Summary

It doesn't take him long after the consummation of their marriage for Matt to figure out just what his lovely bride likes.

It doesn't take him long after the consummation of their marriage for Matt to figure out just what his lovely bride likes. She likes his hands on her – tender or rough does not matter so long as he's touching her. She likes to be spoken to, likes the low growl of his voice against her ear. She likes to wrap her hand around his length and smile when he falls apart. She likes to pet his hair when his head is between her slick thighs. And without fail, every time he undresses her – and he so loves to be the one to peel layer after layer from her body – her breathing will hitch when his fingers skim the ties of her corset. At first, he assumes it's only anticipation for the moment he will untie the last of the laces and strip the restricting garment from her, freeing his hands to roam every bare, perfect inch of her.

It takes him longer than it should to understand his Alex likes the restricting garment. The night he leaves the corset on, far too amorous to bother undressing her completely, Alex pinned beneath him and gasping for breath, she comes harder and more quickly than he ever knew a woman was capable of.

The next night, when they retire to their chambers and find themselves once more in a tangle of limbs and hard, bruising kisses, Matt focuses all of his efforts on shedding every last layer of finery from her until she is dressed in nothing but her corset and shift. Wide eyed and lips swollen, Alex claws at his waistcoat impatiently but he tuts, nipping at her bottom lip and settling his hands on her hips. He watches closely for the darkening of her eyes when he traces his fingers over the fastenings of her corset and the moment he sees it, he whirls her around and pins her face first to the mattress. She yelps in surprise, bent at the waist as he presses his groin against the lovely curve of her arse.

"Darling?" She asks, sounding tentative but pleased. "What are you -"

"You should have told me," he says softly, toying with the ribbon lacing her corset together. Alex flushes and squirms beneath him. He smirks, dipping his head to press his lips to her shoulder.

"Told you what?" She turns her head to look at him, a frown on her face but her eyes glittering with want.

"That you like this." He murmurs against the back of her neck, and tugs roughly on the laces of her corset. She gasps in shock and arousal, arching beneath him. "You like not being able to breathe." He pauses, stroking his fingertips up and down her spine through the layered material, and Alex shudders. "But that isn't quite right, is it? You like the thought of me controlling how little or how much you're allowed to breathe, isn't that right, pet?"

Her eyes flutter and he wonders why she never asked him for this – surely she knows by now that he can deny her nothing. "I – yes."

"Let's see just how much, hmm?" He fumbles for her thin shift, slipping it up her legs and around her hips. Alex shifts her legs apart for him, nuzzling her cheek against the mattress like a contented feline, and he praises, "Good girl." She sighs blissfully and he slips his hand between her thighs, heat instantly enveloping him as he strokes his fingers through her wet folds. "Oh yes," he rumbles, and she whimpers. "You like that very much, indeed."

Alex attempts to shift her hips, aching for more friction. "Please, darling."

He withdraws his hand, fumbling for the laces on his trousers. Pushing them down his hips, he demands gruffly, "Promise me you'll tell me if you want me to stop."

She nods hurriedly, arching her hips off the bed as he positions himself at her slick entrance. "I promise. Please, please -"

Matt drapes himself over her back and kisses the side of her neck, relishing the way she trembles beneath him. "You never have to beg me for anything, love."

She bites her lip the way she always does when he calls her that, and with one shift of his hips, he's pushing into the tight heat of her body and yanking simultaneously at the laces of her corset. Alex moans breathlessly as the garment tightens around her ribcage the same moment he fills her, her fingers digging into the sheets.

He nips at her shoulder, resting on his elbows and pressing his body weight into her, further robbing her of breath. She sighs her approval, moving back against him as he rolls his hips, pressing deeper inside her. Being inside his wife is like nothing else on earth. She is warm and wet and he struggles every time she envelopes him not to lose control and pound into her with abandon. It's especially critical now – she can scarcely breathe as it is.

Alex is usually such a vocal creature but tonight her starved lungs can't produce more than raspy,

needy whimpers and sighs. She pushes back against him eagerly, mouth open as she drags in air, her green eyes glittering and unfocused. Concerned, Matt brushes his lips over her ear. "Pet?"

"Fine," she pants, and squeezes her muscles around him just to prove it. He swears like a sailor, pressing his face hard against her shoulder blade. "More, oh lord, please -"

He growls, fumbling between them for the ties on her corset. The moment he wraps the length of the ribbon around his fingers and pulls, Alex tightens around him, muscles fluttering, and her cries reach a crescendo, high and pleading. He gazes down at her beneath him, her hips grinding into the mattress, and grits his teeth, struggling not to grip her hips and slam into her until Alex isn't the only one fighting for air.

"That's it, pet," he murmurs, rolling his hips against her and delighting in her strangled moan. "Breathe."

"Can't," she whimpers, gasping.

He smirks, ghosting his lips softly over the back of her neck. "Who says when you're allowed to breathe, my wife?"

"Y-you."

"Good girl." He punctuates the words with two deep thrusts and she releases a high, breathy cry. "And right now I don't want you to breathe. Do you know what I want, pet?" She nods. He fumbles between them once more for her corset, sure that one last tug will either cause her to faint or send her over the edge. "Then do it."

His wife can be the most obstinate creature on the planet, stubborn to a fault and as willful as any rebellious mare he's ever encountered, but in this, she obeys him without protest. With one last keening cry, she shudders and shakes beneath him, trembling apart in a breathless, beautiful display right before his eyes. The sight of her undone and panting, mouth open to drag in what air she can, is enough to make him lose his tenuous grip on his control and he buries his face in her sweat damp curls, thrusting with abandon.

Alex reaches behind her for his hand and he laces their fingers together, hips stuttering. She murmurs to him in a high, panting voice – that's it, I'm here, my love – and Matt sinks his teeth into the curve of her neck to keep from crying out, spilling inside her with one last grunt as his eyes slide shut, white light eclipsing all else. She is his light in this bleak, godless corner of the

earth, and the only time he ever feels the sun on his face is when Alex is in his arms.

When he can see again, he pulls out and collapses bonelessly beside her on the mattress, still breathing hard as he reaches for her, hands deftly loosening her corset and letting air fill her lungs once more. Alex draws in deep, greedy breaths, eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed bright red. His heart leaps at the sight of her. "All right, pet?"

She answers him by stripping off her sweat-damp shift and curling her naked body into his side. She kisses his neck, one hand stroking his chest absently. Matt turns his head and presses his lips to her forehead, petting her wild hair tenderly. "Happy?"

"Mmm." She hums, eyes fluttering open, and beams up at him. "Thank you, darling."

He kisses her hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She blushes, turning her face into his neck. "I thought you would refuse to -"

"What? Grant your every wish?" He harrumphs grumpily, entirely aware she knows she always manages to get exactly what she wants from him.

She pulls back and watches him skeptically. "Not when it meant potentially harming me."

"Never." He frowns at her. "If you believe I was not watching you every moment, prepared to rip the bloody thing off you at the slightest sign of true discomfort, you are very much mistaken, pet."

Alex grins, sliding a leg between his and leaning up to kiss his chin.

He eyes her in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just – I never feel as safe as I do when I'm with you."

He blinks at her, struggling not to give in to the unfortunate urge to duck his head like a smitten schoolboy – a most regrettable side effect of being utterly mad for the woman curled into his side.

"You are certainly the first."

"That's because you've never loved anyone like you do me," she explains simply, sounding awfully confident.

He arches a brow at her, lips twitching. "Is that so?"

She nods solemnly. "But it's entirely mutual, of course."

He huffs. "I should hope so."

"Don't pout, darling. You know I'm hopeless for you – ill-mannered scowl and all." She strokes the back of her knuckles against his cheek, grinning mischievously. "You take my breath away. Sometimes quite literally."

Matt sighs at the terrible pun, rolls over on top of his giggling wife, and promptly kisses her quiet.

this is the season of abduction

Chapter Summary

The sound of hoof beats in the distance makes her heart leap into her throat and she hurriedly feeds Cerberus the last sugar cube, dusting off her hands and whirling to find Matt cantering up to the stable unusually slowly for him. For a moment, she fears he's injured again but a closer look reveals that he's cradling a small, child-shaped bundle to his chest, wrapped in his coat.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone at the Farmer's Market by J.P. Dancing Bear.

She spends most of her morning on edge, her heart skipping a beat at every noise, her body thrumming with adrenaline for no reason at all. She tells herself she's only worried about Matt, who had refused to take Benson with him on a trip into town this morning, insisting their stable hand and occasional bodyguard stay with Alex at the manor. But her husband knows how to take care of himself. He somehow managed to stay alive long before he married her – he'll be fine.

It doesn't stop the anxious churning in her gut – like something important, something frightening, is lurking just around the bend – and she distracts herself well into the afternoon by working in the gardens and the stables. She brushes out Cerberus' mane and sneaks him apples and cubes of sugar, smiling innocently when Benson walks by and eyes her with suspicion. He isn't fooled for a moment but he lets her believe she's getting away with spoiling the horse right under his nose.

The sound of hoof beats in the distance makes her heart leap into her throat and she hurriedly feeds Cerberus the last sugar cube, dusting off her hands and whirling to find Matt cantering up to the stable unusually slowly for him. For a moment, she fears he's injured again but a closer look reveals that he's cradling a small, child-shaped bundle to his chest, wrapped in his coat.

She sighs in equal parts relief and exasperation, settling her hands on her hips and calling over her shoulder to Benson, "It looks like we've got another one."

Benson glances up from inspecting the foot of one of the other horses, grinning. "Master Smith must be keen to quit terrorizing men and start his own orphanage."

She huffs. "Yes, with me as headmistress."

Benson's grin only widens and he ducks his head, going back to work, but Alex knows he'll be listening and watching closely – he always does. With a fond smile, she watches her husband's horse trot into the stables, already mentally reviewing household space and chores. Matt has a rather endearing habit of bringing home abandoned, orphaned children like a little boy might bring home a stray animal, claiming it followed him home. Just last week, he came back from a trip with five children in tow and she'd scrambled to find room for them and jobs for them to do. It's becoming more and more difficult to find the space but she rather loves his weakness for children. He would have made a wonderful father, were she capable of giving the gift of life.

Pressing a hand to her aching chest, Alex attempts a smile as he slows to a stop in front of her. "Where did you find this one?"

Matt looks down at her sheepishly. "She was an unfortunately clumsy thief in the market. Caught her and scooped her up before the merchant noticed." He shifts the bundle in his arms and holds it out to her. "Take her."

Lifting her arms, Alex takes the child from him carefully so her husband can climb from his horse. Cradling the bundle to her chest and shocked by how light it is, Alex glances down as the coat slips, revealing a small, delicately featured, and very striking child who can't possibly be more than three years old. Inhaling sharply, Alex glances up as Matt drops from the saddle, dusting himself off with a frown. "Darling, we can hardly put a toddler to work."

"Yes, I know, pet." He tugs at his shirt cuffs and looks at the child nestled in her arms. "But I could hardly leave her either."

"Of course you couldn't." She smiles and leans up to press a warm kiss to his cheek, his skin beneath her lips chilled from his brisk ride. "My big-hearted devil."

He glances away with a scowl, clearly unhappy to be labeled as anything remotely close to kind, but his gaze darts to her again within moments, eyes softening as she cuddles the little girl to her chest. "She's probably hungry," he mumbles.

"Well then," Alex smiles kindly down at the little girl eyeing her with suspicion. "It's a good thing Hobbs is making dinner."

Clearly starved, the girl devours the bowl of soup and plate of bread Hobbs sets in front of her,

mouth opening eagerly every time Alex lift a spoonful to her lips. Matt barely says a word all through dinner, watching from across the table silently as Alex tends to the girl, his dark, calculating eyes studying the child closely. Alex can't help but join him, taking in the fragile creature barely tall enough to see the top of the table from her chair. Her cheeks are still rounded with baby fat and a lovely, pink blush colors them the more warm food fills her belly. Her skin, beneath the layer of dirt, looks to be very pale and she has an extraordinary amount of hair for one so young, dark, tangled locks falling down her back. She's an absolutely beautiful child and Alex wonders where her parents are and who could possibly abandon such a darling thing.

She doesn't say much, far too focused on eating and studying the two adults staring at her in fascination but she doesn't seem frightened – not even of Matt. She swings her little legs and positively lights up when Hobbs brings a plate of freshly baked biscuits from the kitchen, setting the whole thing down right in front of her.

"There you are, little miss." Hobbs winks. "Best biscuits in the world, just for you."

The girl glances between Matt and Alex, then back to the biscuits, looking unsure.

Heart aching, Alex takes one chubby little hand in her own and guides it to the plate with an encouraging smile. "Go on then. Have as many as you like."

Still, she hesitates, looking at Matt. "Mine?"

It's the first word she's spoken and Alex can see the shock of being directly addressed register on Matt's face but he recovers, nodding once and clearly making an effort not to look intimidating. Without another word, the girl snatches up a biscuit like they might change their minds, bringing it to her lips and taking a bite as big as her tiny mouth will allow her. She kicks her legs again, humming happily.

Satisfied that the girl can speak, Alex waits until half of the biscuit is gone before prodding gently, "Do you have a name, lovely?" The girl blinks at her, still chewing. Alex swipes away a smudge of chocolate on her chin and tries again. "What do people call you?"

Swallowing a mouthful, the girl ducks her head and mumbles, "L'nora."

"Lenora?" Alex beams. "How very pretty."

The girl blushes, smiling shyly.

"Quite a name for such a small thing, though." She pushes a glass of cold milk toward her, helping her to hold the cup in her small hands. "Would you mind terribly if we called you Nora instead?" The girl brightens, little feet kicking out in enthusiasm as she wipes the milk from her upper lip with a small, chubby hand. Alex laughs softly, stroking her tangled hair. "Nora it is, then." She glances up and finds Matt watching, his face carefully blank but his eyes narrowed in thought. "Darling?"

He blinks, glancing away with a frown. "What?"

She swallows the urge to ask him if he's all right, knowing he won't answer so easily. It'll only make him gruff and annoyed that he hadn't been hiding his emotions well enough. She bites her lip, glancing back at Nora's dirty face and torn dress. "I think perhaps she could use a bath."

"Of course." He rises fluidly, still not looking at her. "I'll get Iris to take her -"

"No," she says before she can stop herself. Without thought, she tightens her grip on Nora, who startles at the touch, poking her cheek curiously with a little finger. Matt pauses, brow furrowed. "I want to do it, darling. If you could just send someone to prepare the water."

The hard line of his mouth softens and he lifts his eyes to look at her, taking in the sight of Nora huddled against her with a wistful sigh. "As you wish, pet." He pauses just long enough to brush his hand across her shoulder blades before striding from the room, off to do what he does best – order people about.

Alex attempts a smile for Nora. "He's not so bad."

Bath time with Nora is… interesting. Alex isn't sure the girl has ever had a bath in her short little life but she delights in the warm water, splashing in the tub the servants had brought into one of the guest chambers. Alex ends up nearly as drenched as she does but she hardly pays it any mind, scrubbing dirt from her skin until it's pale and gleaming, washing her hair repeatedly until the tangles are gone and the dark strands squeak with cleanliness at her touch.

"There we are," she says brightly, lifting the girl from the tub and wrapping her in a fluffy towel. "Good as new, hmm?"

"If I didn't already know she was a street urchin, I'd have no idea." Alex glances over her shoulder and finds Matt lurking in the doorway, holding a small white nightgown. He holds it out to her with a muttered, "Thought she might need something to wear."

Smiling warmly, Alex lifts Nora into her arms and crosses the room to take it from him. "Thank you, darling. Where on earth did you find something to fit her?" She deposits Nora on the bed and drops the towel, slipping the nightgown on over her head.

He looks uncomfortable. "Iris. She likes to dress up her dolls."

Alex bites her lip against a smile, picturing him bringing home clothes for baby dolls, and wonders why she ever found him intimidating. The man is a softhearted scoundrel. "Pass me that comb on the dresser, would you?"

He picks it up and crosses the room to hand it to her and the moment he's close enough, Nora looks up at him with big blue eyes and smiles. Matt looks startled, blinking back at her in silence. Alex does her best to pretend she isn't paying either of them any mind, concentrating on brushing out Nora's long dark hair. It falls to her waist – she swears there's more hair than little girl – and requires quite a bit of care. She brushes out any remaining knots gently, watching out of the corner of her eye as Nora inches out a hand, eyeing Matt shyly.

For a long moment, he only stares uncomprehendingly at her outstretched palm before what she wants registers in that dear head of his. Looking astounded, he holds out his hand and lets Nora slip her small one into his. She beams up at him, perfect, white little teeth revealing that wherever she's from, she hadn't been living on the streets long. She swings their hands between them while Alex plaits her damp hair into a long braid down her back, trying not to smile at the strange picture the two of them make.

Tying off the braid at the bottom with a piece of ribbon, Alex stands back and says, "There. Don't you look pretty?"

Nora twirls on the spot, turning her head over her shoulder to look at her braid with a beaming grin. Then, she reaches for Matt again, tugging at his trouser leg and looking up at him questioningly. Alex smothers a grin. "She wants to know if you like it, darling."

He clears his throat, entirely out of his element, and attempts, "It's… very nice."

Apparently satisfied, Nora swiftly turns and clings to Alex's leg, burying her face in her skirts to

hide her blush. Laughing quietly, Alex bends to scoop her up, settling the girl on her hip and carrying her back to bed. Matt hovers uncertainly behind her, watching her tuck the girl in, her head sinking back into the plump pillow with a sleepy smile. Relaxed from her bath and fatigued from her exciting day, it only takes a moment of Alex stroking gentle fingers over her cheek and humming quietly before Nora's eyes grow heavy and the couple watches in silence as she slips off to sleep.

Alex tucks the blankets around her chin and steps back, right into Matt's arms. He wraps them around her waist, nose buried in her hair. "She likes you."

He grunts. "No idea why."

"You're her rescuer, darling. She trusts you." Alex leans her head back against his chest, smiling when he brushes his lips over her temple. "Besides, not everyone is fooled by your gruff exterior – children in particular see right through you." He grumbles under his breath and she smiles, eyes landing once more on the toddler curled up on the bed. "What will we do with her? She isn't nearly old enough to work here with the other children."

"Would you rather I take her back into town in the morning?" He asks, chin resting on her shoulder. She tenses, uncomfortable with the thought. As much as she hates to admit it, she's attached to the poor mite already and sending her away back to a workhouse just won't do. Matt sighs, as if reading her thoughts, and kisses the side of her neck softly. "I could make a few inquiries, see who might take her in. A church might be willing to house her."

Alex nods, ignoring the knot in her stomach. "Just find her a good home."

He kisses her neck again, moving her hair aside to taste her skin. Alex twists in his arms to face him, hands fisting in his shirt as she tilts her head up and accepts his hard kiss eagerly. One hand in her hair and the other on her hip, he guides her expertly out of the room and they leave Nora sleeping peacefully, crossing the corridor to their own chambers. Before they undress and climb into bed in a tangle of limbs, they make sure the door is unlocked, just in case a certain little girl wakes in the night.

A week later, Nora still doesn't have a permanent home but Alex can't say she minds and Matt doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get rid of her. She doesn't even know if he has attempted to make any of his inquiries into finding her a suitable home yet. He seems far too preoccupied spoiling Nora with pretty dresses and porcelain dolls, sitting her on his knee in his study while he goes over his paperwork.

Alex is no better, taking Nora with her into her garden and tucking blossoms behind her ears, teaching her the names of each flower and helping her to touch the soft petals. She holds her on her hip while she looks after Cerberus, coaxing Nora to pet his muzzle and laughing when Cerberus startles her with a nudge of his nose and she squeals, clinging to Alex's neck.

Today, she'd taken Nora for a short ride, the two of them ambling along the moors on Cerberus' back, Benson trailing along protectively behind them. And now, with the day's work done and dinner eaten hours ago, Alex leaves her warm spot next to the fire in the library to make herself a cup of tea. The hour is late and she doesn't want to trouble Hobbs when she's perfectly capable of making it herself. On the floor, Nora occupies herself with stacking the books she'd taken from the shelves, making towers as tall as she is before knocking them over and giggling, clapping her little hands in delight.

Matt peers at her from the top of his newspaper, grumbling that she's going to dent the spines but making no move to actually stop her. Alex bends to kiss his cheek, murmuring a quiet promise to make him a cup of tea as well before leaving the two of them on their own. Though he'd never admit to it, Matt is actually rather brilliant with her and Nora seems to enjoy his company despite his surliness, or perhaps even because of it. She gravitates toward Matt most often, clinging to his hand on walks through the moors and sneaking into his study after playing in the garden with Alex to shyly offer him a flower she'd picked. Matt, in turn, is as gentle as she's ever seen him – this dark, intimidating man most cower before turned to mush by a little girl. They make quite the pair.

It only takes her a few minutes to prepare them each a teacup and Nora a glass of milk, carrying it all back up the stairs on a tray but when she reaches the doorway to the library, she finds Matt has abandoned his newspaper and joined Nora on the floor. Alex pauses, hesitant to enter the room and interrupt them just yet. Matt instructs Nora in a soft, surprisingly patient voice that the smaller books should go on top and the larger ones on the bottom to provide a stable base for her tower.

Nora follows his advice dutifully, scrambling over his lap to fetch more books while Matt watches indulgently and Alex stares from behind the doorway, warmth blooming like an ache in her chest. He would be so perfect with a child of his own.

Just as she's about to push the thought aside and step into the room, Nora trips in her haste to grab a hefty book, stumbling and landing hard on the floor, her knee scraping against the rough edge of a hard -backed edition of Dante's Inferno. Alex inhales sharply, holding her breath, but Matt has her in his arms in seconds, one large hand stroking her hair as he shushes her. "You're alright," he says. "Be a brave girl, now."

Alex watches in stunned silence. Tears are usually a cause for alarm with Matt but he hadn't even hesitated. Nora clings to his neck and sniffles into his shoulder, mumbling, "Bad book."

Matt nods along with her, throwing a glare at the offending object like if he could punish a book, he would do so in a heartbeat. "Very bad book," he agrees. "We'll toss it out a window later, how's that?"

Nora releases a watery giggle. "Bye-bye, book."

He smirks, rubbing her back. "Perhaps we'll feed it to Cerberus. Would you like that?"

"'Berus eats apples," she points out, still sniffling slightly but looking cheered. She pulls back to lay a small hand against Matt's cheek. "Not books. Tummy ache."

"Of course. You're absolutely right." Matt settles her back on her feet again and pats the top of her head. "We'll just use the pages to line his stable."

Nora makes a face, mumbles yucky, and hugs his knees before toddling off again, gathering more books. Returning to his chair, Matt settles back in and picks up his paper. Not nearly as surprised as she might have been when she first married him at such a display of tenderness, Alex bustles into the room as if she hadn't seen anything at all. Setting the tray on the nearest table, she picks up the warm milk and says, "Here we are, a drink for my favorite girl."

Nora squeals in delight, giving Alex a clumsy kiss on the cheek in thanks, and wraps her little hands around the cup, gulping her drink. Alex smiles secretively, wondering if she'll ever make the connection between warm milk and bedtime and start refusing to drink it. Five minutes from now, she'll be curled up on the floor with her books and fast asleep.

Leaving her to it and ignoring the two cups of tea remaining on the tray for now, Alex steals the newspaper from her husband and sets it aside, occupying his now empty hands with a lapful of her instead. He doesn't complain about the change, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her close, nuzzling her neck. Watching Nora play on the floor, her bruised knee entirely forgotten, Alex slips her arms around his neck and smiles.

They go on almost like a family for another three days, both of them becoming more and more attached to the little girl Matt had brought home but unwilling to admit it. They ignore it instead, pretending they can just keep going as they are forever and Nora fits so well into their lives that it's easy for Alex to believe that maybe it will.

Arm linked through Matt's, she strolls along through the afternoon fog and keeps a close eye on Nora skipping ahead of them, making sure not to lose sight of her for a moment. She stoops to examine a leaf, long hair falling in loose curls around her face and the hem of her dress precariously close to a patch of mud. "Careful, dear. Don't dirty your dress."

"Let her play, pet," Matt strokes his fingers along the inside of her elbow. "We can buy another dress."

"Darling, don't be frivolous," she scolds lightly, too content with the stroke of his fingertips over her skin to really kick up a fuss. "It's not teaching her good values."

He sighs. "Well then perhaps I'll just buy her trousers and the two of you can gallivant around the moors like wild things together."

Alex smiles, tearing her eyes from Nora just long enough to look up at her husband. "Don't pretend you don't like it when I wear trousers."

"Not the point I was trying to make, pet."

"And what was your point, darling?"

He huffs at her smirking face, lips twitching.

"Mummy, Daddy – frog!"

They both turn at the sound of Nora's excited voice and find her bouncing on her toes, pointing at the frog only meters from her, and then her words register and they freeze instantly. Mummy. Daddy. Alex barely breathes, refusing to glance at her husband and let him see the tears stinging her eyes. She waits for him to correct Nora, to tell her in the quiet, gentle voice he always uses with the girl, that they are Matt and Alex – not her parents.

The correction doesn't come and instead, she hears only the rattling sound of a carriage in the distance. Matt glances up, his gaze turning sharp and steely. "Alex," he says urgently. "Take her inside. Now."

"But darling -" One look at his face is enough to stop the rest of her protests on the tip of her tongue and she nods, squeezing his hand briefly before hurrying to Nora and scooping her up. "Come along, lovely."

Nora squirms. "But my froggy -"

"We'll come back to visit him later, alright? I promise." She presses her lips to Nora's temple and nearly runs all the way back to the manor before whoever is visiting Matt can lay eyes on the precious bundle in her arms. "Mummy promises."

It only takes a few minutes before Matt comes to fetch her, slipping into the room that has somehow become Nora's in the short time she's been with them. Alex glances up from stacking blocks on the floor with Nora and one glimpse of his face is enough to make her heart begin to pound.

"Darling, what's the matter?"

He doesn't answer, leaning against the door and watching her play with Nora, his gaze pained. More alarmed than ever, she gives the child the rest of the blocks, pats her dark hair soothingly, and rises to her feet.

She smoothes her skirts with hands that shake and asks with forced cheer, "Have you finished your business? I didn't hear the carriage leave."

She moves to the window to glance out, hoping to see the carriage rattling down the drive. As her eyes scan the horizon, Matt finally speaks and she instantly wishes he hadn't. "That's because it's still here."

She knows. She doesn't know how she knows but she does and she can't bring herself to turn around and look at him. Instead, she curls her fingers tightly around the windowsill and shuts her eyes, bowing her head.

"A man and a woman are waiting in the parlour. They claim to be the girl's aunt and uncle – they've been looking after her since her parents passed." Matt clears his throat and it sounds as though he has to force the next words from his mouth. "They've come for her, pet. They've come to take her away."

She shakes her head, tears burning behind her eyelids. They had never planned on keeping her, she knows they hadn't, but part of her couldn't help but hope – "Right," she manages, voice wobbling. "Of course."

She feels Matt's hand on the small of her back instantly, providing comfort she isn't quite ready to accept. She shies away from him and hears him sigh. "Alex -"

"We should pack her things." She opens her eyes and squares her shoulders, turning from the window but avoiding his gaze. Instead, she watches Nora, still playing on the floor in blissful ignorance. She's stacking her blocks precariously high, little mouth already curled into an anticipatory grin for the moment she'll knock them all down. "She'll want to take her toys and the clothes we've bought her. And I'll get Hobbs to package a batch of her biscuits for the journey – you know how hungry she gets -"

"Alex, pet -"

"They lost her," she snaps. "They misplaced a child, Matt. She was filthy and starving when you found her, remember?" Her eyes fill up again and she wipes at them hurriedly before Nora sees. "They don't deserve her."

"No, they don't," he agrees darkly. "But we have no claim to her, pet."

"And are we sure they do? How did they even know where to find her?" She asks, feeling inexplicable contempt for people she has never even met. They're taking away Nora – it's more than enough reason to hate them in her mind.

"When they realized she was missing, they started making inquiries in town. Someone who was in the marketplace that day I found her recognized their description as the same little girl I carried off with me." Matt's eyes darken and he glances away, jaw tight. "They assumed I had taken her to work for me like the other children."

"And they came here expecting you to just hand her over – with your reputation?" Alex shakes her head, curls bouncing around her shoulders. "We can't just – she's happy here and I – she called me mummy." Her throat closes up and she can't say anything else, but she doesn't have to. Matt wraps an arm around her waist and draws her close, pressing a firm, apologetic kiss to her temple.

"I know." He swallows audibly. "I'm sorry, Alex."

While some of the servants begin to pack up Nora's clothes, toys, and books, Alex clings to the little girl, carrying her down the stairs with Matt at her side, a guiding hand on the small of her back. She couldn't bring herself to explain to Nora exactly what is happening and as a result, she is perfectly content in Alex's arms as they enter the parlour, stroking little fingers through her curls as has become her habit.

A slight, grubby looking woman with a pinched, harried expression rises from the settee the moment she sees Nora. "There you are, you naughty thing. Do you have any idea how long we been looking for you?" Nora starts at the sound of her aunt's voice, clinging to Alex a little tighter as she turns her head and looks at the woman across the room with wide eyes. "What would your mother – God rest her soul – say about you running off willy-nilly? I've a right mind to give a spanking, going off with a strange man like that!"

Alex tightens her arms around Nora and lifts her chin, glaring at the woman. "Perhaps if she were better looked after, she wouldn't have had the opportunity to run off."

The woman narrows her eyes, hands on her hips. "Begging your pardon Lady Smith, but I ain't got the time to follow after her all bloody day and I certainly ain't got any servants to do it for me like some."

Alex seethes but Matt's quelling hand sliding up her spine keeps her silent. "I assure you she has been well looked after here," he says, his voice cool and calm but still somehow managing to convey a hint of menace. "As I expect her to be once she leaves."

"Of course, Sir." The portly man still sitting on the settee finally speaks up with a jovial grin. "Like she was me own."

At Matt's nod, Alex reluctantly places Nora on her feet, stooping to her level and mustering a smile. "Your aunt and uncle are here to take you home, sweetheart. They've missed you very much." Nora stares at her, small fingers digging into Alex's wrist. "They're going to take good care of you, all right? And you'll bring your things with you, of course." Her smile turns watery but she forges ahead quickly. "Thank you for staying with us. We've -" Her voice catches and she feels Matt settle a hand on her shoulder. "We loved having you with us."

Nora's bottom lip starts to tremble as she begins to understand she is leaving and not coming back, and Alex can't stand the sight. She gathers the girl in for one last hug, holding her tightly and burying her face in Nora's dark, sweet-smelling curls.

"Goodbye, lovely."

The woman claps her hands with a smile. "Well, we should get out of your hair." She moves forward, arms outstretched. "Come on then, Lenora. Come to Auntie Beth and Uncle Tom."

Nora shrinks from her, little hands fisting in Alex's dress, but Beth pries her away, tugging her from Alex's arms with a grunt of exertion. "No!" Nora struggles, kicking and flailing mightily. "Not L'nora. Nora!"

"Yes, alright. Nora. Bloody hell, child." Beth sighs, settling Nora roughly on her hip, batting her hands away when she reaches out continuously for Alex.

Alex keeps her teary-eyed gaze fastened on the floor, drawing strength from Matt's hand curling around the back of her neck, fingers slipping into her hair. "You must visit," he tells them. "So we can see how she's doing. Or we'll visit you." The tone of his voice says that if he should be forced to make a personal visit to see Nora, it will be most unpleasant for all.

"Of course," says Tom, still smiling that disagreeable, wide grin. "Every other month, eh?"

Matt nods stiffly, though Alex knows every other month will hardly be enough for either of them.

Tom tips his hat. "Thank you kindly for putting up with her for us. Hope she didn't give you too much trouble."

"She was perfect," Alex says, glaring.

"Glad to hear it." Tom grins again and the strange couple turns to leave. Nora still struggles in Beth's arms, reaching over her shoulder for Alex with tears welling in her eyes and slipping down her cheeks.

"No," she shrieks, kicking and screaming. "Mummy! Daddy!"

Alex bites back a sob, whirling away from the sight of her leaving and burying her face in Matt's chest. He wraps strong arms tightly around her, cradling her head in his palm as Nora's cries echo off the walls.

"Mummy and Daddy ain't here, silly thing," Beth shouts over her wailing. "You only got us now. So stop struggling before Uncle Tom spanks your bottom!"

Matt tenses suddenly, dropping his arms from around Alex and she lifts her head, eyes red and tear-filled. He drops a kiss to her hair and gently pushes her aside, his gaze dark and determined as he takes a step forward. "I'll give you a thousand pounds to give her to us," he calls out.

Nearly down the hall and to the front door, Tom and Beth freeze, turning slowly to look at him with wide, glittering eyes. Alex can read the greed on their faces as plain as day and hope flares in her chest. "Her?" Beth calls over Nora's sobs. "You want her?"

"Yes," Matt snaps. "Very much. And I'm willing to pay."

Heart in her mouth, Alex rasps, "Darling, what are you doing?"

He turns to look at her, eyeing her through his fringe. "I see no reason why she shouldn't remain here where she'll be properly looked after. We certainly have the means to care for her." He hesitates. "And she clearly means a great deal to you."

"And to you?"

He huffs grumpily. "Yes, obviously."

Behind them, Tom clears his throat and they turn to find him and his wife standing in the middle of the room once more, bright-eyed and eager. Nora still struggles in Beth's arms, reaching out for Alex, her cheeks red and streaked with tears. "Any man willing to pay a thousand pounds for the mite will surely be willing to pay two thousand."

Matt grits his teeth and Alex curls a calming hand around his bicep, more determined than ever that Nora never leave with these people. To be in need of money is one thing – she sees desperate souls crawling here on their knees every day, begging Matt for any loan he'll give them – but to bargain for that money for the price of a little girl is despicable. "Very well," he says with a terse nod. "So long as you agree to sign Nora over to us and never return."

The couple exchange one quick, gleeful glance and while Beth is occupied, Nora finally manages to escape her grasp, scrambling on little legs across the room and launching herself at Alex, who stoops to scoop her up and cradle the girl tightly to her. They're both in tears, clinging to each other as if they might be separated again at any moment. Alex strokes her hand over Nora's dark hair, shushing her quiet whimpers. "It's alright, sweetheart," she murmurs. "You're not going anywhere." She meets Matt's gaze over Nora's shoulder and he watches her with soft, adoring eyes, brow pinched. She manages a watery smile for him and he relaxes.

He turns to the couple still deliberating in the middle of the room, eyeing them with the same cold disinterest he does all of his clients. "Do we have a deal?"

Tom and Beth nod in unison. "So long as you agree to the same," Tom ventures warily. "We can't have you coming to find us in a few months trying to give her up. She'll be your burden now."

Matt flexes his jaw, nostrils flaring. "I assure you," he manages silkily. "Nora will be no burden on us."

"Alright then." Tom beams, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "What do we need to sign to make it official?"

"I believe I can draw up a binding document." Matt inclines his head in the right direction. "Parker."

The boy appears around the doorframe almost instantly and as evidenced by the wide grin on his face, Alex knows he's been listening rather than helping the others pack. "Yes, Sir?"

"Show my clients to my study." He lets his gaze drift to Alex, Nora still bundled in her arms. "I'll be along shortly."

With a nod, Parker silently leads Tom and Beth from the room, still smiling as he disappears with the newly rich couple. In the ensuing silence, Alex swallows hard. "Matt, darling, do you know what you're doing?"

He nods, eyes flaring with warmth as he looks at her. "She's the closest we'll ever come to a child of our own, pet."

Her eyes fill up and she glances down at Nora still snuggled against her, pursing her lips tightly. Once she's quite sure she isn't going to cry, she looks up again and attempts a light-hearted, "Darling, please tell me you did not steal her for me."

He scowls but his lips curl ever so slightly. "Of course not. You said once that we're parents without a child." He clears his throat, eyes darting to her face and away again. "And she just so happens to be a child without parents. We fit."

She releases a quiet, choked laugh, covering her mouth with her hand. "Yes, we do." A child with Matt – even through such unconventional means – is more than she has allowed herself to hope for. "Are you sure this is what you want, darling? Truly? I distinctly remember a time when you said your life was not meant for children."

"I meant it wasn't safe. And it still isn't," he admits, and then looks up at her and Nora with fierce determination in his eyes. "But I will protect her. Just as I've protected you."

She smiles tearfully. "I know you will."

Matt crosses the distance between them in one long-legged stride, taking Alex into his arms, Nora crushed between them without complaint. Long fingers curling around her upper arms and gripping tightly, Matt bends his head and captures her mouth in a hard, exultant kiss. Alex beams against his lips, using her free hand to tug at his coat and draw him as close as she possibly can. "Did we just -"

"Buy a child?" Matt smirks, nipping lightly at her bottom lip. "I believe so."

Alex stifles a grin. "Well, it's certainly better than that knife you bought me for our anniversary."

He huffs, scowling at her, and she's just about to reassure the silly man that somehow that knife means more to her than any gift she's ever been given but Nora sniffles into her neck and they both fall silent. Alex strokes a hand up and down her back, shushing her softly. "It's alright, lovely. Everything is alright now, I promise." She lifts her eyes to Matt and smiles. "Mummy and Daddy are right here."

Eyes bright, Matt rests one hand on Nora's back and the other cups Alex's cheek tenderly. "She's ours now." He smiles softly and he looks beautiful, like the first time she ever saw him smile in a carriage on the way to town, still a little afraid of him and wanting so badly not to see the good in the man she married. "Our daughter."

"Oh, darling." Alex leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him again, a sweet, enthusiastic brush of her mouth against his. "She has been since the moment you decided to put her on your horse and bring her here." She laughs quietly, ducking her head to brush her lips against the top of their daughter's dark head. "But only Nora knew. She knew she was home all along."

no moon, no stars

Chapter Summary

She thought it was a miracle.

Chapter Notes

Trigger warning: miscarriage

Remember that this fic takes place BEFORE the events of the last one I posted. Story title from Myth of Devotion by Louise Gluck.

She thought it was a miracle. She thought perhaps the doctors had been wrong. She thanked God for the mistake because otherwise she'd have been married off long ago and never to Matt. She teases her husband that the dense fog must be beneficial to reproduction. She smiles so widely that every night when she falls asleep, the muscles in her cheeks ache.

Her belly grows rounded, her figure softer. She glows.

Matt fusses and spoils her, becoming more endearingly protective than before. Even he can't help the soft look in his eyes.

She wakes in the middle of the night, blood staining her nightgown.

She should have known – should have expected this. But she hadn't and somehow, that makes the loss so much worse.

Stricken, Matt stumbles from their bed and out into the corridor, screaming for Benson or Hobbs or anyone at all. Their staff floods the hallway, all of them wearing sleepy, terrified expressions. Matt refuses to let them in, white-faced as he snaps for someone to fetch a doctor.

Tears spilling down her cheeks, Alex curls into a ball in the middle of the bed and closes her eyes. There's no use in a doctor and she knows it. She has a feeling Matt knows it too but her husband is a man of action. He needs to feel as if he has done something – anything – to save their child.

She curls a hand around her cramping abdomen and presses against the slight swell of her stomach. She'd been hoping for a boy all this time. A son for Matt.

He's at her side again in an instant, slender, sure hands cupping her face as he presses his lips to her forehead. "It's alright, pet," he murmurs. "You're going to be just fine."

"My baby," she whimpers, shaking her head. "Not my baby."

He shushes her softly, gathering her into his arms. She struggles for a moment, bloodied and ashamed, but he holds her tightly, heedless of the mess, and she sags against him, too tired to continue putting up a fight. She curls her bloodstained fingers into the collar of his nightshirt, and he holds her until the doctor arrives –still in his nightclothes and looking annoyed, Benson standing menacingly behind him.

"Let's have a look," he says, rolling up his sleeves.

Matt nods his thanks to Benson, who disappears with a last fleeting, mournful glance at Alex. With reluctance, she moves from Matt's arms and back into bed as the doctor approaches. As if he can't stand to watch, he rises from the bed and paces away from her. Alex opens her legs but keeps her eyes focused on her husband, feeling sick to her stomach.

Jaw tight, Matt walks to the door and opens it, sticking his head out to murmur an order to those still waiting outside. She doesn't breathe until he shuts the door and turns to look at her once more. "Matt," she says, voice quavering, and though she can't manage to say anything else, that one word was all she needed. He sinks to his knees beside her, taking her hand in his.

Kissing her knuckles reverently, he turns his gaze to the doctor and snaps, "Well?"

The doctor confirms what they already know. The child is lost.

On her side and staring blankly at the wall, nightgown still around her waist, Alex barely hears the doctor murmur something to Matt along the lines of sorry and just not capable of carrying a child. Matt shows him the door with a handsome tip and returns looking hollow-eyed and solemn, balancing a pitcher of warm water and a washcloth in one hand, and carrying clean linen in the other.

Watching him put everything at their bedside carefully and quietly, Alex purses her trembling lips

and manages, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" His voice sounds rough and scratchy, and her heart leaps into her throat. "What on earth do you have to be sorry for, pet?"

"For not being strong enough to carry our baby," she whispers.

Matt stops pouring water from the pitcher into the basin on their dresser and turns to her, his dark gaze suddenly fierce and bright. "You believe this is your fault?"

"Well it certainly isn't yours."

He shakes his head, visibly gritting his teeth. "It isn't yours either."

"The doctor said -"

"I don't care what that worthless quack said," he snaps, and when she flinches, he softens. "You are stronger than anyone I have ever met, love."

She bites her lip, glancing away.

He sighs. "Come here, let's clean you up."

Helping her stand on unsteady legs, he guides her to the water basin and strips her of her sullied nightgown. His hands are reverent as he cleans the blood from between her legs, his arms strong and steady as she leans against him for balance. Tears slip down her cheeks and drop into his hair but he doesn't acknowledge them, choosing instead to murmur quietly, "It's alright, pet. Almost over now."

She doesn't speak as he helps her into a new nightdress and guides her to sit at her vanity while he strips their bed of the bloody sheets and puts on the clean ones, watching him with fondness in her aching heart. He could have had a servant come in and do all of this but instead, he's taking care of her himself. Despite the gaping loss clawing its way up her throat like a sob, she can't help being grateful to her gruff but tender husband.

He wraps an arm around her waist and helps her to stand. "You need to rest," he says, and her eyes fill up again because he sounds like a lost little boy and she's in no position to comfort him now.

"I'm sorry," she says again, tears choking her.

"You've nothing to be sorry for." Matt tucks her in, drawing the blankets up to her chin.

She turns her cheek into her pillow, face crumpling with grief. "I wanted to give you a son."

Smoothing the hair from her forehead, Matt settles onto the edge of the bed beside her with a heavy sigh. "And I wanted a son. But I only need you, do you understand me? Just you, pet."

Alex nods, closing blurry eyes to the sight of his pained face. One hand pressed to her stomach, she clings to his tightly gripping fingers with the other and eventually cries herself into an exhausted sleep.

Morning comes too quickly and Alex wakes alone, facing Matt's empty side of the bed. Her hand is still curled around her stomach and for one brief, shining moment, she thinks it was all a horrible dream. The changed sheets on the bed and the ache of emptiness quickly rob her of any hope of that. As soon as the loss washes over her anew, she wants to curl into a ball and sob but she stifles the urge quickly, blinking her burning eyes.

There will be plenty of time to grieve, but her first order of business is her husband.

Slowly, she sits up and climbs out of bed. The task of dressing herself and preparing for the day seems insurmountable so she doesn't bother, reaching instead for the dressing gown in her wardrobe and wrapping it tightly around her frame. The corridor is empty and the house itself completely silent but she thinks nothing of it as she clings to the wall until she reaches the staircase, which she navigates gingerly. They all had a very traumatizing night, with Matt waking them up at three in the morning screaming for a doctor. The poor things are probably quite upset and she promises herself she'll talk to them soon. As soon as she makes sure Matt doesn't need her first.

She rounds the corner and finds the corridor where his study is located filled with children – Iris, Hobbs, and Parker among them – hovering outside the door. Frowning, she asks, "What's going on here?"

They turn to look at her with stricken faces and Alex draws herself up a little taller, determined to show them she's just fine, even if she feels anything but. Hobbs is the one to finally step forward. "Should you be out of bed, Mistress?"

"I'm perfectly fine, dear." A blatant lie that Hobbs recognizes instantly, if the pursing of her lips is any indication, but she knows better than to question Alex again. "Now why are you all standing about? Where is your Master?"

Hobbs glances at the door to Matt's study and bites her lip. "He shut himself away after he put you to bed, Missus. Made an ungodly ruckus – throwing things about, I imagine."

Alex casts a worried glance at the door along with everyone else, a lump forming in her throat. "Is he alright?"

Hobbs shrugs. "I suppose so. Just upset. The noise stopped about an hour ago but we hadn't dared try to check on him just yet."

Pressing a hand against the wall next to her for balance, Alex draws in a deep, steadying breath and lets it out through her nose, struggling against tears. "Thank you all for staying with him," she says softly. "But I'll take it from here. Get some rest."

Hobbs looks like she wants to protest but one look at Alex's tired but determined face changes her mind. She deflates, nodding. "I'll make you breakfast in an hour, ma'am."

Alex nods her thanks, waiting patiently as her childish staff files by her one by one, most of them stopping to hug her gently around the waist or to press a kiss to her cheek. She accepts them all gratefully but when Parker wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her stomach to hide his tears, she can't help but give in to her own, hugging the boy tightly to her.

"I'm sorry, Missus," he croaks. "I don't mean to upset you."

"It's alright, dear. Don't cry – the baby is still with us, hmm?" She presses one hand to her heart

and the other over his, smiling tremulously. "He's still in here."

He nods, sniffling.

"Go sleep now," she urges gently, smoothing his dark hair from his brow. "We'll be alright."

One of the older boys is waiting for him at the end of the hall, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and leading Parker away when he reaches him. Alex takes a moment outside the door to compose herself, wiping at her cheeks and straightening her shoulders. Matt is upset enough without seeing her like this.

When she opens the door, the study looks like a madman broke in with the sole purpose of destroying absolutely everything. Busted glass, torn papers and shredded books litter the floor. His heavy mahogany desk is turned over on its side, the contents of the drawers spilled out, the inkwells upended and staining the expensive rug. She stands in the doorway taking it all in, a hand pressed to her mouth. He'd been so quiet, so gentle with her. He'd saved his rage for when he could be alone. Her husband is so inept when it comes to his emotions – she should have known instead of crying like her, he would get angry.

It takes her only a moment to locate Matt, sitting in the middle of the wreckage, his back pressed against a now empty bookshelf. He looks a rumpled mess, his nightshirt wrinkled and stained with her blood, his hair unkempt. Staring off into the distance with a half-empty bottle of brandy in hand, he doesn't even seem to notice her.

Alex clears her throat softly.

He jerks his head up to look at her, lips parting in surprise. "You shouldn't be out of bed," is all he manages to say.

"I needed to find my husband," she says. "I can't sleep without him."

He takes a long, slow pull from the bottle. "I'm sorry," he says, glancing away. "I'll clean up the mess, pet -"

"You think I care about any of this?" She gestures around them with a tearful scoff. "I care about you, darling. You are my priority. I want to know why you're here instead of upstairs with me, where you should be."

He swallows thickly, eyes trained on the hem of her dressing gown. "I didn't want you to see me like this."

"What? Mad?" She manages a thin smile. "I hate to be the one to tell you, my love, but I have already seen you at your worst and I'm still here."

He shakes his head, lifting dark eyes to hers. "Not like this. Not -"

"It's okay to be angry, Matt."

"You're not."

"Who says we have to grieve the same way?" She reaches for his hand and he holds tightly to it, helping her to sink to the floor and sit next to him. She curls herself into his side, her head on his shoulder, and he gathers her close, his lips against her temple. He smells strongly of brandy but she holds him to her like she'll never let go. "But don't shut me out, darling. Don't hide from me. If we're going to get through this, it has to be together."

"All those children," he finally says, voice low and dangerously soft. "The ones I bring home because their parents abandoned them. The orphanages filled with unwanted babes. People who don't deserve children have them every day."

Alex says nothing, threading her fingers through his hair.

"And you." He stops, swallowing, hands clenching into fists. "You deserve to have a child more than anyone and you can't. I learned a long time ago that the world isn't fair but you shouldn't. You should have everything."

"Oh, darling." She takes his fists in her hands, uncurling them tenderly and pressing her lips to his fingertips. He curls his hands around her head and kisses her, a brief, but hard clash of mouths. Gasping when he pulls away to bury his face in the crook of her neck, Alex rests her chin atop his head and breathes, "I love you."

He tightens his arms around her, her silent but strong darling.

"And you know," she says after a moment, "Perhaps we're not meant to have a child of our own for a reason." Matt says nothing. He may not agree with her but he'll let her cling to the belief if she needs to. She drops a kiss into his hair, sweeping a thumb over the back of his neck. "We're parents without children. Perhaps our role is to look after the children without parents. We fit."

"And that's enough for you?" Matt lifts his head, studying her intently.

"Not now, no," she admits, reaching up a hand to cup his cheek. "Right now I'm hurting just as much as you are, my love. But eventually – one day – I believe it will be enough for both of us."

Her bottom lip trembles and Matt captures it between his own, kissing her softly. She wraps her arms around his neck, hiding her face in his chest, and he drops his face into her hair. As outside, a late afternoon rain begins to fall on the moors and wind rattles the panes, Lord and Lady Smith curl up together in the middle of the wreckage and grieve – together.

you are made of deeper stuff than the earth can give

Chapter Summary

Now that people know about Nora, she isn't about to hide away from one angry client. Hiding, she often tells Matt, is a sign of weakness.

Chapter Notes

Originally written as a CONGRATS YOU'RE GOING TO GRAD SCHOOL gift for Kazza. Story title from Letter from Hades to Persephone by Clementine Von Radics.

Usually, when Matt is entertaining a client, Alex tries to stay out of his way. He never does business with them for more than an hour or two and it always helps him breathe a little easier knowing she's out of sight and therefore out of mind. Of course, it was relatively easy to stay tucked away in their chambers or chatting with Hobbs in the kitchen before.

Alex can't help the smile that comes to her face as she thinks of the reason why staying out of sight isn't always possible now. Nora slips her little hand into hers, bouncing happily on her toes as they make their way from the kitchen. They'd waited as long as they could but Nora simply had to have her afternoon snack and was quite ready to pitch a fit if she didn't get it. Now, perfectly sedated with one of Hobbs' biscuits in hand, she follows Alex willingly.

To get back upstairs without taking the servant staircase, they have to walk through the entrance hall and the sound of angry voices reaches their ears the closer they get. "You can't just take everything! Do you have any idea who I am?"

"A desperate man who needed money, that's all any of you ever are to me," Matt snaps. "Nameless, faceless, desperate cattle."

Unused to hearing her father truly angry – his general manner of grumpiness amuses her endlessly but never before has she witnessed his cold rage – Nora sneaks anxious glances at Alex, fingers tightening their grip on her mother's hand. Alex attempts a reassuring smile and whispers, "Daddy's just a little angry, lovely. I'm sure seeing you will make it all better."

If it weren't for their rather eventful trip into town a few months ago – and the row that preluded it

in which Alex insisted they couldn't keep Nora hidden away on the moors forever while Matt snarled that yes they bloody well could – she might have turned around and taken the servant staircase instead. Now that people know about Nora, she isn't about to hide away from one angry client. Hiding, she often tells Matt, is a sign of weakness.

"You can't treat people like this," the other man spits in disgust, just as Alex and Nora stride into the entrance hall. "You're a monster."

Alex doesn't look up to see the man or the unhappy expression no doubt on Matt's face at the sight of them but out of the corner of her eye, she sees Benson with a hand on the man's elbow, clearly escorting him from the manor. She tightens her grip on her daughter's hand and keeps walking.

Nora, however, isn't so keen to keep a low profile. Half-eaten biscuit clutched in her hand and chewing on a mouthful, she stamps her little foot and glares at the client. "Daddy not a monster." She bares her teeth, the little heathen. "You are, shouty man."

Alex cringes, tugging her daughter along hurriedly. The damage has been done, of course, and the man's attention is focused solely on Matt's wife and child. "You should be careful how you treat your clients, Lord Smith."

Benson yanks him by the elbow with an angry grunt and Matt takes a step forward. Though she can't see his face, Alex imagines his eyes dark and his mouth a thin, menacing line. She pauses, gripping Nora's wrist, and listens.

"It would be a real tragedy if something happened to your sweet little family," he says. "Especially your little girl. Who knows what people would do to a pretty thing like that, if you made them angry enough -"

He doesn't get another chance to speak – Benson fists a hand around the back of his collar and chokes the rest of the words from his throat. Before Matt can even reach him to inflict further damage, Alex lets go of Nora's hand and crosses the room, shoving the man against the front door, satisfied when his head smacks against the wood hard enough to make him flinch.

"How dare you," she hisses. "How dare you come into my home and threaten my child, you evil ill-bred scum." He attempts to push away from the door but Benson curls a meaty hand around his shoulder to keep him in place and Alex jabs an angry finger at his chest. "If any harm ever comes to my little girl, I will hold you personally responsible. I will hunt you down like a blood-thirsty hound and I will not rest until I have used your entrails as garden fertilizer and buried your putrid, eviscerated body so deeply in the moorlands that no one but the fog will ever find you again." She

glares up at him, cheeks flushed and green eyes narrowed on his pale, stricken face. "You have no idea who you are dealing with and I am not referring to my husband, do I make myself clear?"

Stunned into silence and staring down at the formidable woman pinning him to the door, the man doesn't respond for a long moment. Behind them, Matt stares at the back of her head hungrily and Nora finishes her biscuit, unaffected by her mother's display as she skips up to her father and clings to his hand.

Finally, Matt's client manages a tense nod, swallowing.

Alex pokes his chest again. "Say it then."

He gulps. "I understand."

"I understand what?"

His eyes widen and he stutters out, "I understand, Lady Smith."

"Good." She nods once and steps away, dusting off her hands on her skirts as she glances at Benson. "Get him out of my sight and off my property."

"Gladly, Mistress," Benson mutters, and hauls the man out the front door by the collar of his shirt.

Alex sighs as the door shuts behind them, turning to face her husband and daughter. "What a detestable, horrid little toad -"

The rest of her sentence is swallowed up by Matt's mouth on hers in a hard, bruising kiss, his hands clutching either side of her face as he attempts to eat her alive. She can barely breathe but she doesn't fight him, gripping his collar and opening her mouth beneath his ardently, happy to let him devour her whole in his passion. She gasps for air when he finally parts from her mouth, his hands roaming over her bodice as he breathes harshly into her neck, leaving a trail of biting kisses along her throat. "My god," he growls. "You are glorious."

She tilts her head to the side, eyes fluttering shut, utterly lost in his ardor until the sound of little hands clapping reaches her ears and Nora giggles. "Do it again, Mummy! Act like Daddy again!"

She laughs as Matt huffs and steps away from her breathlessly, a bright flush on his cheekbones as he turns to eye their daughter. "What do you mean 'act like daddy?'" He scowls down at her but Nora grins, offering him the last bite of her biscuit. With a growl of annoyance, Matt stoops to scoop her up into his arms, settling her on his hip. "I'm much scarier than your mother."

Nora looks at him dubiously and Alex smothers a grin in the palm of her hand. "Silly," she declares him, and pecks his cheek.

His shoulders slump and he looks despairingly at Alex.

Leaning into his side with a loving smile, she kisses the cheek that Nora hadn't and murmurs, "Don't worry, darling. You're still our grumpy bugger."

"Bugger!" Nora repeats.

Matt glares at her and Alex bites her lip guiltily. "Why don't you go back to the kitchen and have another biscuit with Hobbs? Tell her she's to look after you until I come back to fetch you, alright?"

Nora allows him to set her back on her feet again and frowns up at him. "Leaving?"

He shakes his head. "Only upstairs." He smirks. "I need to teach your mother some manners."

Alex whacks his arm, blushing.

this is how one foot sinks into the ground

Chapter Summary

It starts when Alex wins an argument. Not, Matt surmises with a disgruntled frown, that she doesn't usually win most of their arguments.

Chapter Notes

I have quite a few completed ficlets like these that I'll be posting in the next few weeks if people are still interested - it seemed silly to have written them for nothing *shrugs* Story title from Persephone, Falling by Rita Dove.

It starts when Alex wins an argument. Not, Matt surmises with a disgruntled frown, that she doesn't usually win most of their arguments. But this one had been hard fought by both of them and only ended when Alex threatened to wait until he left on a business trip before venturing into town with Nora on her own. The thought had so horrified him that Matt had relented immediately. He could do everything within his power to ensure the safety of his wife and the little girl recently place into their care while he's home but when he's away, he has every confidence that Alex would sneak away from Benson and steal a horse just to prove a point.

It isn't that he doesn't want Nora to go into town, it's that he doesn't want town to know Nora exists. He doesn't want anyone – especially those who have cause to hold a grudge against him – to know that not only does he have a wife he values above all else, but a precious daughter too. They are the only ones he cares about in this world, besides his daft sister, and he will do everything in his power to keep them from harm. And that means keeping Nora away from the prying eyes of, well, everyone.

In the carriage slowly rattling its way far from the moors and into the nearest town, Alex eyes him with amused concern. "Darling, you look ill. Are you quite sure you wouldn't rather remain at the manor?"

He glares and she stifles a smile, turning to look at Nora sitting beside her. Dressed in a pretty red gown to match her mother's, she swings her little legs over the seat and hums quietly to herself, arranging her petticoats with fascination. She still isn't quite used to wearing all the finery that comes with having a wardrobe of more than one thin peasant dress. Matt still scowls when he thinks of the rags her relatives dressed her in.

Smoothing her long dark hair from her forehead, Alex leans in close and says, "Sweetheart,

Daddy looks quite glum. Why don't you sit with him and cheer him up, hmm?"

Nora glances up, brow wrinkled adorably, and Matt struggles not to look as volatile and on edge as he feels. Seeing right through him anyway, Nora hops from her seat next to Alex and clambers onto his, struggling in her skirts until she climbs onto his lap and sits primly, gazing up at him shyly through her lashes. It's impossible not to melt but Alex is watching him closely and he so hates to prove her right. Reaching up, Nora pats his cheek lightly and confides in a whisper, "Don't be scared. Hold hands?"

Alex bites back a snort and glances out the carriage window, a hand over her mouth.

Sighing, Matt allows himself a thin smile and taps his little girl – his little girl, still such a strange, foreign concept – on the nose. "That would be splendid."

She beams up at him and then leans back, snuggling into his chest for the duration of the ride. Town is bustling, as usual, teeming with people. Matt helps his wife and child from the carriage with his teeth clenched, already tense. He puts his top hat onto his head, allows Alex to slip her arm through his, and waits until she has a firm grip on Nora's hand before he starts to lead them along down the street.

The image of his dark, tall figure stalking down the street is enough of a deterrent for most, and quite a few people scurry to the other side of the street at the sight of him. It makes him feel a little better but it's only when Alex glances up at him with a reassuring smile that he begins to relax. "It's going to be fine," she murmurs, and then offers a smile to a passerby. Matt feels simultaneously guilty and proud when the man flinches away from her. "We can't hide her forever, you know."

He frowns. "We could certainly try."

"Oh stop it," she huffs, smiling. "I'm just going to browse a bit. We'll be here an hour at the most, and then we'll be off. Think you can manage not to terrify everyone in the meantime?"

Not really, no.

Alex sighs like she knows the answer too. "Just don't hit anyone. Or entice anyone into hitting you."

"Yes, fine. I'm hardly some sort of barbarian," he snaps.

"Of course not." She frowns. "But I know your temper."

He tightens his grip on her arm, fingers stroking her elbow in a silent promise to be on his best behavior. The stares are not subtle, and though most people are terrified of Matt, they're wary of Alex too. He can't begin to understand why, the woman is sunshine incarnate and he is the dark cloud hovering at her side, always moments from bursting and showering them all with lightning and rain. Nora, on the other hand, is on the receiving end of many a curious, fascinated stare as she skips along at Alex's side, happily oblivious to the scrutiny. Matt grits his teeth and stifles the urge to snarl at everyone who looks at her.

They walk along the street window shopping for a time, Matt making mental notes to come back later to make purchases whenever Alex or Nora stand too long in front of a certain display, admiring something shiny in the window. Hands and nose pressed against the glass in front of a toy store, Nora stares inside at a delicate porcelain doll with a painted face, eyes wide. "Mummy, look," she breathes, and Matt's heart still thrills to hear a child call Alex that.

By the look on her face, Alex loves it too. She leans in close and smoothes back Nora's hair, staring in the window along with her. "I see," she says softly. "It's beautiful."

Nora nods, still entranced.

Alex smiles and takes her hand. "Come along, lovely. Sit with Daddy for a bit."

Frowning, Matt allows her to shuffle Nora close to him. "Where are you going?"

"Nowhere," she says loud enough for Nora to hear. "Just want to look at some fabric next door and you'll both be terribly bored if you tag along."

Satisfied, Nora slips a hand into Matt's coat pocket, fishing for sweets.

Leaning into him, Alex straightens his cravat and whispers, "I want her to have the doll."

He nods, lips twitching. "Buy it then. I would have if you didn't."

"She's going to be frightfully spoiled, isn't she?" Alex looks positively giddy at the thought and Matt wishes for nothing more than to ignore propriety and public opinion of him to kiss her breathless. "We have a child to spoil. Can you imagine?"

"We have dozens of children to spoil, pet," he says, eyes dropping to her mouth without thought. "In case you've forgotten the ungodly amount of sweets you just bought for the lot of them."

"Oh hush, you know what I mean." She grins. "This one is ours – legally and bindingly ours. Now stay here with her while I buy her something pretty."

Before he can stop her, she leans up on her toes and kisses the corner of his mouth, hurrying away in a rustle of skirts and a giggle. Matt ducks his head just in case he looks as flushed as he feels, very conscious of the stares around him. He keeps an eye on Nora from under the brim of his top hat, watching her unwrap one of the chocolates she'd taken from his coat pocket and pop it into her mouth.

She hands the wrapper back to him and he slips it into his pocket with a patient sigh. Nora is a squirmy little thing, never sitting still long. She lingers at his side for only a moment before wandering along the sidewalk, placing one foot in front of the other as she tries to balance on her toes. Matt watches her like a hawk, prepared to call her back should she stray too far.

She twirls, eyes on the skirt of her dress as she watches her petticoats swirl around her knees. "Pretty!" She calls out, delighted.

Matt tips his hat at her and she beams.

Lingering on her little form as she goes back to walking on her toes again, Matt drops his gaze for only a moment, slipping a hand into his inner coat pocket for his watch. Alex is taking far too long and he's getting just as restless as their toddler. He hates town. He ventures into it when he must, to collect payments and make deals, to buy trinkets for his wife. He conducts his business here and he leaves as quickly as possible. People put him in such a foul mood.

A childish cry startles him into glancing up and the moment he spots Nora on the ground and holding her scraped knee, he curses himself for looking away from her for even an instance. "Daddy," she sobs, tears rolling down her cheeks.

It seems the entire street freezes, staring at him and his daughter in dumbfounded silence. For the first time Matt can remember, he doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him. He doesn't care about his reputation, he doesn't care that people will talk. The moment Nora calls for him, he's at her side in an instant, scooping her up into his arms and cradling her to his chest. "Shh," he murmurs, rocking her soothingly, a hand sliding up and down her back. "Don't cry, poppet. It's all right. You're fine."

She cries into his neck, arms wrapped around him. "My knee, Daddy."

"What have I told you about skipping about on your toes, you clumsy thing?" He asks, shifting her in his arms to take a look. He can tell that it must have hurt but the scrape is nothing that will need special attention. "Look at that," he says softly, directing her gaze down. "Not even bleeding, is it?"

Nora shakes her head, sniffling.

The little bell above the door of the toyshop jingles and Matt looks up to find Alex strolling out with a smile, her purchase in hand. Her face falls at the sight of Nora's tears and she rushes up to them with her brow furrowed in concern. "Oh, my poor love, what's happened?"

"Scraped her knee," Matt answers, passing Nora off to her mother and letting Alex soothe the little girl with a cuddle and her surprise gift. He straightens his coat and fixes a scowl firmly in place but as judging, calculating eyes slowly slide away from him, he knows it doesn't matter. The damage has already been done.

Laura's incensed letter arrives within a fortnight, complaining that she had to hear of her niece's existence by word of mouth instead of her own brother. Matt barely has time to think about penning an apology and reluctantly offering to house her and her new husband for a brief visit before she shows up on their doorstep unannounced, James and an alarming number of bags in tow.

He follows her and her husband up the stairs, enduring Laura's scolding until she pauses for breath. "How long are you planning to stay?"

Laura whirls on him with a glare. "As long as it takes to get to know my niece. Honestly, Matty, how can you adopt a little girl and not tell your sister?"

"We've not told anyone," he sighs. "You're hardly special."

James shuffles past nervously, carrying their bags into the guest room.

She huffs. "Tell that to my sewing circle. They all knew." Matt pushes away the uneasiness that follows those words and scowls at his sister. Undeterred, she crosses her arms over her chest. "Now where is the little darling?"

"Napping," he says, frowning. "You will meet her at dinner. And in two days, you will leave."

Laura narrows her eyes at him. "Five."

"Two."

"Four."

"Two."

"Three."

"Two."

She growls at him and bites out, "Fine."

With a triumphant smirk, he leaves his sister and her husband to get settled, managing to hide in his study and avoid them until Parker comes to fetch him for dinner. He goes upstairs to change his jacket and cravat, irrationally annoyed when Alex isn't in their bedroom dressing. He always tries to time it so that he walks in before she has slipped into her gown.

He changes alone tonight and heads to the dining room to join his sister and brother-in-law, mood dropping further when he sees Alex's chair still empty. Laura glances up at his arrival, smoothing

her napkin over her lap. "There you are," she scolds. "Late to dinner in your own home. I thought Alex was supposed to improve your manners."

"The only thing my wife has improved is my ability to tolerate you," he replies snippily. What is it about her presence that makes him feel like an annoyed twelve-year-old boy?

Laura laughs aloud. "And bless her for it."

Nodding his thanks when Hobbs places a glass of wine in front of him, James asks, "How is your lovely wife? I imagine she's quite beside herself having a little one to look after."

"Him too," Laura says with a smirk. "He doesn't take in orphans because he's bored. He adores children, though he'll never say."

He scowls. "I do not."

Laura looks smug. "See?"

Hobbs puts a glass of wine in front of him, pointedly not looking at him. He sighs, feeling a twinge of regret. "You know what I mean."

She nods, smiling a little. "Yes, Sir."

His sister's smirk deepens.

Matt glares. "Hobbs, fetch your mistress."

"Don't bother, I'm right here." Alex sweeps into the room carrying Nora in her arms and Laura jumps from her seat with a squeal of delight, wringing her hands. "Sorry we're late. Someone didn't want to wake up."

Nora still looks sleepy but Alex had dressed her impeccably, her little dress pressed and spotless, her long dark hair plaited intricately down her back. Laura stares at her like one might a

particularly delicate china doll. "Oh good lord," she breathes. "She is absolutely enchanting, Alex. Just gorgeous."

Alex smiles widely, every inch the proud mother, and settles Nora on her feet, bending to her level. "This is our little Lenora. Nora, this is Auntie Lor. Can you say hello?"

Laura crouches in front of her as well, beaming. "Hello there. I'm your daddy's sister."

Eyeing her distrustfully, Nora mumbles, "'Lo."

Cooing in adoration, Laura fiddles with Nora's braid. "You are just the loveliest thing I've ever seen. Oh, look at you!"

"What do you say?" Alex nudges her gently.

Nora flushes. "Thank you?"

Alex laughs softly. "Very good."

Making a little wailing noise into her hand, Laura looks at James over her shoulder and the young man pales considerably under her gaze. "James, I want one."

Gasping, Alex lays a hand on her arm. "Oh, you would be such a lovely mother, Laura. And your children would be beautiful, can you imagine?"

The two launch into a gleeful discussion of gender, names, and the possibility of Laura and James moving a little closer to Matt and Alex so their children can play together. James turns to look at Matt with undisguised panic, apparently under the impression that he and his brother-in-law share some sort of camaraderie. Matt shrugs unhelpfully and reaches for his wine.

James continues to stare at him, paler by the second.

The thought of the man being ill at the table finally sways Matt and he sighs. "Pet, dinner is

getting cold."

"Right, of course." Alex helps Nora into her chair and Laura returns to her place next to James, dropping her napkin back onto her lap.

The moment Alex slips into her seat next to him, Matt feels his jaw slowly starting to unclench. It's a little worrying at times how her absence sets him on edge, and how quickly her presence calms him. He would never tell her, but he suspects she knows anyway. As Laura and James begin to gently interrogate Nora on her favorite color, whether she likes to ride horses, and whether Matt ever actually smiles, he begins to cut into his chicken with a muttered, "Where have you been?"

Alex presses a hand to his thigh under the table. "I dressed early so I could help Nora dress as well. She doesn't like Iris to do it." She squeezes his thigh gently. "Sorry, darling."

He harrumphs, knowing he'll just have to get used to the change in their routine. That's what children do, he realizes. Disrupt routines. He glances at Nora, poking at her chicken and shyly answering the questions her aunt and uncle direct at her, and thinks that it's rather worth it to have her. Linking his hand with his wife's beneath the table, he says, "You'll make it up to me."

Alex winks.

After Laura and James leave them with promises to visit and send Nora numerous pretty baubles, Matt cannot shake the unease in his heart. He spends hours a day for a week pacing the length of his study, listening to the sounds of Alex and Nora playing in the garden outside his window and wondering why he feels as though his world – their world – is no longer safe.

When he married Alex, he had the same feeling. Like the most precious thing in his world was at risk. His choice of career means the majority of people within a hundred mile radius hate him but before Alex, he had nothing anyone could use to hurt him. He fell in love with her the moment he saw her, standing in the doorway of her parents parlour, the skirt of her dress caked in mud, and he's had one beautiful weakness ever since. It was exploited once and only once, when she wandered too far out on the moors by herself. Matt had made an example of the man and nothing has happened since. He's done everything to keep her safe, making sure she always has someone to look after her when she ventures outside, arming her with a dagger and teaching her how to use it.

He stops pacing and goes to the window, peering around the drapes. Alex has Nora by the hand, guiding her to touch the petals of a delicate lily. Nora beams up at her and mouths something that looks suspiciously like for daddy? Alex nods, laughing, and his mind drifts to the drawer full of flowers all in varying degrees of decay locked away in his desk. Nora brings him one nearly every day and he can't bring himself to throw any of them away.

His latest weakness has taken the form of a helpless little girl. She is a brand new chink in his armor, one that some miserable, petty bastard will no doubt try very hard to exploit. Matt presses his hand to the window and watches his daughter carefully tuck her flower away into the pocket of her dress. It's Alex who catches his eyes, glancing up and finding him at the window watching them. Her brow furrows and he knows she's been fretting over him for the past several days. He can't bring himself to tell her he's worried about Nora. He's sure she already knows.

Managing a thin smile, he releases the drapes and steps away from the window, turning back to his study. They need someone with them at all times and he knows Benson can't be that man, nor any of the older boys in his employ – they have other duties to attend to. Parker is still too young. Matt does his best to be that person but he can't always be near them. There is only one course of action left.

One of his more trustworthy contacts procures the animal for him within another week and brings it to town. Matt meets him there to survey the brute before taking it home. If Nora spots it, she'll refuse to give it up even if it looks like a pathetic excuse for a pup. He needs a forbidding watchdog – something that will strike fear into hearts on sight. The animal that greets him in the town square certainly fits the bill but as Matt inspects the dog carefully, he worries Nora might be too frightened of him.

Crouched in front of him, Matt studies the coarse gray coat, long, gangly legs and gentle brown eyes with skepticism. "How is he with children?"

His contact shrugs. "Never been around them, Sir. But he's a gentle soul until provoked."

"Fully grown?"

"Two years old, Sir."

"Must have a name, then," Matt observes, glancing up with a raised brow.

"My apologies. Alastor, Sir."

After spending another several minutes scrutinizing the dog, Matt pays his contact and leads the dog to his carriage. Those in his path scurry out of the way, and though he can't be sure it isn't just him they're avoiding, he imagines the giant beside him is a helpful deterrent. His contact had been correct, however. The dog seems almost mild-mannered, resting his head on Matt's lap for the duration of the ride.

"Nothing but a great puppy, aren't you?" He sighs, watching the dog blink up at him. "Let's hope your size will be enough of a warning."

He'd been concerned Nora might be too frightened of him due to Alastor's size but the moment he returns home and the dog jumps out of the carriage after him, Nora falls in love. Jumping up and down, clapping her hands, she stands in the doorway of the manor with Alex, eyes wide with delight. "A puppy!" She tugs on her mother's skirts. "Mine?"

Alex shrugs, lips pursed as Matt strolls toward them, the dog trotting at his side. "Ask your father."

Approaching with soft, careful steps, Nora eyes the dog warily, reaching out a small hand toward his nose. Alastor sniffs her fingers and then licks them, making Nora wrinkle her nose and giggle. "Mine, Daddy?"

Matt strokes a finger over her brow and nods. "Yours."

She squeals, throwing her arms around Alastor's neck. Matt watches in amusement as Alastor sits and allows himself to be nearly strangled to death by a toddler, calmly taking the abuse. "Not exactly formidable, is he?" He glances at his wife, noticing for the first time how displeased she looks. "What's the matter?"

Alex takes his hand, tugging him a few steps from their daughter and her new best friend before hissing, "He's taller than Nora! She has to reach up to pet him! What on earth were you thinking, darling?"

He turns back to look at them with a frown. "But she loves him."

Sighing, Alex squeezes his fingers gently. "Of course she does. He's a gift from you. But why would you get a dog like that – what is it, anyway?"

"Irish Wolfhound," he supplies.

"Why would you buy such a massive dog for your toddler? If you were so determined to get her a pet, why not a kitten or a lap dog -" Alex stops suddenly, falling silent and staring at him with a look of dawning comprehension. "Because he isn't for her entertainment, is he? He's for her protection."

"Alex -" She sets her jaw, shaking her head, and his throat tightens as he realizes she is truly angry with him. "Pet," he tries again.

"You never said a word. You never say anything. You just buy gifts like knives and bloody great dogs, and expect me not to be terrified -"

"I'm trying to protect you!" He pulls her into him, hands gripping her waist. Alex gazes up at him, her green eyes tear filled and angry. "I'm not going to let anything happen to either of you -"

"You think I'm afraid for us?" She shakes her head, pushing at his chest. "You would rather die than let anything happen to me or Nora. I know that. And I will certainly die before anyone ever lays a hand on her. But people hate you enough to be provoked into such violence." She lifts a hand to his cheek, biting her lip. "I'm scared for you."

"Don't be. I've been looking after myself for a long time." He takes her hand from his cheek and kisses her knuckles. "But I promised you when we decided we wanted to keep Nora with us, that I would do everything in my power to make sure she remained unharmed. That is what I'm doing now, understand?"

"But darling, he's massive." She glances over her shoulder at Nora tugging on Alastor's tail and calls out, "Be gentle, Nora. Gentle with the puppy!" She turns back to Matt, frowning, and he rather loves how vehement she looks as she says, "He could eat her."

"Don't be ridiculous. She's much too small – she'd be a mere snack."

Alex frowns at him.

Lips twitching, he leans in and brushes his mouth against hers, delighting in the way she presses against his chest and returns the kiss with ease, as if she'd never been angry at all. He threads a hand through her hair, cradling her to him as he murmurs, "Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it."

"What?"

"My job." He swallows, winding a curl around his finger. "I could stop, you know. Do something respectable."

"What? Like banking?" She snorts, fingers gripping the lapels of his coat. "You would be miserable and you know it. Besides, it wouldn't help. The people angry enough and dense enough to come after you or your family are not rational beings. Just because you decide to pursue another path doesn't mean they will."

He frowns, strangely warmed by her logic. She always manages to make him see reason; he has no idea why he continues to hide things from her. He tries to shield her from the more unsavory parts of his career but he forgets sometimes just how strong she is. Nuzzling her hair, he sighs. "I could try being…nicer."

"No, you can't."

Insulted, he nips at her ear.

Alex gasps, giggling.

"I could be nice," he grumbles testily.

Pulling back, she kisses his cheek, trailing her mouth along his jaw just lightly enough to make him shudder. "Of course you can. You're utterly charming when you want to be. I meant you literally can't be nice." She straightens his cravat, humming in approval. "Your clients would walk all over you. They have to be afraid of you. It's part of what makes you so good at what you do." She furrows her brow, looking lovely and flushed as she leans in until the tip of her nose touches his, a grin threatening to overtake her whole face. "I shouldn't like it, you know."

Matt gathers her close once more, crushing her mouth to his in a brief, hard kiss. "But you do."

"So very much," she sighs, fingers coyly toying with the buttons of his coat. "Horrid man."

"Mummy! Daddy!" Nora calls out, giggling. "A pony!"

They turn as one to find that Nora has climbed onto poor Alastor's back, her arms around his neck to keep her balance as she makes him trot about like a horse. Alex sighs gustily, leaning back into Matt, and he wraps his arms around her waist, letting her curls tickle his cheek. "Well, I suppose we have to keep him now."

Relief floods him and he kisses the back of her head, whispering, "Thank you."

Watching Alex prepare for another visit from her parents is a bit like watching a chicken run about flapping its wings after its head has been cut off. Or perhaps more like one of his clients scrambling to come up with some sort of payment when he raps his cane against their door. Lurking in the doorway of the parlor while she inspects the mantle for dust and fluffs the cushions on the settee, he asks dryly, "Why do we bother paying the staff to clean if you're just going to go right behind them again?"

"Oh hush," she says, whirling to the mirror hanging over the mantle to inspect her hair. It's up today because apparently her mother and father count as polite company. He's been in a foul mood since he sat on their bed this morning and watched her at her vanity, pinning her wild hair into something resembling respectability. "You're just cross about my hair."

Startled, his frown deepens and he crosses his arms over his chest. "It doesn't suit you."

She smiles, waltzing up to him with swishing skirts and outstretched hands. "You're very rude," she says, straightening his waistcoat. "I don't know why I tolerate you."

"I make up for it," he says, sliding his hands up her back.

Grinning, she dances out of reach of his questing fingers. "Ah ah. Do not even think of touching these hair pins, darling. Not until tonight behind closed doors." She winks. "It'll be a reward for your good behavior."

He scowls, pushing away from the doorframe and stalking out of the parlor, hearing her follow after him, her silk slippers patting softly against the floor. "I'll fetch Nora from the stables. She needs to dress."

"Oh, give her another moment with Benson. My parents will be a while yet." Alex catches the back of his waistcoat in her hand and tugs him back to her, smiling triumphantly.

He could get away easily enough but he stays put because it seems to please her so. "Yes, dearest?"

"Thank you." She leans in and kisses his chin. "For housing my parents for the week. I know you're not fond of the idea."

He was less fond of the idea of going to visit them. In fact, he refused. And he forbid Alex from taking Nora and traveling there alone but thankfully she'd been so reluctant to leave him again that she hadn't put up much of a fight. She was absolutely insistent that they meet their grandchild before word reached them that Lord and Lady Smith had acquired a little girl, and Matt had been left with no choice but to tell her to write to them and ask them to stay.

He has no hopes of getting along with her parents but he can't bring himself to deny them visits to see their daughter and granddaughter either. So instead he'll hide in his study for most of their visit and manage to sit through their vapid conversations during meal times by taking a sip of wine every time he wants to snap at them.

"I'm fond of you," is all he says.

Alex smiles. "More than fond, I hope."

"On occasion," he admits, mouth twitching.

A knock on the door keeps her from replying and as Parker hurries to let Mr. and Mrs. Kingston in, Alex slaps a hand over her mouth. "Heavens, I didn't even hear their carriage! They're early! Where is Nora? I haven't dressed her or -"

Matt tugs her hand from her mouth and kisses her silent. She sighs a little, swaying into him and

allowing him just a moment to make her forget about everything else. She tastes like the brandy he keeps in his study and it makes him smile against her mouth, knowing she's been sneaking some all morning because she's nervous. "My precious girl," he whispers, and she whimpers, pressing closer, her fingers curled tightly into his collar.

"Erm, Master? Mistress?"

Alex leaps from him at the sound of Parker's voice, blushing furiously when she realizes her parents are standing behind him. "Mother, Father," she says, wiping delicately at her mouth while Matt smirks at the floor. "Your timing continues to be impeccable."

"Mr. and Mrs. Kingston," Matt utters silkily, inclining his head.

Mrs. Kingston, as usual, eyes him frostily. "Would you like us to leave and come back at another time?"

"Of course not. Don't be silly." Alex smoothes her hands over her dress and manages a bright smile but Matt relishes the faint flush of her cheeks and the glittering of her eyes that tells him just what sort of effect he has on her. "How was your journey?"

"Oh, enough small talk," Mr. Kingston says with gruff impatience. "Where is my new grandchild?"

Alex laughs. "I thought you would be a few hours still so I'm afraid she isn't quite ready for polite company -"

Before she can explain further, the front door opens again and they listen to the sound of Nora shrieking with laughter and the soft padding of Alastor's paws on the wooden floorboards. The two of them charge into the room like a jockey on a horse, Nora wild haired and dirt streaked, reeking of horse. "Giddyup, horsey!" She shouts, long hair bouncing behind her as Alastor, the dutiful hound, gallops around the room. "Faster!"

Alex slips a hand over her eyes and bows her head, clearly caught between amusement and horror. Matt doesn't have such a difficult time deciding, watching Mr. and Mrs. Kingston gape at their grandchild with a wicked, barely stifled smirk.

When Alastor makes his round about the room and passes Matt, he bends quickly to scoop Nora

from his back, settling her on his hip. She clings to his neck, patting his cheek with a small hand. "Nora, these are your grandparents. Say hello."

She turns, noticing the strangers in the room for the first time, and instantly transforms into the shy little darling that had so charmed Laura and James. "Hi," she waves, and then blushes and turns her face into his neck.

Matt can see the exact moment Mr. and Mrs. Kingston melt into a little puddle of affection but with her head still bowed in mortification, Alex misses it. "She's been outside with the stable hand," she explains meekly. "I'll just take her upstairs. She'll be perfectly presentable by dinner, I promise -"

"Don't be daft, sweetheart," her mother says, stepping forward with her arms outstretched and her smile wide. "Look at her, she's perfect. Oh come here, little one. Let your grandmother have a look at you."

Mr. Kingston swats her away. "Come to your grandfather, my dear. I've got sweets in my pocket."

Nora slowly turns to study him carefully and he winks at her, reaching behind her ear and pulling out a sweet. Nora's eyes widen in fascination and when Anthony holds out his arms, she goes to him without a fuss. As her parents walk to the settee and begin to coo over Nora, Alex slips up to his side and threads her arm through his, a relieved smile on her face. "She smells of horse and came in riding a hound. I don't believe she could have made a worst first impression if she tried."

Matt lifts an eyebrow. "Takes after her father."

Swatting at his arm, Alex tugs him away with her and they leave the Kingstons to fawn over their grandchild, retreating to his study for brandy and a locked door.

Alex watches him almost sullenly, lips pursed and eyes tight with displeasure. In her arms and clinging to her neck, Nora pouts at him, jaw set firmly. For not being related in the slightest, they have never looked more like mother and daughter than they do right now, standing outside the manor with Matt as Benson prepares the horses for their carriage.

"Such glum faces." He huffs a soft laugh, cupping their cheeks in his gloved hands. "You act as if I've never gone into town for the day before."

Alex bristles, nuzzling into the supple leather of his glove. "That doesn't mean we have to like it when you leave."

Stroking a thumb over her cheek, he sighs. "You know I hate going. But debts have to be collected."

Biting her lip, she nods, reaching up to take his hand. "Just be careful, darling. And don't provoke unnecessarily."

He smirks. "That's what the stick is for."

She rolls her eyes.

Nora shakes a stern finger at him. "Be nice."

He captures her little wrist and presses a kiss to her finger with a wink. "I'll do my best, poppet." Behind them, Benson climbs onto the carriage bench, taking up the reins. Matt turns to Alex, reluctant to go just yet. "Are you sure you'll be alright? I can leave Benson here with you."

She shakes her head firmly. "I want you to have someone with you when you're collecting your debts. I've seen how violent people can get." Cuddling Nora closer and kissing her forehead, Alex smiles. "We'll be fine here. Alastor will look after us."

Matt drops his eyes to the hound standing dutifully at their side, clearly taking his guarding duties seriously. "He'd better."

Alex's smile widens at the warning in his voice. "Go on, then. The sooner you leave the sooner you come home."

Matt leans in and kisses Nora's forehead. "Behave for your mother."

She nods solemnly. "Behave for Benson."

He sighs, lips curling into a smile. "It's Benson who must behave for me, poppet." He turns his head to say goodbye to Alex but she doesn't give him a chance, leaning up on her toes and kissing him softly. He wraps her in his arms, cradling her face in his leather-gloved hands and returning her kiss greedily, stealing her breath and relishing her flushed cheeks when he pulls away. "I'll be back before dinner."

She nods, releasing him from her arms reluctantly and holding Nora close. "Be safe, my love."

He turns quickly from the sight of his girls and climbs into the carriage without looking back, knowing that if he does, he won't leave today. Collecting payment from his clients used to be his favorite part of his job. It meant an outlet for all the violent energy he kept pent up, it meant venturing into town and being around people because as much as he hated them and they hated him, it was still sometimes a preferable alternative to being alone. Now, however, what he leaves behind is so much better than any debt being repaid or any heads he might bash with his walking stick to get what he wants. What he leaves behind is far more precious than he ever thought he would have or deserve.

The trip into town passes quickly and Matt spends the journey staring out the window in silence, hand curled around his walking stick and his mind uneasy. They'll be fine, of course. A houseful of orphans isn't quite a deterrent for most but recently, he's taken a few teenage boys into his employ and they'll look after Alex and Nora. Alastor hasn't yet proven to be a formidable guard dog but his size would be enough to scare most anyone away. They'll be fine.

The first home he visits is that of Mr. John Perri, a local businessman who wasn't quite managing to make ends meet. So he came to Matt, begging for help. He's had three months to get back on his feet again and come up with a way to return what Matt loaned him, but Matt has yet to hear a word from him about repayment.

With Benson standing menacingly behind him, Matt lifts his cane and taps against the door. The drapes at one window part, a head peeks through and then quickly disappears. He listens with bored impatience to the usual hushed panic his visits cause, the sound of crashes and hissing voices until finally, a harried looking, petite brunette answers the door, peering around the frame cautiously.

"Mrs. Perri," Matt guesses, not bothering to remove his hat.

The woman nods warily. "May I help you, Lord Smith?"

He sighs. "I'm here to see your husband. He and I have a bit of business to attend to."

Mrs. Perri swallows uneasily, eyes darting between Matt and the hulking form of Benson behind him. "H-he isn't home, Sir. I'm afraid you'll have to come back later."

Humming thoughtfully, Matt listens to the sound of a window being forced open inside the house, and the clumsy bumbling of the fool trying to climb through it to get away. "Are you quite certain?"

Mrs. Perri pales but nods, trembling.

Tutting with disappointment, Matt flicks a hand over his shoulder.

Benson leaves him at once, slipping into the alley behind the townhouse. Mrs. Perri watches him go with a quiet whimper, wide eyes fastening on Matt. He raises a brow at her, smirking. "I hope you don't mind if I wait here. I believe he'll be home soon."

She sags against the doorframe, defeated.

After another moment, Benson rounds the corner again, hauling a struggling Mr. Perri by the collar of his shirt. He presents the man to Matt without a word, holding him in place so his employer can do what he will. Matt nods his thanks and eyes Mr. Perri disdainfully. "Having your wife lie for you?" He circles the man with contempt. "And I thought you couldn't possibly get any lower than the disgusting rat you already are, Perri."

Slumped in Benson's grip now, the profusely sweating Mr. Perri attempts a feeble glare. "You didn't give me much choice, showing up without warning like that. I don't have what you're looking for."

"You mean my money?" Matt prods almost gently at the man's ribs with the end of his walking stick. "Because that's what I'm looking for, Perri. The money I loaned you, like the charitable sort I am. We agreed upon three months before repayment, did we not, Perri?"

He nods grudgingly.

"And has it not been three months, my dear Perri?" He prods a little harder at his ribs, making the man flinch. "Have I not been unfailingly generous with you and your pathetic business?"

"Yes, of course you have, Lord Smith." Mr. Perri swallows thickly, trying and failing to flinch away from Matt's walking stick. "But you see, I owed more debts than just you and well, they've already collected their payments -"

Matt stops playing about and lands a blow against the man's ribs hard enough to hear bones crack. As Perri cries out and his wife wails in the doorway, Matt leans in close and hisses, "Are you trying to tell me you paid others before you paid me, Perri? You paid everyone you owed a bit of money and now you've got nothing left for me, is that it?"

Perri nods shakily, still wincing. "I'm sorry. Please, just give me another three months and I'll -"

Matt hits him again and he wheezes. "I don't make deals with liars, Perri. Do you know what I do with people who lie to me?" He raises his stick again, aiming for his face, and right on schedule, his wife screams and throws herself between them, clinging to her husband. Matt pauses, stick still in the air, and lifts a thin brow at her.

"Please," she babbles, sobbing at him and clearly quite close to getting on her knees. "Please just stop and I'll give you anything you want."

"Do you have money?"

She shakes her head.

"Then I fail to see how you can be of any use to me."

"I have jewelry," she says quickly, fumbling for her bracelet. She nearly flings it at him and then starts on her earrings. "I have lots of jewelry. You can have everything, just leave my husband be."

Matt inspects the diamond bracelet carefully to make sure it is in fact, of any value and not just a cheap trinket from a street market. It looks genuine, so he nods once and drops his cane. "Very well."

Husband and wife give a collective sigh of relief.

The rest of his house calls go much the same way, with varying degrees of violence and threats. He pockets his money or the expensive trinkets he confiscates on the occasions when he finds his clients really don't have the money to repay him, and goes on to the next unfortunate soul who owes him a debt. By late afternoon, his official business is concluded and he sends Benson back to the carriage, promising to be along shortly.

He takes the jewelry and other valuables to a dealer who pays him handsomely in exchange for the merchandise but he doesn't linger long to spend it, eager to get back home in time for dinner, as he'd promised. He stops briefly to pick up a music box for Nora and a hat Alex had admired the last time she'd accompanied him to town, but then quickly makes his way back to the carriage, where Benson waits to drive him home.

The journey back seems to take even longer than the trip into town this morning and Matt sits anxiously in the carriage as it rattles along, determined not to fidget. He's sure they're perfectly fine, probably playing in the garden or frolicking about on the moors with Alastor and Parker trotting along behind them. He has left Alex alone many times before and nothing has ever happened. In fact, he left her alone with Nora once before for three days while he visited clients several towns away. They were safe and sound when he finally made it back. But then, no one knew of Nora. Things are different now and he can't help the unease in his gut.

When they finally arrive, he leaves Benson to put away the horses and starts through the fog toward the manor, standing silent and grim in the distance. Alex and Nora are not outside and in fact, he can hear nothing but the sound of Alastor barking. Dread fills him and he quickens his stride, his heart picking up a rapid pace.

"They're fine," he mutters under his breath. He'll feel very paranoid and silly when he walks into the house and finds Alex writing letters to her family and Nora riding Alastor around like a pony again.

The front door opens with a creak when he pushes it and he steps into the house holding his breath. Somewhere in the direction of the parlour, Alastor is still barking like a mad thing. His heart leaps into his throat. Dropping Alex's hatbox by the door, Matt starts in the direction of the noise, calling out, "Alex?"

"In here, darling."

Relief floods him at the sound of her voice and he lengthens his stride, eager to see her safe and unharmed for himself. "What is all the noi -" He stops, frozen in the doorway, and takes in the sight before him. In the center of the room is a man he vaguely recognizes as a former client – Matt had taken his prized horses as payment just three weeks ago. A long, bloody gash across his face, he sits in an armchair now and does not move, bound and gagged, looking up at Matt with wide, terrified eyes.

Stunned, he turns his gaze to the teenage boy standing guard on one side of the chair and Alastor on the other, barking and growling in the man's face. "Alastor, enough," Matt snaps, and the dog falls quiet instantly, settling onto the floor with a huff.

He finally turns to look for Alex in the room and finds her huddled on the settee, clutching the dagger he'd given her in one hand and holding Nora on her lap with the other. Matt scans the girl quickly, sees that she's perfectly unharmed and munching on a biscuit, and lifts his gaze to Alex. She's completely composed, as calm as if she didn't have a man tied to a chair before her and a bloody dagger in hand.

"What the bloody hell happened here?" He bites out, confused and not liking it one bit. Alex keeps her eyes fastened on the man in the chair, unblinking. Frustrated, Matt whirls on the teenage boy and snaps, "Disher?"

"The ladies were in the garden, Sir. This one came up behind them and tried to attack Lady Smith. Erm, the smaller Lady Smith." Disher elbows the man in the chair in the back of the head, making him flinch. "But the erm, elder Lady Smith came at him with the dagger and Alastor barked enough to rouse the whole house. We found him chewing on his leg when we got outside."

Matt drops his eyes to the man's ankles, pleased to find them bloody and his trouser hems torn. "Good."

Disher nods. "We – I mean, me and a few other lads – took him into the house and Lady Smith ordered us to tie him up until you arrived."

Glowering at the man now completely at his mercy, Matt bares his teeth. "You did well, Disher. Thank you." Disher ducks his head in deference and Matt turns his attention once more to his wife, who still hasn't said a word. "Are you quite alright, pet? You can drop the dagger now. I don't believe he's going anywhere." He eyes the man again with contempt. "Ever again."

The man whimpers behind his gag.

Alex nods slowly. "I'm fine. Really."

She still doesn't drop the dagger or look at him.

He crosses the room slowly, eyes fixed on her. "Pet?" He ventures cautiously. Alex refuses to look at him, her face turned away and her eyes fixed on the floor. He crouches in front of her, squeezing Nora's knee briefly before prying the dagger from Alex's grip and tossing it away. Taking her hands in his, he laces their fingers together and says, "Alex, look at me."

She shakes her head stubbornly. "I need you to promise you won't be too angry."

Slowly feeling his heart climb back into his throat and lodge there, Matt tightens his grip on her hands and manages to say softly, "I will do no such thing. Look at me."

Alex draws in a shaky breath and finally tilts her face toward him and into the light. The moment he spots the livid bruise blossoming purple on her cheek, he sees nothing else. There's a faint roaring in his ears and his head begins to pound, aching with the sudden strain of clenching of his teeth.

"Darling, don't. He isn't worth it." Alex places a hand to his cheek, her voice urgent. "Matt, look at me. Don't -"

A red haze colors everything and he wrenches away from her touch to stand, whirling to the man bound in the chair. He can't even remember his name, just a faceless peasant who thought he could harm the ones Matt held dear as his petty retribution for a few horses. He is nothing now. He isn't even human, only a detestable insect Matt wants nothing more than to squash beneath his boot.

He's across the room before he even makes the conscious decision to take that first step and he barely hears Alex calling his name as he picks up his walking stick where he'd dropped it on the floor and raises it above his head, swinging with all his might. The man in the chair doesn't make a sound as the handle connects with his skull with a sickening crack. He doesn't even whimper, slumping like a rag doll.

Chest heaving in anger, Matt drops the walking stick again and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex cradling Nora to her chest, turning the child's head away. "Disher."

The young man steps forward, checking the loathsome creature's pulse. "Alive, Sir."

Good. He isn't nearly finished with him yet.

"Watch him."

Disher nods. "Yes, Sir."

"Feel better then?" Alex eyes him with disapproval.

"He had no right to even breathe the same air you do," he snaps. "Let alone touch you."

"I'm fine," she scowls. "But I won't be if you're dragged away on murder charges for a pathetic excuse for a life like his!"

He ignores her. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Not a scratch," she promises softly.

He lifts Nora from her arms to hold her close, burying his face in her dark hair. "You're alright too?"

She nods, chocolate smeared across her mouth, and pokes at him. "Got angry," she whispers.

"Yes," he answers honestly, then hesitates. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

Nora shakes her head and kisses his cheek. "Mummy's scarier."

Stifling an exasperated sigh, Matt presses his lips to her forehead. "It's time for bed, poppet."

"'lastor?" She pouts up at him and he caves instantly.

"Alright, but only for tonight. He belongs in the barn, not on the floor of your room." Matt snaps his fingers and Alastor rises from the floor, ambling to his side. "Find Iris and tell her to tuck you in. I'm going to look after Mummy, understand?"

"Don't be silly, Matthew." Alex stands slowly, looking weary. "I can put her to bed."

He frowns at her worriedly. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine." She lifts Nora into her arms, offering him a tired smile. "If you hadn't noticed, I'm not the one bleeding all over our Persian rug."

He nods, sliding a hand over her cheek tenderly, and Alex tilts her face into his palm, eyes slipping shut. "You were magnificent," he breathes, pride swelling warmly in his chest. "Absolutely formidable."

Her smile turns genuine now, bright and entirely pleased. "I was hoping you'd think so."

"I always think so," he confides softly, just loud enough for her alone to hear. She steps closer, pressed right against him, and he allows himself a moment to gather her into his arms and hold her as tight as he dares, the scent of lavender and silk enveloping him like the comforts of home.

She threads her fingers through his hair and presses her lips just below his ear, whispering, "Don't lose your temper, darling. He isn't worth it."

Instead of answering, he presses a firm, grateful kiss to her temple. "I'll be up soon."

Resigned, she strokes his hair one last time and sweeps from the room, Alastor following closely at her heels. Matt watches them disappear and listens to Alex's quiet footsteps on the stairs before he turns back to Disher. "You're dismissed."

Disher hesitates.

Matt sighs. "I'll be fine, son. Go."

Once the lad heads up the servants' staircase to his own room, Matt perches on the edge of the table in front of his former client. Shedding his jacket, he rolls up his shirtsleeves and picks up his cane once more, settling in to wait for his prey to wake up.

Before he turns in for the night, he peeks into Nora's room to make sure she's sleeping and finds her warm and safe beneath her blankets, Alastor curled up at the foot of her bed. He shakes his head fondly at the pair of them and sets the music box on her bedside table for her to find when she wakes. With a stroke of his hand over her forehead, he leaves her once more to peaceful dreams.

Their bedchamber is dark when he opens the door and he assumes Alex is already sleeping. He undresses quietly, navigating their room without a light and slipping into bed beside her. He lays there for a moment contemplating whether or not he wants to risk waking her by pulling her into his arms, and she asks into the darkness, "Did you kill him?"

He sighs. "No."

Alex lifts herself up onto her elbows, peering at him. "Why not?"

"Because you didn't wish it." He lifts a hand to the cheek he knows sports an unfortunate bruise and strokes his fingers reverently over it. "And he'll serve a better warning if he lives long enough to wander into town and show everyone the damage inflicted on him."

"Thank you." She nuzzles into his hand, her curls slipping around his fingers, and he feels her smile against his palm. "The last thing I want is to watch you be carried away to prison." She laughs softly. "My parents always say that's where you'll end up and I know how much you hate proving them right."

He pulls his hand away from her face, shaking his head. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Make light of it." He turns onto his back and scowls up at the ceiling. "He attacked you, love. He attacked you and when he finished with you, he would have taken Nora." He swallows thickly, allowing Alex to curl into his side, fisting his nightshirt in her hands. "What would I have done if I'd come home to find both of you gone?"

"That isn't ever going to happen, darling." She rests her chin on his chest and though he can't see her in the darkness, he has no doubt she's staring up at his face with that unfailing earnestness. "You protected us well. More than that, you gave us what we needed to protect ourselves. We're fine. We're more than fine."

"This time."

"Every time. We can handle a few ill-bred cretins."

"I have no doubt you can handle anything, pet."

She huffs. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Agreeing with me."

He snorts. "I just can't make you happy, can I?"

Alex sighs, stroking a hand up and down his arm. "It's not your fault, Matthew."

"Isn't it?"

"No. It's the fault of the man who came to you seeking help, agreed to your terms, and then got angry when he found they didn't suit him after all." Alex slips a leg between his and rubs a soothing hand over his chest. "What matters is that we're prepared when these things happen. We've taken every precaution short of never leaving the house again, which I refuse to do."

"Have you always been so irritatingly practical?" He grumbles.

She smiles and he can see its brilliance even in the dark. "It's my specialty."

"Among other things." Pulling her closer, he sweeps his hands over her frame carefully, checking for injury and ignoring Alex when she squirms. "Hold still, damn you."

"What are you doing, Matthew?" She sounds endlessly amused and it makes him frown. "I told you, I'm perfectly alright. Stop fussing -" She stops, freezing in his arms for a long moment as he frantically searches her body for so much as scratch. She could have missed something. With the adrenaline rush, she might not even feel it yet… "Darling, are you alright? You're trembling."

"I'm fine," he replies shortly, but she sees right through him. "I'm hardly the one who needs looking after right now."

"Oh darling, come here." She sits up in bed and pulls him close, enveloping him in the warm safety of her arms. Despite his earlier protests, Matt crumbles at her careful touch, burying his face in her neck with a shudder. Alex clings to him all the tighter for it, pressing fervent kisses to the top of his head. "We're safe," she whispers. "It's over. We're here and we're safe. You protected us, my love."

He clutches her nightdress in shaking hands and she whispers reassurances into his ear, holding him until he believes her.

a more promising beginning

Chapter Summary

His money will not buy her better memories. No amount of his adoration and devotion will satisfy this particular need.

Chapter Notes

Story title from A Myth of Devotion by Louise Gluck.

Summer on the moors is not so different from winter. It is still gray, foggy, and damp, but when it isn't raining there is just enough warmth in the air to allow for afternoon strolls with his wife. He leads her along in companionable silence, face tilted into the damp air and Alex's arm tucked snugly through his own. The weather is pleasant enough this afternoon for her to leave her cloak at the manor and he rather loves that such a simple thing has put a skip in her step.

"There's something to be said for the moors in the middle of summer." She breathes in deeply, her eyes bright and her smile content. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Stifling a bout of laughter, Matt eyes her with fondness. When she first married him, Alex hated everything about the place he'd taken her to live – the house, the gloomy weather, the isolated moors, even the man she must be forced to live with. He never would have imagined she would grow to love each and every one, least of all him. He had hoped, but never truly believed it possible.

"Beautiful," he replies, still gazing at her.

"Incorrigible," she murmurs, looking flushed but pleased. "Now, what did that letter from your sister say?"

He frowns. "How did you -"

Her lips curl into a secretive smile. "I know everything."

He eyes her disbelievingly.

She blinks up at him, innocent and wide-eyed. "I do hope they're having agreeable weather for their honeymoon."

"Shouldn't you know that already?" He grumbles. "You know everything, after all."

"Oh hush and tell me what she says." Alex stifles a smile, resting her head on his shoulder. He retrieves the letter from the pocket of his greatcoat and hands it to her. Waiting patiently for her to peruse the letter, he guides her gently through the long grass and heather, toward the rowan tree she loves admiring, making sure she doesn't trip in her total disregard for her surroundings. Finally, she folds the letter and tucks it back into its envelope with a mournful sigh.

He lifts a brow. "What? I don't remember anything troubling in the letter. Well, aside from my sister's appalling inability to stay on topic."

"No, nothing like that." Alex leans into his side. "It's only that I'm a little jealous. I wish we'd gone away on honeymoon."

His mouth twitches at her forlorn expression. "To be fair, pet, we didn't have much of a wedding. I wasn't quite certain you wouldn't use a seaside honeymoon to push me in and have done with me."

Not nearly as amused by the notion as he is, she glances away, her brow pinched. "I don't regret marrying you, my love. Not for one moment. I love you and our life together more than I ever imagined I would." She sighs again, turning to face him and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "I only wish we had happier memories of our wedding day. I could barely look at you. I didn't even want you to touch me."

He gives the barest hint of a nod, his jaw tight with the memory.

"Imagine a bride flinching away from her groom when he leans in to kiss her." Alex huffs but her voice trembles, betraying her. "If I could live it all over again, I would hardly be able to stand the wait until the priest asked us to seal our union with a kiss." She smiles sadly. "I wish, for both our sakes, that our memories of that day were better ones."

They slow to a stop beneath Alex's tree, a few miles from the manor but still near enough to hear the rattle of a carriage should someone come to call. He draws her close beneath the shade the tree offers, not quite sure what to say as Alex crowds him and kisses his neck, quiet regret in every press of her lips. He smoothes a hand over her back and frowns into her hair, sighing. "I can't change it."

"I know."

"You would never have consented to marry me if I'd asked nicely," he reasons. "You hated me."

"I hated you because you took me away from my family, darling." Alex lifts her head, green eyes glittering as she looks up at him. "I hated your actions. Not you."

"A man is the sum of his actions, pet." He frowns, tucking her hair behind her ear when the wind whips around them and sends her curls tumbling into her eyes. "And mine would never have been good enough for you. Nor anyone."

She shakes her head, biting her lip. "You don't know that."

"No," he admits, for her sake.

Sometimes, he has wondered what it might have been like to court Alex properly but he knows that despite her insistence that she would love him any time, any place, anywhere, she would never have consented to having anything to do with him. His reputation precedes him. Her father would have refused to allow him to come to call. Her mother would hate him just as much as she does now. And Alex, without being forced to cohabitate with him and spend time in his company, would never see anything other than a frightful man with too much money and not enough heart. Even so, as he looks upon his wife now, he wishes he had tried. Anything is better than this.

He likes spoiling her. And he does – constantly. He gives her everything she could possibly desire. He gives her fine clothes and jewels, pretty trinkets to sit on her vanity or books to read, imported perfumes and the best saddles for her horses. If she asks for something, it is hers, though she rarely asks. She is content with only him and even now it humbles him into brooding silence. But this, this one thing she asks for, he cannot give her. His money will not buy her better memories. No amount of his adoration and devotion will satisfy this particular need.

Matt threads a hand through her curls and presses his forehead to hers as they stand beneath the

rowan tree, the high winds whipping around them. For the first time in years, he feels powerless.

After their walk, they return to the manor and Alex leaves him to change out of her gown and into trousers, mood a little lighter as she talks of helping Benson with the horses until dinner. Matt shuts himself away in his study and gets absolutely nothing accomplished, staring blankly at his records and documents, thinking of Alex.

She appears to be in better spirits by the time he meets her in their chambers to change for dinner but he can't shake their discussion earlier in the day. He helps her dress in silence, still thinking, and fails to press his usual line of kisses across her shoulders as he does up the buttons on her dress. Alex glances over her shoulder at him, brow furrowed. "Darling? Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine," he answers, and kisses the nape of her neck.

Not fooled for a moment, she turns to face him, reaching up to straighten his dinner cravat. "I shouldn't have said anything earlier. You've been brooding ever since."

"I don't brood."

It's an old, weak protest and they both know it.

Alex sighs, stroking her fingers along his jaw. "I was just having a moment, darling, that's all. Every single step we've taken together has led us right here. And I wouldn't change that for all the happy wedding days in the world. I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise." She frowns, looking adorably petulant. "I'm a rubbish wife."

"Well, I'm a terrible influence." He kisses her before she can protest.

Dinner is filled with her chatter. She tells him about the things Cerberus did, how Parker had nearly fallen off his horse during their ride this afternoon, all the funny things Benson had muttered under his breath when he caught her braiding the horses' manes again. Matt listens to every word but in the back of his mind, an idea is taking shape. It's been brewing all day and he has been resisting it every step of the way, hating just how vulnerable it will leave him.

He picks up his wine and gazes across the table at Alex, watching her gesture with her fork, a smile on her face. If there is anyone in the world he could possibly be vulnerable in front of, anyone he could humble himself before, it would be his wife.

After dinner, they retire to the library and Alex keeps stealing anxious glances at him, as if she knows that despite her apology, he is still thinking about what she'd said. She pushes him gently into his favorite leather armchair and kisses his cheek, her hand stroking his hair. "If you keep it up, your face will stick that way, you know."

He catches her hand, turning his head into her palm. "I'm fine," he promises, and manages a faint smile for her. "Go write to your mother. I'm sure she'll be pleased to know I haven't chained you up in a dungeon yet."

Alex sighs wistfully and winks at him. "Unfortunately. There's always tomorrow."

He kisses her knuckles and drops her hand, watching her retreat to the writing desk on the other side of the library. For an hour, he listens to the scratch of her quill against the paper, stealing glances at her from over the top of a book he isn't really reading. Iris brings her a cup of tea and sets it beside her elbow, and Matt feels his stomach twist into knots. Alex always has her tea just before bed. She claims it makes her sleep deep and full of pleasant dreams.

It's almost time and he hasn't the slightest idea what to say. He is not a man of many words and there are no flowery speeches on his tongue; his head is not full of sweet nothings to whisper to his bride. He is at a loss to convey just how much she means to him. What he loves most about Alex is that he never has to try. She always knows. She understands all the things he doesn't say. Tonight, however, the least he can do is to give voice to the profound feelings she always stirs within him at a mere glance or a brush of her hand.

The soft clatter of an empty teacup settling back onto its saucer finally rouses him from his thoughts and he glances up just in time to see Alex yawn. "Ready to retire, pet?"

"Yes, please." She smiles sleepily at him as he stands and crosses the room to fetch her. It's a smile full of such trust and adoration that it only steels his resolve. He owes this to her. Swallowing nervously, he takes her hand and pulls her up. She sways into him, the soft scent of her perfume enveloping his senses. "How was your book?"

He doesn't even know the title of what he'd been pretending to read. "Dull," he answers, and hopes it wasn't one of his favorites.

As they abandon the library and walk together to their chambers, Alex grins and presses her lips beneath his jaw. "Would you like me to liven things up for you?"

He smirks, opening their bedroom door and ushering her inside. "I thought you were tired."

"The one thing I am never too tired for, my love, is you." She turns her back to him as he shuts the door, glancing over her shoulder with a little smile. "Help me out of this dress?"

His hands shake as he works open her gown, undoing each little mother of pearl button, and not only from anxiety. It's been two years since he married this woman but he still can't help but tremble when he touches her and he wonders if she has any idea the affect she has on him. As her dress falls away, slipping to a puddle of silk on the floor, he starts unlacing her corset, dropping soft, open-mouthed kisses along the nape of her neck as his fingers work quickly.

Alex sighs quietly and he hears a faint tremor in the sound. He smiles against her skin, tugging a little more forcefully at the laces. Whatever power she has over him, it always warms his heart when she proves in her own little ways just how much power he has over her in turn.

The corset drops to the floor to join her dress but Matt grips her hip tightly, keeping her firmly in place as he trails his mouth over her shoulder and traces his fingers up the curve of her spine through her shift. Alex shudders, reaching behind to curl an arm around his neck, her fingers twisting in his hair. "I'm sorry," he finally says, his voice rough.

Still lost in him, she murmurs distractedly, "Sorry?"

He nods, clearing his throat. "I'm sorry our wedding wasn't what you deserve."

Instantly, Alex turns in his arms to face him. She shakes her head, frowning up at him as she grips the front of his waistcoat. "I shouldn't have said anything. I never meant to make you feel like this, darling. Please, just put it out of your mind."

"I can't." He threads a hand through her hair, cupping the back of her head as she gazes imploringly up at him. "Not without telling you that -" Pretty poetry doesn't make itself known on the tip of his tongue but he inhales quietly and forges ahead, hoping the simple truth will suffice. "You may not be able to remember our wedding day as a happy one, but when I look back on that day, all I remember is that you were stunning, even glaring at me over your bouquet."

Alex stares up at him, frozen and wide-eyed.

He smiles softly, stroking a thumb over her cheek. "I remember wanting to touch you more than I'd ever wanted anything. I remember my determination to keep you as safe and comfortable as I could manage. Even when you tried to run away that night, I was just glad to no longer be alone."

Alex turns her face into his hand and kisses his palm, nuzzling his fingers. "Darling -"

"You were a handful, pet." He smirks, watching her lips curl into a reluctant smile. "But I loved it. I loved you. And I ask that you remember that when you look back on that day. Remember that you were loved, even then."

Tears in her eyes and lips parted, Alex gazes at him in silence for a long moment, barely even breathing. He stares back in quiet apprehension, wondering if perhaps he should have just carried his wife off to bed without a word. There is a reason he says little – he feels so much for her that it would be impossible to properly convey it in speech. Finally, Alex draws in a sharp, trembling breath and puts him out of his misery, taking his face in her hands and drawing him down for a sweet, greedy kiss. She clings to his waistcoat, melting into his frame, head tilted up to seek his mouth as her eyes flutter shut.

Groaning, Matt slips a hand into her curls and opens his mouth eagerly against hers, tasting her evening tea on her tongue. His other hand fists into the thin material of her shift and Alex presses closer with an encouraging whimper. He slides a hand over her thigh, clawing at her shift and drawing it up her legs before he remembers the whole point of throwing himself prostrate at her feet. Breaking from her mouth with reluctance, Matt breathes harshly against her cheek, eyes growing unfocused as Alex latches onto his throat, nipping and sucking like a distracting little minx.

Settling his hands back on her hips, he pushes her just far enough away to think again without losing the sweet warmth of her body. Hair slipping into his eyes, he looks at her through his fringe, licking his lips. "I could make arrangements, you know. Laura would undoubtedly be happy to help you plan. Your family might even be persuaded to attend again -"

Alex stops him with a gentle hand over his mouth, looking at him in quiet awe. "You want to renew our vows?"

He swallows as she drops her hand, still gaping at him. "If you'll have me again."

"Oh, darling." She blinks away tears. "Again and again."

He fights a smile, drawing her close once more and kissing her forehead. "It's settled then." She nods with a grin, kissing his cheek soundly before pulling back and taking his hand. He watches with a frown as she begins to pull his wedding ring from his finger. "Pet, what are you doing?"

"Renewing our vows." She slips off her own ring and presses it into his hand, looking happier than he's seen her since she read Laura's letter this afternoon.

He stares at her. "I meant later."

She waves him away with a small hand, nearly bouncing on her toes as she peers up at him. "We don't need an audience. You're the only one who matters and since you're already here, we might as well do it now."

His mouth twitches. "As you wish."

Looking satisfied, Alex toys with his ring, peeking at him through her lashes. "Do you, Lord Smith, Caretaker of Orphans and Terror of Scoundrels Everywhere, take Lady Alexandra, Charmer of Difficult Men, Skilled Gardener, and Excellent Dancer, to be your lawfully wedded wife – again?"

He huffs out a quiet laugh, watching her fondly. "If I must."

She takes his hand, beaming as she slides the ring back onto his finger. "You must."

He wants to kiss her. Quite possibly even more than he did the first time, now that she isn't glaring daggers at him. In fact, she looks rather lovelier than she did on their wedding day, standing there in her bare feet and her shift, her hair wild around her shoulders.

She looks at him pointedly, eyebrow raised. "Darling," she whispers. "It's your turn."

"Right, of course." He clears his throat, attempting not to flush. "Do you, Lady Alexandra, take

Lord Smith -"

"Yes." She laughs brightly, refusing to let him finish in her eagerness. "I do. Now and forever, if you please."

Amusement warring with the increasing desire to forgo these bloody formalities and simply kiss her breathless, Matt slides her ring back onto her finger, lips brushing her knuckles. "May I kiss the bride now?"

She hums, swaying toward him. "You'd better."

If their last wedding kiss had been somewhat cold and hesitant, a chaste brush of mouths over with as quickly as possible, this one is the exact opposite. Their lips meet with desperate hunger and there is no desire to part now or ever. Hands roam with greedy intent and their soft moans will not be silenced. Lips linger, parting just long enough to breathe before colliding eagerly once more.

Matt scoops up his bride into his arms and starts for the bed. Giggling, Alex wraps her arms around his neck and stops kissing him just long enough to insist, "I expect a much better wedding night this time."

"Hardly my fault you escaped out a window," he grumbles. "Should I expect a repeat performance?"

She laughs as he deposits her onto the bed, scrambling backwards as he sheds his clothes and climbs in after her. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere, darling." She cups his face in her hands as he positions himself between her legs, fingers grasping the hem of her shift and pulling it up. She helps him to pull it over her head and he immediately drops his face into her neck, leaving rough, biting kisses down her perfumed throat. She sighs softly, threading her hands through his hair. "Oh. If only I had known what I was missing."

He smirks, trailing his mouth lightly and teasingly over her chest. His lips brush her nipples and Alex gasps, arching into his mouth with a wordless plea. She is gorgeous like this, laid bare before him and wanting nothing more than his touch. He grants it to her, cupping her breasts in his palms and devoting his attention first to one and then the other. Alex whimpers beneath him, shifting restlessly as he sucks and kneads, digging her heels into the mattress.

He nips at the side of her breast and begins again, reverently kissing his way down her stomach.

She sucks in a sharp breath, trembling all over. "Darling -"

"Shh," he murmurs, focused on the softness of her skin. "Consider it a wedding gift, pet."

"Oh, you know just what to get a girl," she sighs, draping her legs over his shoulders as he settles between her damp thighs. She drops a hand to his head, fingers carding gently through his hair as he begins kissing her inner thighs. Her scent surrounds him and the heat of her against his face is almost more than he can bear. He cannot tease her tonight, surging forward with his lips parted.

They both shudder as he strokes his tongue between her folds, overwhelmed by the sheer intimacy of such an act as this.

If he were a man who wrote sonnets, he could write hundreds of them about the wealth of soft, pink flesh between his wife's legs. The scent of her arousal makes his mouth water. He opens his mouth wide and wishes he could devour her completely, consuming her from the inside out and starting here, with this slick heat on his tongue.

He could be happy here for hours at a time, content with the ache in his jaw so long as Alex never wavered from her guttural moans and the eager rocking of her hips against every hot stroke. He slips his tongue past her entrance, listening to her cry out, and wonders if she would laugh if he told her she still feels like Alex even here. He has mapped her inside with the tip of his tongue over and over again on many sleepless nights and discovered that she tastes like Alex should – sweet and far, far too good for him – and feels like Alex should – warm and full of feminine curves. He could identify her from the taste and texture of her sex alone.

No longer content with just petting his hair now, she fists the strands in her white-knuckled fingers as her sighs grow high and breathy. He smirks against her folds, nudging into her hand and releasing a soft grunt of approval. She's close now.

He traces his tongue over the sensitive bundle of her clitoris, drawing it into his mouth and sucking lightly. Alex scrabbles at the sheets, nearly sobbing. "Darling, I – oh. Oh yes." As pleasure swallows her, her sex throbs under his tongue, undulating and producing more of her sweet arousal. He laps it up like a man dying of thirst, gripping her thighs and refusing to let her move an inch until he has had his fill.

She's quivering with renewed desire by the time he finally lifts his head, her arm thrown over her face and her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Mmm," she purrs, peeking out from beneath her forearm as he slides up the length of her body to join her. "What a blessed bride I am."

"Blushing bride," he counters, enjoying her soft snort as he settles between her legs.

"Not for years, thanks to you." She takes his face in her hands and kisses him softly, making a quiet noise of approval when she tastes herself on his lips. "You know, it's a shame a man cannot deflower his bride twice."

He shakes his head at her musings, dropping a lingering, tender kiss to her breast as he tilts his hips, pressing the head of his erection against the soft folds of her sex. "Would you like me to try, pet?"

Her lips curl into a rather sinful smile. "Please. Anything worth doing is worth doing twice, don't you think, my love?"

Instead of answering in words, he does so in action, surging forward and filling her in one slow thrust. Alex tosses her head back on her pillow, wayward curls everywhere as her eyes flutter. He grits his teeth and breathes in through his nose, struggling not to give in to animal abandon as the wet warmth of his wife surrounds him. He drops his head to her shoulder, trembling. "Alex," he breathes.

She strokes a patient hand over his back, fingertips dancing along his spine. "I'm here, darling. I'm right here." She turns her head, pressing her lips to his temple. "And I love you so very much."

Those words from her lips make him feel capable of nearly anything and he lifts himself up onto his elbows once more, rocking his hips in a shallow thrust that makes them both gasp. Alex clutches at his shoulders, drawing a shapely leg up and around his waist, all at once shifting closer and driving him deeper inside.

He bites back a curse, dark eyes intent on her face as he begins to move steadily within her. Alex gazes right back, little gasps of pleasure escaping her lips, and Matt loses himself in her eyes. The black of her pupils always nearly eclipses the stunning green when they're together like this and he remembers being utterly fascinated by it that very first night, months after their wedding when they finally consummated their marriage. It's been years since then and he marvels that he still has the same affect on her even now. He hopes it never fades. He hopes she never, ever grows tired of him touching her because he will surely never tire of being allowed to.

Back arched beneath him and fisting the sheets in her small hands, Alex looks positively wanton as she gasps and cries, breasts and curls bouncing with every twist of his hips. The sight of her in the throes of such ecstasy wrenches away the last of his control and he feels his imminent release crackling through his veins like wildfire in a dry summer.

Wrapping her curls around one fist, he slips his other hand between her legs and strokes his fingers over her clitoris, watching Alex cry out as her whole body jerks. "That's it, love," he whispers, moving slower now, holding back his own release to savor the sight of hers. "Just let it take you. I've got you."

Her toes curl in the sheets, her nails dig into his forearms and with one last slow thrust and a stroke of his fingers, his bride falls apart in his arms, trusting him to catch her. The wild clenching of her sex around him is more than enough to send his body into overdrive and he grits his teeth against a euphoric shout as he joins her, face buried in her neck and hips stuttering.

They hold each other until the tremors stop, breathing quietly into skin slicked with sweat. When he finally eases out of her and rolls over, Alex curls against his side, pillowing her head on his chest. "That was much better than last time," she sighs happily.

He suppresses a snort of laughter, dropping a kiss into unkempt curls. "You mean when you were lost on the moors and Benson had to come fetch you?"

She turns her head, kissing his chest. "Yes, that. Terrible mistake."

Sliding his hand over her back, he rumbles quietly, "Well, it isn't over yet, you know."

Her eyes light up. "Isn't it?"

Matt shakes his head, suppressing a smile. "Oh, no. Honeymoons can last for days. Perhaps even weeks."

Her eyes widen playfully and she slips her hand down his chest – down down – and between his legs. He breathes in sharply, jaw clenched. Alex smirks into his skin. "We should get married more often."

there i am a dark queen

Chapter Summary

Summary: She opens the door, peering out into the evening gloom and hoping to see her husband riding up the lane but the lane is empty. She can't even hear the sound of his horse in the distance. Leaning into the door and curling her fingers around the handle, Alex swallows the lump in her throat and breathes into the fog, "Where are you, darling?"

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone by Ron Koertge.

Watching Nora sit stiffly at the piano bench, back straight and dress perfectly pressed as she tinkers with the keys, is a bit like watching a wild, beautiful bird sit in a cage. Alex swallows back the guilt and drops her eyes to her sewing, listening as her daughter attempts to make it all the way through a simple French song without making any mistakes.

She makes it nearly to the end and her fingers slip.

Alex winces, lifting her head to find Nora slumped over the piano, elbow on the keys. "Almost," she encourages with a smile. "You almost made it, love. Try again."

Nora pouts, slouching a bit, and looks quite close to pitching a fit. At seven, she should be well past fits. She really isn't. Alex blames Matt and his endless spoiling. "Mummy, I'm tired," she complains. "Can't we take a break? Only a little one!"

Sighing, Alex nods. "Go to the kitchens and ask Hobbs for a biscuit." Nora is up and running before she even finishes her sentence but Alex calls after her, "Then I want you back in here until you get it right!"

Nora giggles as she runs away and Alex frowns down at her embroidery, wondering if she'll even see her daughter again for the rest of the day. Little imp.

"Nice afternoon?"

She jumps at the sound of Matt's voice right behind her, pressing a hand to her heart and turning to offer him a mild glare. He towers over her, gaze dark and mouth smirking. "Must you frighten me so? I swear you thrive on it."

He leans over the back of her chair, pressing a soft, apologetic kiss to her mouth. "Not at all," he sighs, and kisses her again, more lingering this time. "I thrive on other things."

She swallows back a smile, pushing him away. "Your daughter has made yet another grand escape."

"I can hardly blame her." He straightens, wandering to the mantel and looking into the mirror hanging over it, straightening his cravat. "You know she hates those lessons."

"Yes, and I hate them nearly as much as she does." Alex frowns, tucking away her embroidery in the basket beneath her chair. "But if I don't teach her these things, she'll never learn."

"And what an endless tragedy that would be," he counters dryly.

Alex huffs. "You may not care and I may not care but everyone else will and I won't have anyone thinking my daughter isn't good enough or somehow lacking because of it – as if she's some heathen we didn't bother to raise properly. I'll give them no reason to gossip. Nora will be just as accomplished as any other girl – no matter where she lives or who her parents are."

Matt turns from the mirror, looking absurdly handsome in his dark suit, his hair slipping into his eyes. Her heart flutters as his gaze land on her and she glances away, biting her lip. "You know," he says softly. "I rather love how worked up you get over this."

She lifts her chin, still not quite meeting his eyes. "I want her to have everything."

"She will." He strides across the room, stopping right in front of her, and lifts a hand to her cheek, thumb stroking lightly. "She already does."

Finally, Alex softens, turning her head to lean into his warm palm. Slowly lifting her eyes to meet

his amused gaze, she smiles. "You look very dashing. Where are you going?"

"Collection day," he says, and sighs when her face falls. "You should be used to it by now."

She nuzzles her cheek into his palm, wrapping a hand around his wrist to keep him close. "That hardly means I've grown to like it."

"I won't be gone long," he promises, and grasps her hand to pull her up from her chair. "Most everyone has paid me back on time. Only one or two people who need a little persuasion."

Swaying into him, Alex allows her husband to wrap a slender arm around her waist and tug her impossibly closer. She fiddles with his cravat, tilting her head to look up into his eyes. "You'll be back by dinner?"

"Before dinner." He threads a hand through her hair and presses his forehead to hers, smirking. "I promise."

"Sir?" They both turn to find Parker standing in the doorway, smiling boyishly at them. Though, Alex reminds herself, he's hardly a boy anymore. He's a young man now, taller than her and perfectly capable of looking after them all while Matt is away. "Your horse is ready."

Matt nods his thanks. "Good man."

Parker inclines his head and leaves them alone once more, still smiling.

"Are you leaving, Papa?" Nora strolls in from the other side of the room, still nibbling on a biscuit, a frown on her face when her father nods. "For how long?"

"Only a few hours." Matt lifts her into his arms, though she's growing a bit too big for it now. Nora hardly complains, just as mad for her father as she's always been as she wraps her arms around his neck and squeezes. "I want you to mind your mother while I'm gone, understand? Play the piano, practice your French, and anything else she asks of you."

Nora nods reluctantly. "I know. I will."

"Good." He kisses her temple and settles her back on her feet, turning once more to Alex. She steps into his arms instantly, leaning up on her toes as he bends his head and meets her halfway in a soft, lingering kiss. "I'll be back soon."

She nods, pressing another kiss to his jaw, breathing him in quietly, her eyes still shut. "Hurry home." She reluctantly steps out of his arms, slowly relinquishing the warmth of his hand. "Be safe, my love."

She doesn't step outside to watch him leave – it gets more difficult every time. Instead, she throws herself into the rest of her day with gusto. Worrying about Matt while he's gone is inevitable but she finds that the time passes more quickly when she tries to occupy herself with other things. Clapping her hands together as the sound of hoof beats outside fades into the distance, Alex smiles at Nora. "Alright then, young miss. Back to the pianoforte."

Nora groans.

The rest of the day is spent productively enough but only with very careful planning by Alex. Nora detests the pianoforte so immediately after her lesson, she rewards her with the task of doing her sums, which the girl relishes and is actually quite proficient at. Her needlepoint – another chore for Nora – is immediately followed by practicing her penmanship since Nora loves the scent of the ink and drawing the swirling letters her mother has taught her. Proper teatime etiquette is rewarded with an extra scone slathered in cream. An hour's reading means an hour of frolicking about on the moors like a wild thing, Parker tagging along as her glorified babysitter. Alex has discovered through trial and error that a system of rewards works best in tutoring Nora.

It's nearly dinner by the time she returns from outdoors, her hair hanging in sweat-damp tendrils down her back and her hand clinging to Parker's. There is still no sign of Matt but Alex refuses to worry just yet. Sometimes he stops to do a bit of shopping and he'll get distracted buying his girls something pretty.

Tugging Parker into the parlour with her, Nora huffs a stray curl from her flushed face and says, "Mummy, when is Papa coming home?"

"Soon." Alex rises from her seat and fusses with her daughter's dirt-stained dress with a sigh. "Why don't you run upstairs and wash up?"

Nora frowns. "But he's supposed to give me a lesson today, remember?"

"Yes, I remember." Alex feels a smile tugging at her lips despite herself, kneeling to meet her daughter's serious blue eyes. Matt has been teaching her self-defense – had been insistent upon it actually. They'd had quite the row about it but in the end, Alex couldn't deny him the chance to protect his daughter any way he can. Of course, Nora loves it. She loves any excuse to spend time with her father. "Your Papa is a bit late today. You might have to postpone your lesson until tomorrow. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know how much you love them."

"I wouldn't worry." Parker lays a hand on her little shoulder, offering a wide grin that Nora can't help but return against her will. "She spent the afternoon attacking me from behind and launching herself from tree branches without giving me even a stick to defend myself with. She's had plenty of practice."

Nora elbows him, huffing. "You promised not to tell."

"I'm not telling her the half of it, little demon," he teases.

Alex stifles a smile, standing once more. "Thank you for looking after her, dear. She didn't hurt you, did she?"

Parker shakes his head, smiling. "Not yet. Once she's a proper lady, I imagine it'll hurt quite a bit more."

Looking positively devious, Nora preens and bounces on her toes. "Then I can't wait until I'm a proper lady. I shall be much tougher than you."

"I have no doubt." Parker ruffles her hair.

"Just don't grow in such a hurry. Lord, you're already seven." Alex laughs. "I quite like you being my little one."

"I'll still be your little one when I'm grown, Mummy." Nora hops up to her side and clings to her waist, smiling up at her. "I'll just be taller."

Parker snorts. "Come on, imp. Let's see if Iris can scrub you of at least one layer of dirt."

Looking a little insulted, Nora lets go of Alex and skips to his side. "At least I'm not the one bleeding on Mummy's carpet."

"You pushed me into a bramble of thorns, you naughty thing!"

Nora giggles, scrambling away from him as he tickles her side.

Alex stands in the parlour, arms wrapped around her middle, and listens to their laughter as they disappear up the stairs. She turns from the doorway, pacing away to the front hall and to the door. She opens it, peering out into the evening gloom and hoping to see her husband riding up the lane, but the lane is empty. She can't even hear the sound of his horse in the distance. Leaning into the door and curling her fingers around the handle, Alex swallows the lump in her throat and breathes into the fog, "Where are you, darling?"

She barely touches her dinner.

Nora eats with her usual voracious appetite, talking about this and that as Alex picks at her food and tries to pay attention. After Hobbs comes in to clear their plates, she cannot recall what they had for dinner or a word of Nora's chatter. She blinks distantly at her empty glass of wine and feels tears sting her eyes.

Hovering at her side, Hobbs glances anxiously between her and Nora, who appears to be finally noticing her mother's distress. "Begging your pardon, Mistress," she says quietly. "But I thought I might take the little mistress into the kitchens with me tonight. She wanted to help me bake a cake if you don't mind."

Hobbs bites her lip and it's suddenly very obvious that she's trying to give Alex the space she needs to fret in peace without worrying she'll upset Nora. She purses her lips and nods gratefully, squeezing the girl's hand. "Thank you, Hobbs. Nora would love that, wouldn't you?"

Nora nods slowly, still eyeing her mother with a worried frown.

Alex pastes on a smile for her. "Go on then. I'll be up to tuck you in when it's time for bed,

lovely."

Nora scrambles from her chair and rounds the table, throwing her arms around Alex. "Papa is alright, Mummy."

Shutting her eyes, Alex wraps Nora up tight in her arms, burying her face in her long, sweet-smelling dark hair. "Of course he is." Releasing her, she tucks Nora's hair behind her ears and smiles. "Remember to put on an apron or you'll dirty your clothes."

Nora follows Hobbs from the room, leaving Alex to sit in the dining room by herself. Her eyes drift to the empty chair Matt usually occupies, her heart clenching painfully. He should be here now, lingering over his brandy and watching her with those dark, dark eyes. He should be teasing her into a smile and stroking long fingers over the inside of her wrist to make her shudder. He should be escorting her to the library so they can curl up together on the settee in front of the fire. She wants his arms around her. She wants the smell of his cigars and his brandy and the soft brush of his lips against her ear. She wants him here and safe.

He'd promised he would be home before dinner and he always keeps his promises to her. What could possibly be preventing him? All sorts of horrible thoughts run rampant through her mind. Maybe one of his clients overpowered him. Maybe he'd been hurt and fell from his horse trying to get back home. He could be bleeding in a ditch somewhere. He could be dead.

Her stomach rebels violently at the thought and Alex presses a trembling hand to her mouth, scurrying from the dining room, down the hall to the foyer and finally stumbling out the front door to empty what little she managed to eat at dinner into a bush. Her stomach continues to heave anyway and she clutches her middle with one hand, using the other to keep from falling to the ground in a heap. Tears sting her eyes and a sob hitches in her throat. She can't breathe.

A gentle hand pressed between her shoulder blades, rubbing almost hesitantly, offers a soothing touch. She stiffens until she hears Parker's soft voice. "It's alright, Mistress. Calm down. Deep breath, yeah?" She gasps for air, still crying, and Parker uses his other hand to grip her arm, keeping her upright. "Another one, there you go. Everything is just fine."

She shakes her head, struggling to breathe as she lifts a shaking hand to wipe her mouth. "No, it isn't."

Parker sighs. "He knows how to take care of himself. Believe me, I've seen it."

"Then why isn't he here?"

He swallows. "I don't know."

"I should have sent you with him." She pushes back another wave of tears, biting her lip. "Things have been so quiet lately that I didn't insist and now look. He's – he's…" She paces away from him, one hand tangled in her hair and the other pressed over her pounding heart. "I don't know what to do," she confesses softly. "Parker, tell me what to do."

He's silent for a long moment, watching her with worried brown eyes. "Give him another hour. Tuck Nora into bed. If he isn't back by then, we'll find him."

She nods silently, not trusting herself to speak.

"He's alive, Mistress." Parker offers her a grim smile. "He'd never leave you and the little one."

"Not by choice, no." Alex turns from him and starts for the manor, arms wrapped around herself to ward off the evening chill in the air.

"Mistress?"

She turns, glancing over her shoulder to find Parker watching her uncertainly. He's grown so much, her little Parker – tall and dark, his black hair beginning to curl. She'll always see a scruffy eleven year old when she looks at him but he's every inch a handsome young man now. "Yes?"

"We'll find him."

She nods shakily. "Meet me in his study in an hour."

Putting Nora to bed tonight proves to be a challenge. She's beginning to fret just as much as Alex, asking after her father constantly. Climbing into bed, Nora falls back against her pillows with a dramatic pout. "Mummy, he should be home now. He promised!"

Alex settles onto the edge of her bed, tucking the blankets up to her chin. "I know, lovely. But he'll be home by morning."

"How do you know?"

She offers a watery smile, smoothing a hand over Nora's brow. "Because I'm going to find him and bring him back."

Nora yawns, watching through sleepy eyes as Alastor ambles into the room and hops up onto the bed, curling up at the foot of it, her silent guardian. "I miss him."

"Me too, my love." Alex leans in and kisses her cheek, eyes stinging. "Sleep well and in the morning, we'll all be together again."

Snuggling into her pillow, Nora closes her eyes and sighs. "Promise?"

Alex leans over her bedside table, opening the music box Matt had brought back from town years ago. Nora still can't sleep without it. As the slow, soothing melody fills the room, Alex breathes in quietly and nods. "I promise."

Matt's study looks just as it always does – neat, orderly, everything in its place. His large mahogany desk takes up a majority of the room, littered with papers and quills, inkwells and flowers from Nora. Alex crosses first to where he keeps his brandy, pulling the decanter and a glass from the shelf while Parker stands uncertainly in the doorway.

"What are we looking for?" He asks, peering around the room as if Matt might disapprove of him being in here without his permission.

Alex pours herself a bit of brandy and shoves the decanter back onto the shelf, keeping her back turned to Parker for a long moment. She cups her hands around her glass and brings it up to her face, closing her eyes. It smells like Matt – the faint richness of smoky wood and pomegranates. She remembers tasting it on his tongue the first time he kissed her – properly kissed her – right here in this room. He always tastes like this brandy. It's become a comfort to her. A reminder of home. What if it's all she has now? What if – No. She mustn't entertain the thought. Not now.

She takes a quick gulp of her drink, relishing the way it burns sliding down her throat, and turns on her heel to face Parker. "Shut the door."

He steps into the room and obeys without question.

Alex moves to the desk, stepping behind it and scanning the papers scattered across it. "I need to know who he was visiting today. He must keep a record somewhere."

Parker nods, crossing the room in two quick strides. "He keeps them in here." He taps the top drawer. "A record of every client and when their payment is due. He's very meticulous about it. We'll just need to find the ones dated for today."

Setting down her drink, Alex sinks into the leather chair and reaches into her hair, pulling out a pin. "Will you do the honors?"

He grins, taking the pin from her. "I always knew my thieving would come in handy one day."

"Don't take this as an encouragement," Alex warns, stifling a smile.

Shrugging, Parker kneels in front of the drawer and sets to work.

She gives him his space, turning back to her drink and the contents of Matt's desktop. There are various notes and letters in his hand and she can't help reaching out to brush her fingers over dried ink, admiring the neat curl of his script. A picture Nora had drawn him of the three of them in the garden together has a place of prominence at the top of his desk, pinned in place by the paperweight Alex remembers throwing at his head when they were first married. Lord but she wasted a lot of time blindly hating this man.

"Got it."

She glances up hopefully and finds the drawer open, Parker holding out a hand to her. She takes the pin from him and tucks it back into her hair with a nod of thanks. "Do you know where to look in there?"

He nods, lips pursed as he rifles through various files. With admirable quickness, he pulls file after file from the drawer and drops them onto the desk. Alex opens each file as soon as he drops it, hungrily scanning each one for the day's date. Parker was right – Matt is very scrupulous about keeping accurate records of his transactions with his clients.

She writes down the name and address of each client who was due for payment today, making sure to only write down the names of those Matt hadn't marked as paid in full. One name in particular catches her eye: Ian du Cann – the wealthy but prone to gambling Lord who'd come crawling to Matt for a loan months ago. When the time came to pay up, he'd refused despite having the money to pay Matt back. He'd refused merely because he could, because he was too rich and powerful and surrounded by guards for Matt to do a bloody thing about it.

Oh, Matt had been furious. Alex still shudders thinking about how utterly unmanageable he'd been for days after the encounter, his pride wounded. She'd begged him to let it go and after a few days, he'd seemed to. When she asked him about it, he'd only smiled and told her that du Cann had repented and paid what he owed. Nothing to worry about, pet, he'd said. Only a spoiled, dimwitted leech who thought he could double-cross me.

Now, Alex stares down at his file and the words under payment.

Horses: 2000 pounds

Carriage: burnt

Carriage house: burnt

Paid in full

"Matt stole du Cann's horses and burnt his carriage house?" She frowns, glancing up the same moment Parker does, his brown eyes wide. "I thought he paid?"

"He did." Parker swallows, trying to pull the file from her hands. Alex resists, gripping it tightly. "It's only, he paid without his permission."

"Matt took what he wanted, then. As always." Alex grits her teeth, angry tears filling her eyes. "He told me he was going to let it go."

"He couldn't, Ma'am. His reputation was at stake." Parker eyes her worriedly. "It all worked out in the end. He didn't want you to worry."

She huffs humorlessly.

"Mistress -"

"Did du Cann do this then?" She lifts her eyes to meet his, her jaw set and her chin raised in determination. "Did he hurt Matt?"

"I don't know, Ma'am." Parker stares back earnestly, no lie in his face. "But we can find out."

She leaves a few older boys to look after Nora before saddling Cerberus and riding out into the night with Parker and Benson, her dagger tucked into her boot and one of Matt's pistols at her side.

It's nearing midnight by the time they reach town and though Alex had a feeling no one would be pleased to be dragged out of bed at such an hour, she hadn't expected the sheer terror on their faces at the sight of her, as if Matt himself were standing before them.

She tries to muster a friendly smile for the first man who opens the door. "Mr. Stevens?"

He nods, peering around the doorframe warily. "Lady Smith."

"Oh, have we met before, Sir?"

He shakes his head.

"Then how do you -" She stops, shaking her head. Not important. "Did my husband come to see

you today?"

"No, he didn't. Is that all?" He tries to shut the door in her face.

Alex stops him with a booted foot in the doorframe, glaring. "Rude, Mr. Stevens."

He pales. "Sorry, Ma'am."

"I ask again – and please keep in mind the lovely gentlemen behind me who won't be quite so nice if they must ask you themselves – did you see my husband today? I know your payment was due."

"Well, that's just the thing, Ma'am." Mr. Stevens eyes Benson and Parker lurking behind her with unease. "I expected him to make a visit today and he never did."

"I see." She glances over her shoulder. "So you won't mind if my friends have a look around your home?" It's polite to ask but she doesn't really give him a choice.

It becomes apparent fairly quickly that Mr. Stevens isn't hiding Matt and is genuinely terrified of the three of them so when they leave half an hour later, they mount their horses and move on to the next client. Every other visit is much the same. Sleepy, terrified people answering the door – one of which takes one look at Alex and the silent menaces behind her before sinking to his knees and crying, holding out a pocketful of wadded up bills. None of them have seen Matt today and thorough searches of their homes prove they aren't lying.

Standing outside the last home Matt was supposed to visit today and with still no sign of her husband, Alex turns on the two men in her company, hands on her hips. "Satisfied? No one else has seen him. It must have been du Cann."

Parker nods. "His men must have ambushed Master Smith on his way into town."

Leaning into Cerberus behind her, Alex turns her face into the horse's neck and breathes in steadily, trying to will away images of Matt being ambushed and carried off to lord knows where. If that money-hungry cad has harmed one hair on his head, she will carve out his insides and scatter his remains around the park for the birds.

"What do we do?"

Alex lifts her head, hand curling into Cerberus' dark mane. "Take me where he lives."

"Master Smith wouldn't have you anywhere near that man -"

"That's an order, Benson," she says softly.

He deflates. "Yes, Ma'am."

Du Cann's townhouse is a garish, ostentatious thing – just what Alex would expect from a man who fritters away his money and then gets angry and childish when the money he borrows must be paid back. She hates the man already.

Hopping down from Cerberus, Alex ties the horse to a post outside and bends to slip the knife from her boot as Benson and Parker see to their own horses and weapons.

Hovering uncertainly behind her and looking rather adorably cautious for such a tall, muscular man, Benson wrings his hands together. "I hope you have a plan because he isn't going to deliver Master Smith into your hands without a fight."

She nods. "Yes, and I don't plan on leaving here without spilling his blood all over his no doubt hideous parlour so I'd say our expectations are perfectly aligned."

Benson sighs. "And what is the plan, my Lady?"

"I'm going in to get my husband." She slips her dagger into her sleeve and pulls back the hammer on her pistol. "I'll shoot anyone who gets in my way."

He stares at her. "That's it?"

"Have you got a better one?"

"Sounds perfect to me," Parker supplies grimly, stepping up to her side.

Alex glances at him with a grateful smile.

Benson frowns. "My Lady, when you married Master Smith, I promised him I would look after you whatever it took. I promised him I would guard you with my life -"

Alex presses a gentle hand to his arm, smiling softly. "Then I suppose you'd better tag along and keep me safe, hmm?"

He sighs, eyeing her with equals parts amusement and exasperation. Finally, he gives a terse nod. "Where you lead, I follow."

For all Benson's bluster about not having a plan, he seems to know exactly what he's doing. He assigns Parker the task of picking the lock on the front door and the two of them refuse to let her go in first, pushing her behind them and slipping into the house with their weapons drawn. They move silently through the dark house and Alex stays close behind them, peering into the shadows for any sign of Matt.

They barely make it out of the parlour before running into someone on the servants' staircase. Parker pushes her out of the way and she takes a step back, watching silently as Benson clap a hand over the servant's mouth and wrestles his arm behind his back. "Where is Lord Smith being kept?"

The servant squirms in his grasp, glaring.

Parker shoves the end of his knife against the man's throat. His struggle ceases instantly as his eyes go wide. "My friend is going to remove his hand. You will tell us where Lord Smith is. If you try to scream, I will slit your throat. Understood?"

The servant nods shakily and Alex crosses her arms over her chest, feeling a bit childishly left out. She can threaten just as well as Parker. Matt has taught her nothing if not how to take care of herself.

When Benson removes his hand from his mouth, the servant stutters out quietly, "H-he's upstairs.

In the attic room."

"He's alive?" Alex feels tears of relief sting her eyes and quickly forces them away as the servant finally notices her standing behind them. "Is he hurt?"

Benson slaps the back of the servant's head when he continues to stare. "My Lady asked you a question, scum."

The servant cowers, flinching away from him. "He's alive, Ma'am. He might be hurt, I'm not sure."

"Do you know what your master planned to do with him?"

He gulps. "I don't know."

Parker edges his knife closer to his throat, glowering.

The servant whimpers. "I mean, I think he might have wanted ransom. Or maybe he would have killed him outright for torching his carriage house. After he tortured him first."

Alex flinches, hands clenching into fists.

Parker hisses, knife pressed into the tender, white skin of the servant's neck.

"Please," the servant begs, squeezing his eyes shut. "Please, I'm sorry -"

"You are lucky I don't kill you now," Benson says quietly, a savage frown on his face. "I only refrain because we are in the presence of a lady. Leave this house without a sound or I will come after you and kill you in the street."

They watch him scurry off, leaving the house and running out into the street quiet as a church mouse. Parker glances over his shoulder, grinning at her expression. "You want the next one?"

Benson growls at him.

Parker laughs quietly and pushes past him, making a silent motion for them to follow him up the stairs. They run into a few more servants when they reach the next floor, all of whom receive the same rough treatment and ultimatum – leave quietly or die messily. They all choose the former. It seems as though all of du Cann's men have gone home and Alex wonders if he really thought no one was coming for Matt. He felt safe enough to send home his men and lay his head down to sleep without fearing for his safety. She marvels that the man must actually believe Matt has no one who would miss him, not even his wife and child. Matt was right about him – he really is nothing but a spoiled, dimwitted leech.

The last servant dealt with, Benson reaches for his pistol. "I'm going to find du Cann. Go to the attic for Master Smith." He looks to Parker, eyes solemn. "You take care of her, understand me?"

"Don't be daft, of course I will," Parker scowls. "Now go before we decide to leave you here in exchange for Master Smith."

Benson offers Alex one last glance and she nods once, smiling softly. "I'll be fine. Don't lose your temper." Grumbling about smart-mouthed teenage boys, Benson slinks off down the corridor, in search of du Cann's chambers. Alex turns to Parker, eyebrow raised. "Well come on then. I'm quite tired of all this silliness and more than ready to find my husband."

Parker offers a charming, sloppy salute and starts leading her in the opposite direction Benson had gone. "He's going to be very cross that you're here, you know." He snorts. "Not that he'll be angry with you. He'll be angry with me."

"Don't worry, dear," she says, feeling more lighthearted by the minute as they inch closer and closer to her husband. Nearly her entire day has been spent worrying about him and though it's only been a matter of hours since the last time she saw him or heard his voice, it feels like it's been years. She can't wait to be in his arms again. "I promise not to let him beat you too severely."

They both exchange an amused grin at the notion of Matt ever laying a hand to anyone in their household, rounding the corner and finding the staircase to the attic room right in front of them. The only problem, they realize quickly, is that du Cann hadn't been stupid enough to leave his home unguarded after all. Heart leaping into her chest at the sight of the burly man sitting on the staircase and watching them with amusement, Alex curls a hand into Parker's elbow and takes a step back.

"It's fine," he says, not taking his eyes off the man in front of them. "Just stay behind me."

She nods, watching the man stand slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if the sight of Lord Smith's wife and a young man clutching a knife bores him. She realizes why once he approaches them, reaching for the pistol tucked into the back of his trousers. She swallows, hand tightening around Parker's elbow. "Not to sound like I'm doubting your abilities or anything, dear, but I believe you've brought a knife to a gun fight."

"Astute as always, my Lady," he says dryly.

Du Cann's lackey grins broadly at them, pulling back the hammer of his pistol. "Which of you would like to go first?" His eyes fall on Alex, gaze tracing over her boots and trousers, her curls wild around her head. His smile widens. "You the missus, then? Might save you for last. It could be fun – watching your husband's face when I shoot you right in front of him."

Parker snarls at him. "How dare you speak to a lady like that, you miserable bastard."

"I don't see a lady," the man sneers. "But don't worry, I won't shoot her right away. We'll have a bit of fun first, her and me. Oh, the things I've heard about the lovely Mrs. Smith."

"You dare touch her and I'll -"

Alex lays a quelling hand on Parker's arm, feeling the seething young man's whole frame tremble with rage. Her eyes drift past du Cann's man, over his shoulder and up the staircase to the door at the top. Matt is behind that door. She'll do anything to get to him. "Hush, Parker." She pushes him out of the way, drawing her pistol. "I'll handle this."

His eyes widen. "Mistress -"

Her gaze cuts to him, sharp and full of meaning. "Stay out of the way, dear."

His jaw tightens and he nods once.

"Good lad," the man says, smirking. "Why don't you run along? And you, put down your little weapon before I get angry, hmm?"

She smiles coldly, forcing her hand not to shake as he steps closer. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I'm here for my husband and I'm not leaving without him."

He sighs and actually has the audacity to lower his weapon, as if a woman pointing a gun in his face isn't a danger to him. "And I'm afraid I can't let you do that. What say you forget about him, pet?"

Her finger twitches against the trigger, drawing his gaze. He doesn't notice Parker silently inching around them, knife in hand.

"He's nothing special, I can promise you. Just a thug in a nice suit."

"As opposed to you, then?" She lifts an eyebrow, silently fuming. "A thug in rags?"

He laughs softly. "At least I'm not trying to hide what I am. Your husband dresses like a gentleman but he's no better than a man like me. The only difference is he has money to buy a fancy title and I don't."

Parker is almost right behind him now but Alex refuses to look at him lest she give the game away. "That's where you're wrong, Sir. My husband could be a beggar on the street and he would still be twice the man you are."

He laughs, eyes dark as he rakes his gaze over her. "I can see why he married you. You've the spirit of a woman half your age."

She glowers.

"Come on," he says, still smiling. "Forget him. He's as good as dead once du Cann's done with him. Let's you and me get to know each other, yeah?"

"I'd sooner slit my own throat," she says, flashing a pleasant smile.

"That can be arranged if you don't play nice."

"You first."

At her nod, Parker finally attacks from behind. One arm around the man's chest to hold him in place, he brings the other around his neck, knife in hand. The man stiffens, eyes going wide, and for a moment, Alex thinks Parker might actually slit his throat. Her heart leaps in panic and she steps forward, hand outstretched but Parker speaks before she gets the chance to protest. "You can walk into this cupboard over here and let me lock you in, or I can kill you. Choose wisely."

"C-cupboard," the man stutters, swallowing hard.

Parker looks to her. "Take his gun, my Lady."

She steps closer cautiously, reaching for the man's gun in his holster, and he blatantly ogles her as she leans in. She wrinkles her nose, holding her breath as the repellent stench of body odor and ale overwhelms her. Grasping the weapon quickly, she yanks it out and stumbles back, gasping for clean air. She tucks the gun into her waistband, nodding to Parker.

He removes the knife from the man's throat, prodding it into his back instead as he marches him across the corridor to the tiny cupboard, shoving him in. "Sit." For a moment, Parker glances idly around, as if looking for something. Apparently not finding it, he shrugs and promptly stabs the man in the shoulder.

Alex cries out at the same time Parker's victim does, a hand over her mouth. "God in heaven – Parker, what -" She watches him pull out the bloodied knife, feeling a little ill as he stabs him again in the other shoulder, the blade slicing cleanly through fragile skin. "What are you doing?"

He pauses in the middle of slicing the man's calf open. "I couldn't find any rope."

"What – stop. That's enough."

He shrugs, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping off the blade. "We can't have him trying to escape."

She stares at him, mouth open.

He sighs. "It isn't going to kill him. Just… incapacitate him." Turning, he glares at the pale man crouched in the cupboard and bleeding everywhere. "Unfortunately."

Alex nods, slowly closing her gaping mouth.

Parker lifts a brow at her. "Not going to faint are you?"

"Of course not." She swallows again, wondering why it even affects her so. She has had to use her own dagger once before, but that was out of self-defense, not stabbing a man cornered in a cupboard. She knows how violent Matt and his underlings are. It's why people are so bloody frightened of them. But for the most part, Matt shields her from taking part or being witness to it. She supposes it's one thing to know something and another entirely to see it for herself. "I'm fine."

"Sure?"

She nods more firmly this time, lifting her eyes to meet Parker's. "I'm sure."

From inside the cupboard, the man coughs, bleeding profusely. Somehow, he still manages to find the energy to leer at Alex. "Such fire," he mumbles, lifting his head to look right at her. "Going to come in here and keep me warm, pet?"

All pity for the man vanishes at the leering request.

"Only my husband calls me that," she says coldly, and slams the cupboard door shut.

She's up the stairs and shoving at the attic door frantically before Parker can even tuck his knife and bloodied handkerchief away. The door is locked and no matter how she pushes and shoves, it refuses to budge. She lets out a frustrated cry and sinks to her knees on the landing, pressing her forehead to the wood as she calls through it, "Matt? Darling, can you hear me?"

She can't hear a response no matter how hard she listens and she squeezes her eyes shut, stroking the uneven wood grain beneath her fingertips and picturing her husband on the other side. He's in

there and he's fine. He has to be. What will she do if he isn't? It scares her, just what she might be capable of then.

"Try this." Parker towers over her, a key in hand. "It was in his trouser pocket."

Gasping, she snatches it from him and slides it into the lock, twisting the key with shaking hands. The attic door creaks open. Wiping hurriedly at her cheeks, Alex sniffles and scrambles to her feet, tripping through the door and into the small attic room. It isn't much and it's mostly bare, save for a small writing desk in the corner, a rickety wooden chair with peeling paint, a bookshelf with aging texts, and small cot in the middle of the room – where Matt is slumped over, chained to the bedpost.

Alex lets out a noise somewhere between a cry of relief and a sob, crossing the space between them before she even makes the conscious decision to move her feet. She drops to her knees at the side of the bed, turning her husband over gently. The first thing she notices is the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes and something horrible and tight comes unknotted in her chest at the sight. He's breathing. She can handle anything else so long as he keeps doing that. Quickly sweeping her gaze over him for injuries, she determines that while he's a bit bloodied and bruised, he doesn't appear to be seriously hurt.

She settles onto the bed and pulls him into her arms while Parker prowls the room looking for a key to the lock chaining Matt's wrist to the bed. "Matt? Darling, open your eyes." She shakes him gently, cradling his face in her hands. There's a cut above his eyebrow and another just beneath his jaw and she almost wants to march back down the attic stairs and put her own knife through the man trapped in the cupboard for harming this dear face she loves so very much. "Come on, darling. Look at me."

It isn't until a tear slips from her chin and onto his cheek that she even realizes she's crying again. She wonders if she'll ever stop. After hours of stress, hours of wondering if her husband was dead or alive, it's a welcome relief to have him in her arms now, but her body hasn't quite seemed to catch up yet. Her heart still races, her hands tremble and her eyes just keep filling up.

The moment he wakes, she imagines he'll tease her mercilessly for crying over him but she can't help it and can't even manage to be embarrassed about her incoherent, muffled sobbing in front of Parker. The boy has seen her in far worse shape today.

She pats Matt's cheek gently as Parker sweeps from the room and thunders back down the stairs. "Matthew," she whispers. "If you don't open your eyes right this moment I am inviting my parents to the manor for Christmas. And I'll ask them to stay an entire month."

As Parker's footsteps pound against the stairs on his way back up, Matt's eyes finally begin to flutter. Alex laughs softly, beaming down at him and stroking her fingers over his cheek.

"I thought that might rouse you."

He frowns up at her, eyes unfocused. "Alex?"

She nods, bending her head and kissing his forehead, cradling him against her. "I'm here, my love. How are you feeling?"

"Sore." He blinks groggily at her. "Why are you here?"

Carding her fingers through his hair, Alex laughs. "Well to rescue you, of course."

"On your own?" He looks somewhere between panicked and incensed, wincing as he struggles to sit up. "What in the buggering hell were you thinking? You could have been -"

Parker kneels next to her, another key in hand. "Not alone, Master Smith."

Matt stares at him. "And what are you doing here? You shouldn't have let her come. What do I keep you around for if you're just going to follow after her like a useless pup?"

"It was her idea!" Parker argues, eyes wide. "She insisted. You know how stubborn she can be. I knew I couldn't stop her but I could at least look after her."

Matt smirks tiredly. "Not here just to rescue me then?"

"No, Sir." Parker grins. "I'm quite happy to be rid of you."

"Such impudence." Matt sighs, looking worryingly exhausted, and Alex grips his hand tightly. "I shall whip you when we get home."

Parker nods, slipping the key into the lock and turning it. "I would expect nothing else, Sir."

Alex slips the metal cuff from around his wrist and tosses it away, rubbing her fingers tenderly over the red, aggravated skin. "Imagine, chaining you like an animal," she says, voice shaking with rage. "My poor darling." She presses her lips to his wrist. "Were they horrible to you?"

"I've treated men worse." He shrugs, letting her help him to sit up. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Alex leans into his side, unutterably grateful to have him with her again, even smelling of blood and sweat. Matt turns his face into her hair with a barely audible sigh as Parker crosses the room and peers down the attic stairs, no doubt listening for Benson. "Are you alright, pet?"

Her eyes mist over at the softly spoken question, filled with quiet concern for her. As if she were the one kidnapped and struck and chained to a bed like some sort of beast. She nods shakily, gripping his hand tightly, and doesn't trust herself to speak a word.

Matt sighs, pressing his mouth to her ear. "I'm sorry, love. I never meant to put you through this."

"I know."

He groans softly at the note of tears in her voice, drawing her closer. "I'm perfectly fine, Alex. Please don't cry." She shudders against him, struggling to swallow the lump in her throat, and he plants a rough kiss to her temple. "You know I can't stand it when you cry, pet."

"I'm sorry," she manages, sniffling as she blinks rapidly. Turning in his arms, she wraps herself around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in. "I've been so worried, my love."

"I know," he says gently, nearing crooning at her. "But everything is alright now."

Footsteps on the stairs send them springing apart, turning to stare at the attic door. Benson appears in the doorway, looking relieved to see Matt sitting up and coherent. "Master Smith," he greets. "You need to go."

Alex reluctantly lets go of her husband to stand and help him to his feet. "What about you?"

Benson purses his lips. "I need to take care of things here."

He says take care of things in such a way that Alex suspects the fate of du Cann and the man in the cupboard have already been decided and she feels her stomach churn uneasily but neither Matt nor Parker flinches at the notion. Instead, Matt looks more upset to see his stablehand than anything. "Benson? Christ, pet, did you bring the entire household along? Is Nora downstairs too?"

"Of course not, darling, don't be silly." She beams up at him, taking his hand and leading him toward the door. "It's past her bedtime."

It's nearing the wee hours of the morning when they finally arrive back at the manor. Alex leaves Parker to tend to the horses and takes her husband to bed, ignoring his grumbling that he is perfectly capable of undressing himself. She cleans his cuts and checks him thoroughly to make sure he hasn't broken any ribs or received any deep lacerations, before finally allowing him to sleep.

She sits beside the bed, holding his hand and staring avidly – drinking in every flutter of his lashes, every inhale and exhale, every twitch of his fingers around her wrist – until he drifts off to sleep. She forces herself to let go of his hand, kissing his knuckles and smoothing his hair from his brow, before leaving him to cross the hall and slip into Nora's bedroom.

The room is dark save for a lone candle across the room but as Alex draws closer, she can see Alastor still curled up at the foot of the bed and Nora fast asleep, snug beneath her blankets. She smiles in relief, stooping to kiss her forehead.

Nora stirs, blinking her eyes open. "Mummy?"

"Shh, I'm just checking on you, lovely," she whispers. "Go back to sleep."

She yawns. "Did you find Papa?"

Alex smiles widely, nodding. "Yes, I did. And he was very sorry he missed your lesson today." She leans in, kissing her cheek. "But he's home now. Safe and sound."

Nora nods sleepily, stifling another yawn. "Can I see him?"

"In the morning, sweetheart. Sleep now."

She waits until Nora falls asleep again before crossing the hall and shutting the door. In the dark, she strips off her boots and trousers, climbing into bed in Matt's shirt. Matt is a heavy sleeper under normal circumstances and as exhausted as he is, he doesn't even rouse as she tucks herself snugly into his side. Resting her head on his chest so she can hear the sound of his heartbeat, Alex shuts her eyes and tries to sleep, content in the knowledge that her husband is warm and safe beside her.

She wakes to the feel of long, clever fingers twisting in her curls and she smiles into the broad chest beneath her, blinking her eyes open. "Good morning."

He kisses the top of her head, rumbling in that sleepy voice she loves. "How are you feeling?"

Huffing, she props her chin up on his chest and frowns. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Matt shakes his head, eyeing her with concern. "I imagine you suffered a great deal more than I did yesterday."

"Yes, well." She glances away, swallowing thickly.

"Alex -"

She purses her lips, shaking her head. "I was afraid you were dead," she whispers. "I was afraid I would never see you again or hold you or kiss you -"

He threads his hand through the curls at the back of her head and pulls her toward him, his mouth claiming hers in a needy, desperate kiss. Alex returns it with fervor, her heart leaping as his lips slides hotly over hers. His mouth is like silk and she presses against him as he kisses her like he might never get the chance again. She whimpers when he pulls away.

"That's where you were wrong." He smirks, nipping at her nose playfully. "There will always be more kisses, pet."

She tries to smile for him but her lips tremble so she buries her face in his neck, clinging to him. "You cannot leave me, do you understand?" She shuts her eyes, letting him wrap her in his arms. "I wouldn't survive it."

"And you think I would fare any better?" He asks gruffly, his breath stirring her hair. "What were you thinking gallivanting off in the middle of the night on some half-arsed rescue mission? Anything could have happened to you -"

"I only had to rescue you because you lied to me!" She lifts her head, frowning, and Matt instantly quiets, looking guilty. "You said he paid you. You said everything was fine."

"I didn't want to worry you," he mumbles, scowling.

"Fat lot of good that did you," she snaps, and moves to sit up.

Matt grasps her wrist, keeping her in place, his eyes dark and contrite. "Don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry." She sighs, settling back against him and running a hand through her rumpled curls. "I'm scared."

He frowns. "I don't want you to be afraid."

"I am always afraid for you, darling." She traces soft fingers over his cheekbone, avoiding his gaze. "That isn't going to change. But you can help by not keeping me in the dark. We're supposed to be partners, aren't we? Equals?"

"Of course we are." He lifts his hand to grip hers, his fingers squeezing tightly.

"Then I need you to treat me like one." She laces their fingers together, stroking his knuckles with her thumb, her gaze weighted with meaning as she looks at him. "Stop hiding things from me you think I'm too weak to handle."

He sets his jaw, bristling. "I do not think you're weak."

"Oh?" She lifts a brow. "Could have fooled me. Protecting your little wife, far too fragile to handle all this manly business -"

"Stop." He frowns at her, brow furrowed. "That isn't what I was doing."

"What were you doing?"

"I don't know," he snaps, looking frustrated. "But it wasn't that. You're more than capable of handling these things. I just don't like it when you worry, that's all. I want you to feel safe, alright?"

"How can I feel safe when I know you could be hiding things from me?" She smoothes a hand over his brow, watching him lean into her touch. "I need you to promise me there will be no more secrets between us."

He nods slowly, his eyes softening. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want." She threads a hand through his hair, smiling softly. "Now kiss me again, please."

The words are barely spoken before he crushes his mouth against hers, surprising even her with his fervency. He's relentless in his passion, pressing kiss after impatient kiss against her mouth and giving her no time at all to breathe. She doesn't let her starved lungs stop her from moving to straddle his waist, her hands clutching at his head to keep him just where she wants him.

He strokes his tongue hungrily against hers, his hands slipping beneath her shirt to roam over bare skin. His fingers slide up her sides and stroke her breasts but Alex keeps him pinned to the bed, reaching between them for his length, hard against her thigh.

Matt growls at her touch, hips lifting as she wraps a hand around him and strokes. He's hot and slick against her palm but his skin is like velvet. She brushes her thumb over the swollen head of his erection and watches him twitch, gasping.

"Never, ever put me through that again," she breathes. When their lips meet this time, it is bruising and full of punishment. It makes her toes curl into the sheets.

"Never," he swears, biting his way down her neck and chest. One of his hands struggles with the button on her shirt and the other slides between her legs, making her gasp. He makes a gruff noise of approval at how wet he finds her and she shifts closer, clutching at his shoulders. He nips at the side of her neck, abandoning her shirt buttons as a lost cause. "Come here," he says urgently, eyes nearly black. "Now."

Alex nods hurriedly, just as eager to be filled as he is to be inside her. She sinks down on him slowly, head tipped back, and draws the most deliciously guttural moan from the man panting beneath her. He clutches at her thighs as she begins to move, too keen to have him to bother waiting for either of them to adjust. His jaw clenches, burning eyes boring into her as he rocks his hips, silently urging her to move harder, faster. She bites her lip against a moan but the moment she circles her hips, she feels her vision swim and all thoughts of being quiet flee from her mind.

She throws her head back, his name an obscene cry on her lips. He feels so good, pushing deep inside again and again, and it's only here with him that she feels safe and loved, more desired than any creature on God's earth. He's alive and whole beneath her but oh god, what if she'd lost him? What would she do without this dark, wonderful, terrible man?

Alex stifles a sob, dropping her hands to his stomach to steady herself. Matt shushes her softly, one strong hand curling around her hip. His fingers bite into her flesh as he guides her hips steadily against his. "That's it, pet," he croons. "Just like this. Together." He tips his head back, watching her closely. "You are stunning."

She bites her lip, curls slipping into her eyes, and feels herself flush under his intense scrutiny. He looks at her like he can see all of her – every fear, every doubt, every hope and dream. He looks at her like he can see her very soul and he has never gazed upon anything so beautiful.

She feels her body start to tense – her abdomen and the dip of her spine burning with pleasure and her sex beginning its soft clenching around him. Matt swears under his breath, gripping her tighter. "Touch yourself," he orders gruffly, his eyes dark and wild. "Let me see you – oh yes, that's it.

Good girl."

Stroking the swollen flesh between her thighs and seconds from tipping over the edge, she whimpers. The moment she does, Matt bends his knees, feet planted firmly on the mattress, and thrusts up up up. Alex cries out sharply from mingled shock and delight, her whole body trembling as she free falls into her release. She's so lost in pleasure she barely feels Matt's bruising grip anymore. She fights for breath, flushed and sweaty, still fluttering wetly around his length.

He grinds against her twice, three times before letting out a helpless groan and stiffening beneath her. Alex drops against his heaving chest, settling there with her nose buried in the crook of his neck. Matt threads a hand through her hair, cradling her to him.

After a quiet moment spent clinging to each other and catching their breath, he clears his throat and Alex struggles to open her eyes and pay attention. "Thank you," he says softly. "For coming to my rescue, pet."

She laughs, lifting her head. "What did you expect me to do? Leave you there?" Without giving him the chance to give an undoubtedly silly reply, she kisses him slowly, mouth brushing his again and again, savoring him. When they part, he keeps his eyes shut, brow furrowed. She sighs, tracing her fingertip softly down his nose and over his chin. "Maybe I might have once but that was a very long time ago and I'll thank you to forget it was ever like that between us. I love you, darling. We all do."

His eyes flutter open to look at her. No matter how often she says it, he still stares at her like he had the first time – like he can't quite believe he could be so fortunate. Her ridiculous, grumpy husband. She wonders if he'll ever get used to having people who care, people who would and did kill for him.

"Darling, about Parker…"

He frowns. "What about him?"

"He stabbed a man because he couldn't find any rope." She frowns at his blank expression. "And Benson – darling, he killed for you."

"He's done it before." Matt strokes a hand over her hair. "Surely you knew that."

She nods slowly. "I suspected."

"Does it bother you?"

"I'm not sure." She sighs, biting her lip. "That's what you hired him for, I know. I suppose I just

don't like to think about it. And Nora spends so much time with Parker."

Matt shakes his head, looking faintly amused. "You don't honestly believe he would ever harm her?"

"No, of course not." She shakes her head firmly, surprised by how convicted she feels about the matter. "He'd harm himself first. But she looks up to him. I don't want him, I don't know, teaching her things."

"The only thing Parker teaches her is how to be unwaveringly patient." He chuckles softly and the fact that he isn't the least bit concerned somehow takes away some of her own anxieties. "He leaves the other things to us. I've made sure of that." When she still says nothing, he slips his hand into hers, squeezing lightly. "He hasn't killed anyone, if that's what you need to hear."

"Is it the truth?"

"Of course it is." He kisses her knuckles. "No more secrets, remember?"

"Will he?" She swallows. "One day?"

Matt blinks, glancing away.

"No more secrets," she reminds him gently.

He scratches at his cheek and lifts his eyes to hers. "I don't know. Possibly. But not now. Not for a while."

She nods slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Alright then."

He raises a thin brow at her, lips quirking. "Alright then?"

"I trust you." She purses her lips against a smile, earning a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. "I trust them. They're like family to me." She huffs, shaking her head. "Imagine, pickpockets and

murderers and bloody loan sharks for family. How am I ever going to raise a proper young lady in this house?"

"You won't, pet." He laughs softly, thumb slipping over her cheek as he slides a hand into her hair. "She wouldn't have it any other way, you know."

"No." Alex smiles. "Neither would I."

even the daughter of gods must know loneliness

Chapter Summary

He prefers the company of only his wife and child and other people make him cross but Nora is young and without the burdens he bears. Raising her all these years, he thought he was giving her everything she could possibly want when all along he has deprived her of the one thing even he cannot buy.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Letter from Hades to Persephone by Clementine Von Radics.

"Make a wish, my darling birthday girl!"

The dining room is filled with relatives –Laura and James and their two children, Nicola and her sons, and Alex's parents – but for once no one is arguing or glaring or even annoyed, not even Matt. They're all far too busy celebrating the little girl that had stumbled into their lives years ago, a pint-sized gift in a dirty dress.

Matt watches in quiet amusement as Nora flushes over the glow of the candle in her cake, avoiding the eyes of her family gathered around her – particularly her mother, who prods her again. "Go on, my love. Your wish is going to expire."

Nora huffs, looking flustered. "Wishes don't expire, Mother. They aren't even -"

"Just because it's your birthday," Alex begins with a frown, gently patting the top of her head, "doesn't mean you're permitted to argue with your mother. Isn't that right, darling?"

Matt grunts in agreement and Nora finds his eyes over her cake, glaring a little when she finds him smirking at her. "You heard your mother."

"Very well," she mumbles, and shuts her eyes. After a suitable few seconds have passed – just enough to satisfy Alex – she leans forward and blows out the candle. Opening her eyes as everyone around her claps, Nora keeps her gaze on the table, her cheeks pink.

Alex beams, bending over the back of Nora's chair and wrapping her arms around her daughter from behind. Kissing her cheek, she whispers, "What did you wish for?"

Nora shakes her head, pursing her lips. "Can't tell, remember?"

"That's my girl." Alex winks, squeezing her shoulder.

As Alex slips back to his side, sinking into the dining chair next to him, two of the serving girls part the crowd of well-wishers around Nora to wheel the cake away to the kitchen to cut it into slices and send it back out. Matt watches his daughter begin to relax as people file away back to their own chairs, wishing she had inherited her mother's uncanny knack for charming absolutely anybody.

Next to him, Alex chats across the table with his sister and her mother, smiling widely and enjoying being in the company of those she loves. Even so, slips her hand into his beneath the table and gives his fingers a squeeze, as if to silently convey that the celebration is almost over and they'll be alone again soon. He strokes his thumb over her knuckles in thanks, watching Nora slip from her chair and scurry from the room.

She stops in the doorway, lurking in the shadowed corridor just outside, and he sighs, wishing he could join her in running away from the cheerful chatter around him. All of this socializing is starting to give him a headache. Alex can go on like this for hours, entertaining everyone and playing the perfect hostess, never letting on that she'd rather be anywhere else. He, on the other hand, wants very much to be in his study with a glass of brandy and his wife warm and pliant on his lap. He isn't very talented at pretending otherwise.

Nora, he has noticed over the years, is much the same. She shies from being the center of attention, a solitary creature just as her father is. Crowds, even crowds of people she loves and who love her, make her ill tempered and skittish. As she tells Alex often, she much prefers the company of servants and horses.

He watches her blue eyes light up as she lingers just outside the dining room, looking lovely in her blue gown, her dark hair in an intricate braid down her back. He already knows exactly who she's looking at before Parker even comes into view, frowning as the boy stops right in front of his daughter. Lately, Matt has begun to wonder if Nora doesn't prefer the company of one servant in particular.

Parker stops right in front of her, not quite meeting her eyes, and even from here, Matt can see that

the boy is blushing up to his ears. Nora giggles at him, a hand covering her mouth, but the laughter ceases almost immediately as Parker shyly offers her a small, meticulously wrapped package.

With a small intake of breath, Nora lifts her eyes to his and Parker stammers out something that looks suspiciously like 'Happy Birthday, Miss Nora' though Matt can't hear him from where he sits. Nora's lips quirk in a little smile and she takes the gift from him, hugging it to her chest.

Matt wrenches his gaze away with a scowl, feeling the urge to get up and yank the two of them apart despite trusting Parker to never lay even a finger on his daughter. The boy is far too loyal to him to even think about it. At least, he'd better be.

His scowl deepens and Alex leans into his side while the others around the table are preoccupied with the arrival of cake. "Stop looking so scary," she teases quietly, her curls tickling his jaw. "It's almost over."

He forces his facial muscles into a more relaxed expression as Nora slinks back in and takes her seat of honor at the head of the table, looking flushed and happy but without Parker or his gift in sight. Pushing worrying thoughts about his footman and his little girl far from his mind, Matt tightens his grip on Alex's hand and attempts to at least pay attention to the happy conversations going on around the table.

Tomorrow, he can worry. Today, his little girl is seventeen.

Later that night, once all of their guests have retired to bed and Matt has managed to hide away in his study for a much-needed cigar, the manor is blessedly quiet once more. He climbs the creaking stairs slowly, feeling worn out from being around so many people at once, and trails his hand over the wooden banister, looking forward to having the house and his wife to himself tomorrow, once their families leave to journey to their own homes.

He knows Alex enjoys having a full house and for her sake, he will feel perhaps a twinge of regret at seeing them go but he knows she'll recover easily enough. By mid-afternoon, she'll be pestering him in his study and refusing to let him get any work done because she has missed being alone with him so terribly.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Matt slows to a stop in the corridor outside of his daughter's

chambers and knocks softly. "You can come in, Papa."

He huffs in annoyance, opening her door and slipping inside.

Sitting on her bed with a book open in her lap, Nora watches him triumphantly. "I knew it was you. No one else in the manor stalks through the corridors like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you own it and wish everyone to know it."

"I do own it," he grumbles, idly scanning her dresser. It's littered with little trinkets from her birthday celebration and he quickly checks to see if there's a gift sitting there that he doesn't recognize – the one from Parker she must have opened in private. "And I do not stalk."

Nora bites her lip, grinning as he settles onto the edge of her bed. "Yes, Father."

He eyes her with annoyance. "Has your mother been to bid you goodnight or is she as fed up with you as I am?"

She rolls her eyes heavenward. "She was already here. You missed her by about ten minutes but I'm sure she's still awake and waiting for you."

Knowing that it's very likely that Alex is indeed waiting up for him in their bed, Matt scowls and turns away from his daughter, hoping she doesn't see his blush. "Did you enjoy your birthday?"

In the mirror across the room, he catches a glimpse of Nora nodding eagerly. "Though I wish Mother hadn't invited absolutely everyone. I would have been quite happy with only the three of us."

"They're your family," he says, reiterating what Alex kept telling him weeks ago when she sent out the invitations. "They wanted to celebrate with you."

Nora makes a noise that indicates she knows she's hearing her mother's words come out of his mouth. "I know you didn't want them here either, you know."

He snorts softly. "Yes well, I'd rather you didn't follow in your father's footsteps in all things, poppet."

"Why not?" Nora frowns, putting aside her book. She links her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder, smiling brightly when he turns to look down at her. She's a petite little thing, he thinks fondly. Even her features are small – tiny hands, small mouth and button nose. Her eyes are huge by comparison, wide and guileless as she blinks up at him. "I think we're quite an amiable pair."

He forces back a smile, kissing her temple. "Thank you for indulging your mother."

She nods, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder and yawning. "I learned that from you."

"Well, at least I've taught you something other than violence and bloodshed," he murmurs, watching her clasp his hand. He's never seen the bracelet she's wearing around her wrist, a delicate looking, beaded thing that looks suspiciously exotic… like something a gypsy would make. He can't help wondering if Parker had actually made it himself or if he'd stolen it.

"And a love of brandy," Nora counters softly, sounding sleepy. "Don't forget that."

"Of course not." His lips quirk and he shakes his head. "Just as long as your mother never, ever finds out. She'll skin us both."

Nora shakes her head firmly. "Mother would never kill us. She has put far too much effort into us to give up now. And I imagine finding a new family would be such hard work."

Sighing, Matt kisses her temple again and rises from her bed. "Let's hope we never find out, hmm? Get some rest, silly girl."

Nora grins impishly, blue eyes bright but already half-asleep. "Goodnight, Papa."

As Nora predicted, Alex is awake and waiting for him when he finally slips into their room but

she isn't in bed. Instead, she's only just starting to take her hair down, sitting at her vanity and frowning contemplatively into the mirror.

"Pet?" He asks, concerned when she says nothing at his entrance.

For a moment, she says nothing, studying her reflection and meticulously removing pin after pin from her wild curls. Finally, she sighs and mutters, "I'm getting old."

He scowls, shutting the door behind him and loosening his cravat as he wanders up behind her. "You're not."

"Am," she replies instantly, leaning in close and examining those lines around her eyes she thinks he doesn't know she frets over. "In fact, getting old seems a bit generous. I believe I've already arrived."

He stares at her in the mirror, flummoxed. "You are utterly ridiculous."

"Yes, thank you, now I feel better." She fixes him with a reproving look in the mirror and he frowns at her, dropping a hand to press lightly against her back. She leans into the touch, finding his eyes and holding his gaze. "I don't want to be old. I want to be young and pretty."

"You've never been merely pretty," he snaps. "Pretty is vastly inadequate to describe you." She bites back a smile, dropping her eyes like she's a shy young girl instead of the woman he knows is fully capable of holding her own against not only him but thugs twice her size. "And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not quite as young as I used to be either, pet."

"You're still younger than I am." Alex lifts her chin stubbornly. "And men age more gracefully than women anyway, the whole sorry sodding lot of you."

He sighs, stooping to nuzzle his face against her sweet-smelling hair and wondering if somewhere along the way, he'd failed to show her just how attractive he will always find her. He's just as besotted with her now as he had been all those years ago, that first time she finally let him touch her. "That may be," he murmurs, enjoying the way she arches into his questing fingers. "But you are still the most beautiful creature I've ever had the fortune to marry."

Alex snorts, dropping her head and letting him trail his mouth along the elegant line of her throat.

He nips at her skin, one hand threading itself through her curls, just as soft and vibrant as they've always been, with light, almost iridescent streaks of silver twisting through golden hair. He loves the contrast. He twines a curl around his finger and marvels that he found a woman willing to put up with him for such a long time. "You've never been one to worry about aging gracefully, pet."

She sighs, turning to face him and wrapping a small hand around the back of his neck, pressing her face into his loosened cravat. "It's Nora," she says softly. "I'm worried about her."

He frowns, settling onto the vanity bench next to her and letting her cling to the front of his jacket. "What's the matter with her?"

"Nothing, darling. She's perfect." Alex laughs softly. "But she's getting older. And so are we." At his furrowed brow, she sighs patiently and takes his face in her hands. "We won't always be here, my love. I don't want her to be alone."

"She won't be alone." He frowns. "She'll have the servants. And her cousins -"

"Who will be off having their own lives," she interrupts softly. "And servants are hardly the companionship I was hoping for."

With a sense of dread as he realizes exactly where she is headed with this conversation, Matt scowls darkly. "She'll have friends."

"What friends?" Alex shakes her head. "In case you failed to notice, darling, your daughter just had a birthday celebration without one friend in attendance. She doesn't have friends. We live too far from town and quite honestly, people are too afraid of us."

He frowns, silent, and feels something twist painfully in his chest. He never meant for his reputation to affect Nora so aversely. He prefers the company of only his wife and child and other people make him cross but Nora is young and without the burdens he bears. Raising her all these years, he thought he was giving her everything she could possibly want when all along he has deprived her of the one thing even he cannot buy.

Alex brushes a thumb softly over his cheek. "I didn't bring this up to make you feel guilty, darling. I'm just as much to blame as you are."

He says nothing, unconvinced.

"I had a chat with Laura after dinner tonight," she continues cautiously, eyeing him like she knows he won't be happy with what she has to say. "She offered to help integrate Nora into society. Their reputation is much less – well, terrifying – than ours is. And with her help and the promise of marrying into our money, I believe it won't be any trouble to find Nora a suitable match." Alex bites her lip when he clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. "It's time she started thinking about suitors, darling."

"No."

"Matt -"

He shakes his head firmly. "I will not hand her over to some worthless boy who can't possibly appreciate her the way he should," he snaps. "And furthermore, I refuse to parade her about at parties and play nice so that she may find this worthless boy."

"No one is handing Nora over. She isn't a possession, darling." Alex sighs. "I'm hardly going to force her if she doesn't wish to marry someone. It will be her choice. But right now, she hasn't any options at all!"

Briefly, his mind flickers back to Parker, shy and respectful, offering Nora a small token for her birthday. He quickly shakes the thought away, unsure of just how he feels about his daughter with anyone, let alone Parker. A servant, no matter how beloved by the family, is hardly the suitable match Alex is referring to.

Tucking gentle fingers under his chin, Alex tips his head up until he looks her square in the eye, her expression soft but unmoving. She will not be swayed on this matter. His shoulders sag a little at the realization. "She deserves this," she whispers. "She deserves to find love, just as you and I did. Would you really condemn her to a life of loneliness because you want to be selfish and keep her here forever?"

He squares his jaw, feeling a muscle jump in his cheek. "If I did?"

Alex smiles, shaking her head. "You wouldn't." Her fingers slip from his chin, up to stroke his fringe from his forehead. "I know you too well, my love."

He huffs, allowing her to sidle closer and press her forehead against his, green eyes twinkling as she watches him. "She won't be happy."

"She's your daughter." Alex smirks. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

"But I don't want to get married!"

Slouched in an armchair in the parlour and looking utterly devastated, Nora gazes at them with tears swimming in her eyes, as if they'd just told her they were throwing her out of the house and forcing her to become a scullery maid. Matt shifts guiltily on the settee next to Alex, where she'd insisted he sit to show a united front. And they are united. If Alex believes this is for the best, then it is. But it doesn't make this any easier.

Beside him, Alex clings to his hand and he knows he isn't the only one struggling. The notion relaxes him somewhat and he clears his throat, managing, "No one is forcing you."

Alex nods quickly in agreement, her expression the picture of motherly understanding. "Absolutely not. I would never force you to marry someone you don't love, sweetheart, but it's time for us to stop hiding away and pretending the world doesn't exist. If you ever want to get married, you have to be more sociable. I want you to make friends, have options."

Nora crosses her arms stubbornly, lifting her chin and looking so much like her mother that Matt can't help a shudder of quiet terror. One would never guess they weren't actually related by blood. "And if I don't ever want to get married?"

"You don't mean that." Alex watches her with infinite patience, her eyes soft and knowing under Nora's chilly gaze. "No one wants to be alone forever, my love. Even your father could only stand the isolation for so long before he had to trick my parents into giving him a wife." She smirks and Matt glares her. "Not that I fault him for his taste."

She relinquishes his hand to stroke his cheek and Nora rolls her eyes at them. "Are you telling me to kidnap my groom?"

"Of course not." Alex drops her hand with a frown. "And your father never kidnapped me. I went willingly. Don't be disagreeable just because you're cross."

Nora harrumphs, glowering at the floor with such intensity Matt wonders how she doesn't set the rug alight. He glances at Alex, at a loss, but she isn't looking at him. Instead, she's studying their daughter with quiet contemplation, biting her lip thoughtfully.

Finally, she straightens and reaches for Matt's hand again, lacing their fingers together as she begins softly, "Nora, my love…" She trails off, waiting for Nora to lift her eyes from the floor. "The money you'll inherit will be more than enough to take care of you. You hardly need to marry for financial security. I only wish for you to have a lifelong companion, so if you would prefer more feminine company -"

Eyes widening, Nora gapes at her in silence.

"I'm sure there are plenty of lovely young girls out there who would adore you. It would never be a legal union, of course, but I hardly care about that -"

"Mother!" Nora is positively shrill and Alex halts mid-sentence, jumping a little. Matt tightens his grip on her fingers and offers Nora a reproving look. She instantly lowers her voice, still looking pink-cheeked and mortified. "I am not – that is, I don't -" She huffs. "Female companionship won't be necessary."

"Oh, very well." Alex smiles brightly. "Then a male you shall have, my love."

Exasperated, Nora slouches back in her seat with a groan.

With Alex's blessing, Laura had spared no expense when preparing for Nora's coming out into society party and apparently it has had the intended result because the manor is brimming with potential suitors and their parents. As Matt walks through the house, weaving his way in and out of the endless sea of people in search of his wife, he tries his best to avoid direct eye contact with anyone, lest they try to stop him for a chat. The last thing he wants is for them to get the impression he has softened in any way merely because they've been invited into his home.

More people accepted the invitation than Alex had ever dreamed but Matt had known his daughter

would fetch a substantial array of people willing to form an alliance – those who are afraid of him and wish to align themselves out of some notion about keeping their enemies closer, and those who merely desire the financial security that marriage to Nora would give.

Matt grimaces as he moves through the crowd. Not one family is here specifically because of Nora, but because of what she can give them. It's hardly the sort of match he hoped for the girl. As he glares at the money-hungry families around him clambering to be introduced to his daughter and whore out their sons in the process, Matt finally spots Alex across the room, lingering near the staircase with a glass of champagne and looking just as tortured as he feels.

With a sigh, he snags the elbow of a waiter wandering the room with a tray of h'ordeurves. He ignores the young man's wide eyes and nods toward Alex with a gruff, "Lady Smith is hungry."

As the man nods hurriedly and makes his way toward Alex, Matt watches closely. She hasn't eaten all day and he's determined to make sure she remains in good spirits tonight even if he can't quite manage it himself.

Across the room, Alex smiles politely and waves away the young man and his tray. The waiter glances uneasily to Matt in the crowd, who glares and nods at him. The young man tries again, whispering something to Alex that makes her lift her head and search out Matt in the crowd.

Spying him watching her like a hawk, she purses her lips and just manages to refrain from rolling her eyes, snatching an h'ordeurve from the tray with a lifted brow as if to say happy now?

He narrows his eyes, waiting for her to take a bite.

This time, she does roll her eyes, but he smirks as she pops the whole thing into her mouth, immediately washing it down with a gulp of champagne. He nods his approval to the waiter, who looks relieved as he scurries away.

Slowly, Matt begins to wend his way through the crowded room toward his wife and she watches his approach with a small smile on her red lips, looking resplendent in a deep, rich gown of the same color. Her hair, swept up on top of her head, glitters every so often under the lights, showing off the small rubies woven through her curls. She looks befitting of some sort of dark goddess, like she belongs on the arm of Hades himself – proud and regal and unwilling to show mercy. By the time he reaches her side, Matt is just a little more in love with her than before. Even after all these years, she still makes his heart race.

"Enjoying your party, my dear?"

She eyes him with a trace of exasperation. "It isn't my party. Unless you're hoping to hand me off to some younger man." She lifts a brow. "Can't keep up with me anymore, darling?"

He presses a possessive hand against the small of her back, growling softly against her temple, and the smugness nearly radiates from her. "I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

She hums, tilting her head to regard him with a smile. "Good."

The urge to lean forward and kiss her in a room full of people is overwhelming and he quickly breaks eye contact, clearing his throat gruffly while Alex hides a pleased smile. "How is she?"

"Bored to tears, I imagine." She sighs, linking her arm through his and leaning into him, her warmth a comforting presence seeping into his side. "Not that I blame her. I never had to go through this sort of thing, thank heaven."

They both got lucky in that respect – no one else had wanted them and all that was left to do was wait patiently for each other. He wouldn't have had it any other way. "She may not find anyone who strikes her fancy," he cautions softly.

Alex nods, wringing her hands. "I know. But first impressions are often wrong – as you well know." She barely suppresses a smile, lifting her gaze to his and waiting for his faint nod. "Once this is over, boys will start coming to call on her. She'll be able to get to know them away from the crowds and the party. There's still hope."

He knows she means it to be encouraging but the idea of young men coming to call on Nora makes him clench his teeth. Through the crowd, he spots Nora across the room, looking lovely and a bit on edge with Laura at her elbow, introducing her to some nervous-looking fellow who fumbles with his cup of punch and blushes as he mutters a greeting. Laura pats them both on the shoulder, looking satisfied with her attempt at playing matchmaker, and glides away to no doubt order the waiters about.

Nora glances away from the boy, looking bored but somehow managing to remain polite and interested in the process as he begins talking to her hesitantly. He's a lanky thing, freckled and tall. Matt frowns, wondering if his daughter could possibly stoop to marrying a ginger. Surely they aren't quite that desperate yet.

Alex strokes her fingers over his balled fist soothingly, directing his attention to the couple approaching them. "Mr. and Mrs. Allen," she calls, mostly for his benefit, smiling widely. "How

are you this evening? Enjoying yourselves?"

She nudges Matt, who doesn't quite manage a smile but attempts not to look like he loathes their very existence. Mrs. Allen eyes him nervously anyway. "Of course," she says, directing her gaze back to his no less intimidating wife. "Thank you for inviting us, Lady Smith."

Alex tilts her head in acknowledgement. "How is your son? Leonard, was it?"

"Bernard," Mrs. Allen corrects, brown eyes flitting between Matt and Alex with uncertainty. "And he's very excited to be here. In fact, he's talking with your lovely daughter right now -" She gestures across the room, where only seconds ago, Nora had been attempting a polite conversation with the ginger boy. Now, however, Nora is nowhere to be seen and Bernard stands alone, looking abashed as he studies the punch in his cup.

Mrs. Allen furrows her brow.

Alex pastes on a frozen smile but the twinkle in her eyes is somewhere between amused and murderous. "My, the silly girl can never sit still," she says in a light voice that tells him between the two, she's closer to picking murderous.

Mrs. Allen attempts a befuddled smile, looking disappointed.

"Darling," Alex says, as Matt idly scans the room and does not see their daughter anywhere. "Why don't fetch her?" She turns back to Mr. and Mrs. Allen, still wearing that eerily still smile. "Such a shy thing."

He snorts under his breath, sliding his fingers softly over her elbow before slipping away and leaving her to dull chatter with the Allens. A quick search of the first floor reveals his daughter has somehow managed to escape the party so he heads upstairs and checks her chambers before wandering back down the stairs to the kitchens.

Iris, who had taken charge of the cooking after Hobbs left them to marry, stands over a stove looking harried and overheated, flicking sweat-damp hair from her eyes. Matt almost hates to interrupt her but he clears his throat anyway and ventures, "Haven't seen the imp, have you?"

Iris smiles despite how overworked she seems tonight, shaking her head. "Escaped, did she?"

"So it seems." He frowns, whirling to check elsewhere but Iris calls him back. He turns, eyeing her curiously. "Yes?"

She flushes, looking hesitant. "Nothing, Master Smith. Just… you might want to check the stables is all."

"The stables?" He asks in surprise, brows lifting. "Why would she be -"

Iris bites her lip, looking away guiltily.

Matt huffs, muttering his thanks, and turns on his heel, stalking out of the kitchen and down the corridor. Nora has always loved spending time in the stables with the horses, ever since she arrived when she was only a bit of a girl. She spends more time with her horse out on the moors than she does with actual people but lately, he's suspected she has an ulterior motive – at least since Parker started chaperoning her horseback riding and helping Benson care for the horses.

The two spend an inordinate amount of time together and always have. Parker used to look after her when she was a child and quite honestly, he never stopped, but things have changed recently. He doesn't look at Nora like his adorable little charge any longer and Nora no longer insults him and tortures him with her childish games. Instead, she steals peeks at him from beneath her lashes and teases him just to make him flustered. She drags him out onto the moors and everywhere else she pleases, more often than not getting the two of them into trouble Parker always has to get them out of.

Matt has tried his best to ignore what has been slowly developing between them. Parker is practically like a son to him and he's slowly been allowing him more and more responsibilities in his business. One day, he'd quite like to hand the whole thing over to the boy, once he's learned enough and built his own formidable reputation among their clients. Even so, he's hardly a suitable match for Nora.

Walking outside and into the night away from the bustling party is like a balm to his nerves and he exhales quietly, his breath ghosting in the chilly air. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat, he walks slowly in the direction of the stables, taking his time. As he approaches, he can hear the teasing lilt of Nora's voice over the soft neighing of the horses.

"Not like that, idiot," she says, and Matt peers around the corner to see her batting Parker's hands away from Cerberus dark mane. "Here, like this. Mother taught me." He watches in silence as she deftly twists a small section of hair into a thick, neat braid. "See?"

Parker huffs, looking stranded between amusement and outrage. "That's what I was doing, isn't it?"

She shakes her head, laughing softly. "Hardly. Your hands are too clumsy."

He shrugs, glancing down at them with a frown. "Suppose so. Though it isn't often my hands are required to do silly things like braid."

"Silly? How dare you." Nora flicks her own braid over her shoulder and glares at him, looking completely out of place in her elaborate gown standing in the mucky stables with a servant boy. "It isn't silly just because you're rubbish at it, you know."

Parker looks contrite, ducking his head and letting his dark hair slip into his brown eyes. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he smiles softly and admits, "Sorry. You're right."

Nora eyes him suspiciously, clearly unused to any apologies from the young man. "Really?" She stands a little straighter. "I mean, of course I am. Good of you to admit it for once."

"For -" Parker snorts. "You're impossible. I pity the poor soul in there who'll end up having to put up with you!"

Nora freezes, the smile dropping from her face, and Parker flinches, glancing away. "Nora -"

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Don't."

"You know I -"

"It doesn't matter, does it?" She lifts her head, eyes shining. "What good will it do us to admit it? Nothing will ever come of it because you respect my father more than you care for me."

"It isn't like that," he says, scowling as he reaches for her. "This isn't easy for me either, you know."

"Yes, hiding out here in the stables while I'm paraded about like a prize to be won," she snaps, blue eyes full of ice. "I can't imagine what you must be going through, poor thing."

"That isn't fair and you know it," he counters angrily, wrapping a hand around her delicate wrist. "You think I like seeing you like this? You think I won't be in agony every single time one of those money-grubbing simpletons comes to call? What do you want me to do? Your father will toss me out without even blinking. We'd never see each other again!"

"You're right." Nora lifts her chin, tears in her eyes as she lingers in his grasp. "This is so much better."

Parker flinches, dropping his eyes. "I don't know what to do."

"I won't marry any of them," she whispers. "Mother and Father won't force me."

"So you can become a lonely old maid?" He shakes his head. "I don't want that for you."

"Then perhaps you should do something about it," she says angrily. "You're wrong about my father. He loves us both. He would want us to be happy."

"Of course he would," Parker sighs. "But not together. I'm not – I'm not nearly good enough -"

"Don't you dare." Nora glares openly at him, fingers curling tightly around his. "Don't you dare even think you aren't good enough for me, you complete pillock."

Matt has heard enough. Chest aching and eyes burning, he clenches his jaw and steps into view. "Funny," he says quietly, but loud enough to make them both jump apart, looking guilty and wide-eyed. "This doesn't look like the party your mother and Laura spent weeks preparing for you."

Chin wobbling dangerously, Nora sniffs and meets his eyes, clearly wondering if he'd heard anything. Her ivory skin is flushed from the cold and embarrassment at being caught. Matt keeps his face carefully blink, dark eyes sliding from her to Parker, who scuffs at the ground with his boot and studiously avoids Matt's hard stare. "I'm sorry, Father. I just wanted a bit of air."

With a jerk of his head, Matt turns back to Nora. "Back inside."

She nods hurriedly, casting one last look at Parker before gathering her skirts in hand and walking swiftly to follow Matt out of the stables. She nearly trips in her haste to keep up with him, panting a little. "Papa, if you heard -"

He ignores her, mind still reeling from all that he'd overheard. He can't talk about it now. He needs time to think before he says anything about what just transpired between his daughter and his most favored right hand man. "Your mother went through a lot of trouble and a troubling amount of money to give you this party," he bites instead. "The least you can do is attend it."

"I was attending it!" Nora grabs his arm and makes him slow his rapid pace. "I told you, I just wanted some air. It's suffocating in there. And I never asked Mother to do any of this -"

"She's doing it for you."

"I don't want it!"

"You don't want it now." He stops walking, turning to face her just outside of the manor. The house is lit up from within, glowing warmly, and the sound of people inside can be heard from here, laughter and chatter the likes of which hasn't filled the house the entire time Matt has lived there. He probably shouldn't hate it as much as he does. "You will later." His mind drifts back to the stables. "No one is forcing you to marry now. Just be friendly, for god's sake. Make contacts." He settles a gentle hand on her shoulder as she frowns up at him but his gaze hardens. "But first, go inside and apologize to your mother."

Nora deflates instantly, all righteous indignation leaving her in an instant. "Is she angry with me?"

He sighs. "I believe she's more concerned that you're angry with her."

"She said that?"

"She would never." He smirks. "But I know."

Nora chews on her bottom lip, a terrible habit she'd picked up from Alex. "I never meant to make her think that."

"Of course not." He frowns. Alex and Nora are far more alike than either of them are willing to admit and they clash as mother and daughter often do but even an idiot could see how they adore each other. Nora seeks her approval far more often than she possibly even realizes. "But you might want to mention it to her."

They find Alex near the roaring fire when they make their way back inside and Matt realizes with amusement that she had somehow managed to escape the likes of Mr. and Mrs. Allen. Nora crosses the room and latches onto her mother, wrapping thin arms tightly around her. Alex stares over her shoulder at Matt in stunned silence but he merely shrugs, eyeing her fondly.

Slowly, Alex wraps her arms around her daughter's petite frame, drawing her close. "Not that I'm complaining, lovely," she says. "But what's all this then?"

Nora buries her face in her neck. "I'm sorry, Mum. I've been such a wretch lately."

"Well…" Alex sighs, smiling. "Yes, you have."

Nora laughs, clutching her all the tighter.

Alex smoothes back her daughter's hair, lifting her head to cup her sweet face in her hands. "But you learned from the best, I suppose."

They both turn to look at Matt and he has the oddest feeling of being turned against. He scowls at them, uncomfortable under their equally piercing stares, and they giggle, leaning into each other. "You're right," Nora says. "I never stood a chance, did I?"

"Ah, but he's our grumpy bugger," Alex points out, her eyes soft as she watches him.

He forces back a smile to see them getting along again after weeks of bickering but he must not quite manage it because Nora grins outright, turning to kiss her mother's cheek.

The quiet family moment in the midst of the lively party is broken as Laura bustles over to them with another boy in tow, her smile wide. "Nora, love, I want you to meet this lovely young man. His father owns his a winery, isn't that fascinating?"

Matt watches carefully as Nora pastes on a polite smile but her heart isn't in it. As she fiddles anxiously with the bracelet on her wrist – a delicate, beaded piece of jewelry entirely out of place with her elegant gown – he knows with a pang that her heart is somewhere else entirely.

"She's in love with the boy."

Alex lifts her head from her pillow, half-asleep and frowning adorably. "Sorry?"

He's been struggling with how to tell her for days, not quite sure what her reaction will be, but he hasn't kept anything like this from his wife since the early days of their marriage before she made him promise – no more secrets. Since then, it's become such a habit that he's been having trouble not just blurting it out over dinner with Nora sitting right there with them.

Suitors have come every day to see Nora and she hasn't shown the slightest interest in any of them, always escaping to the stables the first moment she can get away without being impolite. Armed with his new knowledge, Matt hasn't tried to stop her but he can't help feeling conflicted. He doesn't know what the right thing is and he won't know until Alex tells him. He needs her and keeping her in the dark about Nora and her feelings for Parker has been making him feel wretched anyway.

Next to him, Alex sits up and peers down at him. "Darling?"

He's been wide awake for an hour, long after Alex pulled a sheet up to her naked chest and curled sleepily into his side, breathing softly into his skin. He simply can't spend another night bearing the burden alone. "She's in love with -"

Alex lights up, scrambling beneath the sheet to crawl onto his lap eagerly. "She finally found one she fancied? Oh, darling – why didn't she tell me?" She looks hurt for only an instant before the overwhelming happiness takes over again, leaving her beaming excitedly down at him. "Oh, I'm so glad. I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn't have invited girls after all. So who is he? Did we meet him at the party?"

He shakes his head, caught between reluctance to tell her and distraction at having her very naked and warm in his lap. "Not exactly, no."

She frowns, some of her excitement fading at his evasiveness. "Who then? I still can't believe she told you before she told me."

"She didn't tell me, pet. I overheard her talking to him."

The spark of intrigue that lights up her eyes is quickly squashed as she tries to look stern. "Darling, were you eavesdropping?"

He squirms. "Not on purpose. You told me to find her -"

"Hang on, at the party? She fell in love at the party?" Alex looks positively delighted and he regrets that he'll have to snatch it all away from her in a moment.

"No, I believe it's been happening under our noses for quite some time," he says with a scowl, unhappy just thinking about it. At least he knows Parker is far too afraid of him to ever actually touch Nora.

All excitement gone now, Alex shifts on his lap and fists the sheet in her hand. "I don't understand."

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face before dragging his fingers through his hair. "It's Parker."

"Parker?" Alex repeats, staring at him. "Our Parker?"

He nods, waiting.

Alex slowly slips off his lap and from the bed, dragging the sheet with her and leaving him bare. Her face blank, she begins to pace in silence. Matt sighs, reaching for his trousers.

She whirls to look at him suddenly, eyes wide. "Parker? Are you sure?"

"Unless they were practicing for some sort of very elaborate theatre production, I'm positive, my dear."

"But -" Alex shakes her head, fisting a hand in her curls before finally bursting out, "But he's too old for her!"

He barely suppresses a snort of laughter. "Eleven years between them is hardly anything. And you have very little room to talk, pet. You practically robbed the cradle, remember?"

She flushes, glaring, and looks more fetching than any woman has a right to wrapped in just a sheet. "You were doing the robbing, darling."

"Semantics," he counters, and sinks down onto the edge of their bed, patting the space next to him. Reluctantly, she joins him, settling onto the mattress and pressing her shoulder into his. He turns his head, kissing her temple. "What now?"

"I don't know," she confesses.

Glad that at least he isn't alone, Matt wraps an arm around her waist and waits patiently, sitting in silence while Alex gathers her thoughts. He's had a couple of days to get over the shock so he won't deny her the same if she needs it.

Thankfully, Alex is faster to process information than he is and after a few minutes, she muses aloud with a smile, "Parker, hmm?" She looks amused by the prospect. It's exactly the opposite of what he expected. Though to be honest, he wasn't sure what he expected. Alex has always been full of surprises. "I suppose it makes sense."

He grunts.

"You know," she says, her smile growing, "Now that I think about it, I have no idea why I didn't see it before. They spend so much time together and he's so protective of her but I never -" She sighs, frowning. "Why didn't she tell us?"

"She wanted to," he says gruffly. "I got the distinct feeling Parker didn't. Thought we'd toss him out and never let him see her again."

Alex makes a quiet noise of disbelief. "Silly boy," she scoffs. "How could he possibly think we'd do a thing like that? You treat him like a son and I -" She takes his hand, pursing her lips. "He was the first one I trusted here. This adorable little gypsy boy who looked after me and called me Missus." She smiles fondly. "I loved him even before I loved you."

He squeezes her hip, thoughtful as she leans against him.

"Well." Alex sighs. "I suppose you'll just have to set him straight."

He glances at her, brows raised.

Her eyes narrow and she looks every inch the fierce mother protecting her young. "For one thing, he'd better take very good care of our baby."

Matt blinks in surprise. "You're alright with our daughter marrying a servant?" He smirks at her. "What would people say?"

"You and I know very well Parker has always been more than a servant. He's like family. We might as well make it official." She sniffs, tossing her curls. "And I don't give a toss what people say as long as Nora is happy."

"There's my Alex," he murmurs, leaning in to kiss her soundly. "I thought I'd lost you."

He finds the boy in the stables, brushing down Nora's horse with particular care. He's always spoiled Nora's mare but Matt never paid much attention until now, lingering just outside the stables and watching him work. The signs have been there all along. He just hadn't bothered looking.

Parker has been a favorite of his since Matt found him – the first little boy to ever join the misfit orphans who work for him. Nora had been right about what she said the other night in the stables

– he does want Parker to be happy, even if it means being with Matt's beloved little girl if that's what she wants. He can't help feeling relieved that she'd known despite all his bluster that her happiness was more than enough to satisfy him.

"When you're through here," he begins, ignoring Parker when he jumps at the sudden sound of his voice. "I'd like you to meet me in my study. I have some work for you."

Parker grins, as pleased as ever to be given a task, and nods, "Yes, Sir." The boy is never happy unless he's busy – something Matt has always admired about him. "Finally going to trust me with that walking stick?"

Mouth twitching in amusement, Matt walks slowly toward him, watching him lead Nora's horse back into its stall. "You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hand, boy."

Parker wriggles his brows. "Could be arranged."

"What was that? Did you say you wanted a lashing?"

The boy laughs brightly, brushing dark hair from his forehead. "That threat might work if I could remember the last time you ever raised a hand to me, Sir."

Matt harrumphs. "You would certainly deserve it if I did. Most impertinent footman I've ever had, you are."

"But still your favorite," he counters cheekily.

Matt ducks his head, nodding grimly. "Quite."

Parker stares at him, stunned by the admission, though they've both always known it was true. "Sir?"

"I have something a bit more precious to trust you with than a walking stick." Matt lifts his head, hazel eyes piercing into Parker's with just enough menace to keep the boy silent and still, holding

his gaze. "You'll take care of her."

It isn't a question but a threat – one both men know he'll have no trouble making good on.

Parker swallows audibly. "Master Smith, I -"

"There's no sense in denying it. I heard everything the other night."

Parker shakes his head. "I wasn't going to. I just wanted to say we've done nothing behind your back. I would never -"

"Lucky for you, boy, I know that." Matt eyes him meaningfully. "I trust you."

Parker flushes, eyes dropping to the floor. "That," he pauses, clearing his throat. "That means a great deal to me, Sir."

"And Nora means a great deal to her mother and me. We're trusting you with her, Parker."

He lifts his head again, nodding shakily. "I understand, Sir. I'll take care of her, I promise you."

Matt nods once, turning swiftly to go back to the manor.

"Sir?"

He pauses, looking back to Parker, who regards him with shining eyes. "Thank you."

Matt nods again, feeling rather inept. Alex should have come with him instead of volunteering to distract Nora from her morning ride long enough offer Parker their blessing. She'd left him alone with this task on purpose, damn her.

"We've had a lot of young men come to call," he says fumblingly, eyes darting from Parker to the

floor and back again. "There isn't one of them Alex or I would trust with our daughter more than you." He clears his throat gruffly. "We couldn't have asked for better."

Parker looks like he might hug him and Matt is immensely grateful to hear Nora calling as she runs from the manor, dressed in her riding trousers and boots, long hair flying freely in the wind as she heads for the stables, grinning widely. "Parker, I've managed to talk Mother into sending away my suitors for the day and -"

She freezes in the doorway at the sight of Matt, nearly stumbling in surprise. Blinking innocently, she glances between her father and Parker, looking anxious. "Father? Is everything alright?"

Smiling a little, Matt nods beckons her closer. "I was just having a chat with your fiancé."

Nora gapes at him.

"Well, soon, I imagine." He glances back at Parker, frowning. "You are planning to marry her, aren't you? I never got around to asking your intentions."

Parker grins, nodding with uncharacteristic shyness as he glances behind Matt to Nora, who still hasn't moved. "If she'll have me."

"Good man."

"Papa?" Nora looks to him, blue eyes wide and bright with tears. "Really?"

He nods once awkwardly, quite ready to escape the entire situation before he finds himself in the middle of a group hug. "Really."

Nora squeals in delight, crossing the distance between them in an instance and throwing herself into his arms. Matt stumbles but catches himself, wrapping his arms tightly around the petite frame of his little girl. He breathes in the sweet scent of her hair and marvels at how quickly time has passed. It seems he only just brought her home on the back of his horse, this tiny, filthy creature with a healthy appetite and rags for clothes. And now she's a woman – fully-grown and absolutely beautiful, with Alex's spirit and his temper. He doesn't know how he'll manage to let go.

Nora clings to his shirt collar, sniffling. "Thank you, Papa."

He kisses her temple, a lump forming in his throat.

She lifts her head with hopeful eyes. "And Mother?"

"Is probably writing up an announcement for the paper as we speak."

Nora laughs, looking happier than he's seen her in weeks as she steps out of his arms. Part of him wants to pull her back and cling to her, refusing to ever let go. His fingers linger on the cuff of her sleeve for only a moment before she's gone, rushing to Parker. More prepared for the flurry of dark hair and limbs launching at him, Parker doesn't stumble. Instead he laughs, holding Nora to him like she's something to be treasured and revered, his face buried in her hair.

Matt glances away, his jaw clenched and his eyes stinging.

Alex is waiting for him when he steps into the manor, pausing in the middle of pacing anxiously. She doesn't speak, taking one look at his face before crossing the room and pulling him into her arms, his very own pillar of strength and understanding. He clings to her, burying his face in her curls.

She rubs her hand soothingly up and down his back. "You did the right thing."

He grunts.

She laughs softly, mouth brushing his ear. "You made them both happy."

"We've lost her," he mumbles into her neck.

"Hardly." She huffs quietly, fingers inching into his hair. "Parker works for you – where is he going to go?"

He lifts his head, understanding dawning. "Nowhere."

Alex winks.

"You -" He stops, frowning. "You thought of this last night, didn't you?"

Her smile twists into something terribly smug and oh, his brilliant little minx. He knew she was taking the news awfully well for a reason. Eyes tracing tenderly over his face, she says, "We're not losing her, darling. If anything, we've just made sure we'll never ever have to be without her."

She taps his chin and he snaps his mouth shut.

Sighing happily, she snuggles against his chest. "Think of the grandchildren."

He scowls. "I'd rather not."

Alex laughs, kissing just beneath his jaw. "You'll be happy when you have them."

"I'll be happy when you talk of something else," he snaps half-heartedly.

She lifts her head, grinning and undeterred. "You know, there is a way to get me to stop talking altogether but perhaps you'd like to discuss how many children they'll have. Nora is such a small thing but -"

He kisses her, threading his hands through her curls and drawing her roughly into him, silencing her in the only way he has ever figured out how. Alex grins into his mouth, hands cupping his face, and just for a little while, he allows her to distract him from all thoughts of losing their only baby or their baby having babies.

It isn't until much later in the day that he thinks on the subject again, sitting alone in his study and staring at an old drawing Nora had given him when she was a little girl – a crude sketch of her, Alex and himself standing outside the manor. He can still remember her little face when she gave it to him, the shy smile and the hopeful eyes until he praised her artwork and lifted her onto his knee. The way she'd snuggled close and kissed his cheek, her little hands fiddling with his cravat.

He quickly blinks away the sting in his eyes and stuffs the drawing back into the drawer he'd found it in. But…

Perhaps grandchildren might be nice.

In a few years.

Or twenty.

swear to love him wicked, swear to love him holy

Chapter Summary

She only just moved into his chambers last week and sometimes, despite the things they've done together and how quickly and easily their relationship has changed, she can't help feeling a little shy around her gruff husband, particularly when it comes to matters so intimate.

Chapter Notes

Part fifteen of the Persephone series. Written as a fill for an Anonymous request. Story title from On Loving A Monster by Emily Palermo.

She only just moved into his chambers last week and sometimes, despite the things they've done together and how quickly and easily their relationship has changed, she can't help feeling a little shy around her gruff husband, particularly when it comes to matters so intimate.

Sitting on their bed with her shift gathered clumsily around her hips and her cheeks flushed red, she ducks her head and worries her lip between her teeth. Only moments ago, they'd been wrapped around each other and Matt was kissing her so deeply she couldn't breathe but then he'd started trailing his hot mouth down her neck, drawing her shift up over her legs as he mumbled, "Let me see how you touch yourself."

Alex had frozen beneath him, hot and cold all over, and he'd noticed instantly – he pays attention, her new husband, even when she'd rather he didn't. He'd lifted his head and sat back on his knees, eyeing her calmly. Now, he watches her avoid his gaze and attempts a soft, "Alex?"

"I haven't, that is, I've never -" She swallows, mortified. "I don't know how."

She expects him to laugh at her inexperience or at the very least tease her for it, and she quickly tries to shove her shift back around her knees where it belongs. At his continued silence, she tucks her hair nervously behind her ears and risks a glance at him to find him watching her with the same adoration he always does. There is no humor in his gaze.

"I'm sorry," she says anyway, fidgeting. "I didn't mean to ruin the mood."

He snorts softly, reaching out a warm hand to stroke her knee. "You didn't ruin anything. I shouldn't have asked."

"No!" She lifts her head, startled at her own vehemence. She likes it that he's so open with her when they're together like this. She likes that he isn't afraid to talk to her, to ask her for something he wants. It's only fair, considering how often he relents to her whispered pleas. "I don't mind, darling. I like it."

His fingers slip up her thigh, drawing delicate, swirling patterns over her skin. She shudders, letting her legs fall open once more, but he ventures no further, still watching her closely. "I wasn't thinking. Your parents raised you Catholic and you've never had any other lovers -" He pauses here and she imagines he's trying very hard not to look pleased by this but he doesn't quite manage it, to her amusement. "Of course you don't know how."

She places her hand over his on her thigh, feeling brave under that gentle gaze. "Would you teach me?"

Whatever she asks, he always gives her if it's in his power to do so and this time is no different. He offers a crooked grin and nods, withdrawing his hand from beneath her shift. He settles against the headboard of their bed. "Come here, pet."

She crawls to him, her heart pounding eagerly, and he helps her settle between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. He's a warm, comforting weight behind her and she likes the soft rise and fall of his chest at her back as he breathes.

Mouth brushing her ear, he tugs at her shift and orders quietly, "Take this off."

She scrambles to do so, lifting the thin shift up and over her head, tossing it to the foot of the bed. The fire burning in the grate keeps her from feeling too chilly but she still shudders as the air hits her newly exposed skin, leaning back into her husband's warmth. He chuckles softly, big hands trailing up her arms and down her sides. His roaming fingers find her breasts and she lets her head fall back against his shoulder as he cups them in his hands, thumbs brushing over her pebbled nipples.

He drops his head to press a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Feel good?" He rumbles.

Of course it does. He knows it does.

She nods, biting her lip.

"Give me your hand," he says softly. She slips her palm into his and he guides it up to her chest. As she cups the weight of her breast, her instinct is to squeeze lightly and she does, earning a rumble of approval from Matt. "There you go," he breathes. "Just that way. Feel how lovely you are."

He surprises her by drawing her hand up to his mouth, licking her fingers. Her eyes flutter and he closes her fingers around her nipple, tightening his grip to make her pinch hard. She gasps, pressing her thighs together. "Darling -"

He hums softly right against her ear, the sound rumbling in his chest and right against her back. Together, they trail her fingers slowly down the valley between her breasts to her belly. Matt strokes her fingers over her skin, up and down her sides, finding all the spots that make her bite her lip and shift back against him, feeling him stiff and swollen against the curve of her bum.

"It's important to find where you're most sensitive," he instructs quietly against the shell of her ear. "Sometimes in places you wouldn't expect." He strokes her fingers over the inside of her wrist and she bites her lip. "Like here. Or here." Their fingers touch her collarbone, tracing the delicate lines carefully, and Alex whimpers, tilting her head back and spilling her hair over her shoulder. Matt nudges it out of the way, mouthing at her skin. "There are no rules, pet. Only what makes you aroused."

The sound of his voice alone is more than enough but she nods anyway, swallowing thickly. "W-where else?"

"What about here?" Ever so lightly, he rakes her nails across her hips, teasing her into another soft, wanton noise. He seems to enjoy the sound, pressing another kiss to the curve of her neck, wetter and just a touch biting this time.

She drops the hand he isn't holding to grip his thigh, fingers curling into his trousers. "Lower," she pleads, breathless.

He slides their joined hands between her legs, stroking her inner thighs and tracing whorls and patterns on her skin. Alex makes a soft noise of frustration and spreads her legs wider, drawing her knees up. Every single brush of their fingers on her skin sends heat trickling up her spine and

flaring low in her belly. She can feel sweat beginning to collect on her skin and she shifts again, deliberately pushing back against the bulge in Matt's trousers.

He hisses, nipping at her shoulder. "Behave." She pouts, turning her head, and he nuzzles his nose beneath her jaw. "I'm trying to teach you something, distracting minx."

She doesn't apologize but she turns back to the task at hand, watching their joined hands inch closer and closer to the throbbing warmth between her thighs. He teases her first, moving to pet the wiry curls around her sex, their fingers brushing over the coarse hair. Alex huffs impatiently, squirming, and he nips at her skin with his teeth in warning. She settles against him again, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her back.

The moment she settles placidly against him, letting him drag her hand where he will, he finally gives her what she wants. Their fingers brush lightly over her folds and behind her, she hears Matt's breath catch in his throat. "Let's find out how wet we've made you, hmm?"

She nods hurriedly, fingers twisting in the fabric of his trousers.

He heaves a quiet, heavenly little sigh when they push past the folds of her sex and find her as swollen and slick as she'd known she would be. She bites her lip against a whimper and Matt breathes hotly against the back of her neck. "Oh yes," he murmurs. "Feel how slippery you are?"

Her voices shakes as he drags their fingers up and down her sex, teasing her, but she manages a soft, "Uh-huh."

He laughs quietly at her incoherence, placing a soft kiss at her shoulder. "We'll take our time," he says. "I want you to know what you want and where you like to be touched."

She draws in a trembling breath, heels digging into the mattress as he presses their fingers hard against her entrance. "Anywhere you touch me is where I liked to be touched, darling."

His tongue darts out, tracing over the curve of her shoulder, and she shudders. "I don't want you to be afraid to ask for what you want, understand?"

She nods, licking her lips.

"Now," he rumbles, and outlines her dripping folds with their fingers. "What is this called?"

She blushes, shrugging.

He kisses her neck and whispers a filthy sounding word against her skin. "You can't tell me where you want my tongue if you don't know what it's called, can you?"

She shakes her head, her insides trembling, and repeats the word just to show him she's paying attention. He rewards her with a deep, satisfying stroke that makes her moan.

Enjoying the sound, he draws it out by letting their index fingers press briefly inside, just enough to prolong her quiet moans and make her hand dig into his thigh. And then he's withdrawing and sliding back up again. She nearly growls in frustration and he huffs out a breathless chuckle into her hair, hovering their fingers right over the top of her sex.

"Do you know what this is?"

She bites her lip, shaking her head. She doesn't know what it's called but she does know that every single time Matt touches her there, she feels as though she'll fly apart in his arms.

He circles their fingers lightly over the swollen little nub, making her breath hitch in her throat. "Feels amazing though, hmm?"

She giggles through her pleasure, humming. "Darling, you have no idea."

He smiles into her shoulder and it's such a rare occurrence to see him outright grin that she almost turns around just to catch a glimpse. "I have some idea, pet." He stops directly touching her, making her fingers trace just around the little button, torturing her. "You make the most delightful noises when I touch it."

She moans, shifting her hips.

"The clitoris is quite sensitive," he continues softly. "And absolutely necessary for orgasm."

Heavens, she loves hearing him talk like this. She has no idea how he manages to make everything sound so technical and yet still so utterly lewd but it makes her skin prickle and she writhes in his arms. He keeps up the delicious torment, using her own fingers to stroke and circle and toy with her clitoris until all she can do is whine and tug at his trouser leg, arching her back.

He doesn't let up. Instead, he makes it worse by pressing her fingers hard against that aching, sensitive little spot. She releases a shocked gasp, hips jerking, and his lips curl into a smirk against her neck. "Darling, you're supposed to be teaching me, not torturing me," she snaps, panting.

"Can't I do both?" He sounds amused, damn him. Even so, he finally abandons her clitoris and guides her with tantalizing slowness back to her entrance, circling their fingers over her opening. "Ready?"

She bites back a snippy, impatient remark, breathing in deeply. Focusing on the solid weight of him behind her, the increased rhythm of his heart against her back, the soft exhalations against the side of her neck, Alex lets go of the tension mounting in her body and suddenly feels nothing but overwhelming love and gratitude for the man holding her in his arms. He hasn't once made her feel silly or inexperienced, hasn't once tried to make her do anything she wasn't comfortable with. He has been patient and gentle and very, frustratingly thorough. Somehow, she loves him more now than she had when they'd tumbled into bed a few minutes ago.

She turns her head, smiling when he kisses her jaw tenderly. "I'm ready, my love."

At her assent, Matt guides her hand and together, they slip into the silken warmth of her body. She inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut, and concentrates on the feeling of his fingers and hers slowly inching into her as her body adjusts to the fullness of their invasion. Two of his fingers and two of hers, pressed snugly inside and oh god, is this what he feels every time he thrusts? It's absolutely sinful and she's terribly glad she doesn't care about such things anymore.

"God in heaven," she breathes, rattled. "Is this what it feels like for you?"

"What?"

"So unbearably warm and -" She fumbles for a moment, distracted by their efforts. "Tight."

"Possibly," he rumbles, mouthing at her ear. "But more. Imagine how sensitive your clitoris is, but

everywhere."

She groans, suddenly hot all over. "No wonder you always make that wicked little noise."

She makes a similar noise now, lips parting on a breathy moan as Matt stifles an amused chuckle and withdraws their fingers, thrusting back in again. She settles more firmly against him, toes curling in the sheets as together, they stroke her from the inside. They map the tight, swelling walls of her sex with great care, pushing deeper each time. She finds a rhythm slowly and with his help, her head lolling back against his shoulder as her hips rock against their joined hands, drawing moans from her mouth and more of that slick moisture from her sex.

Matt follows the pace she sets with the slow rolling of her hips. "That's it, pet," he croons against her ear. "There you are, just like this."

He snatches her other hand from its death grip on his trouser leg, bringing it around and pressing two of her fingers against her swollen clit. The added stimulation only speeds up the slow build of heat in her belly and Alex bites back a high-pitched whine, throwing her head back.

Instantly dropping his face into the crook of her neck, Matt suckles lightly on her skin, peering over her shoulder as they work together to bring her over the edge. "One last little trick," he whispers.

Without slowing their rhythm at all, he guides her fingers alongside his, curling all four of them just so. The next time Alex rocks her hips, the tips of their fingers brush and spark against some unholy, earth-shattering place deep within and for one brief, shining moment, she is aware of nothing else on earth but the rapid pounding of her heart and the way her whole body trembles violently around the questing fingers inside her.

She blinks away the dark spots dotting her vision and gasps, staring open-mouthed at the ceiling as her chest heaves. Matt says nothing, letting her recover, but he wraps a hand around her wrist and takes her fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. Watching him, she feels her knees tremble and feels utterly thankful she's lying down.

"You," she finally manages, eyes dark and face flushed, "are quite the teacher."

He looks pleased to hear it, brushing aside her hair and dropping a lingering kiss to her shoulder. She stretches languidly, pointing her toes, before turning on her side and curling up against his chest. Matt wraps his arms around her waist and cradles her to him with seemingly no thought to

his own desire, though she promises herself she'll take care of him the moment she can think properly again.

It's only been a matter of days but she has found that these precious few minutes are her favorite, the moments just after they're together in the most personal and intimate sense; when her heart is still thudding erratically and the sweat hasn't quite dried on her skin, when Matt holds her close and his fingers trail whisper-soft over her flesh. She never feels closer to him than she does laid bare before his eyes. It's strange to think that only a short time ago, being so completely vulnerable in front of him would have horrified her. She smiles into the crook of his neck, marveling at how quickly she has grown to trust this terrible, soft-hearted man with absolutely every part of her.

He trails his fingers up and down her arm, his lips at her hair, and she realizes suddenly that the most incredible part of all this is that Matt – who was so closed off for so long, so silent and unreachable as her enemy and her jailer – is just as willing to be vulnerable in front of her. He trusts her. And that means more than any pearl necklace or pretty new dress.

Still, something niggles at the back of her mind – something that has bothered her since their first night together, if she's truly honest. That night was beautiful. It meant everything to her. She'd been so in love and so nervous and Matt had been so patient as he'd guided her. In all their encounters since then, she has come to the realization that her husband is very familiar with the female form. Alex had been utterly clueless that night, and still is in some ways – through no fault of her own, of course. It's simply how things are. Women are to remain chaste until marriage. What keeps her up some nights is that the same isn't expected of men.

A knot forms in her stomach, replacing the lazy bliss of only moments ago, and Alex can't help but wonder who else Matt trusted with all of him. Who else has seen him like this? The ball of anxiety in her stomach tightens. She doesn't like the idea of not being the first to see him so vulnerable. She bites her lip, nuzzling under his jaw and feeling irrationally jealous of women who came before her.

She doesn't say a word but Matt slides his hand up her back and into her hair, as if sensing the sudden tension in her body. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she says. "I'm being silly."

"I've no doubt." He kisses her temple, mouth trailing over her cheek. "Tell me anyway."

She sighs, feeling her cheeks flush as she admits, "I was thinking that I wished I could have been your first as you have been mine."

Matt freezes, unyielding as stone behind her. Grimacing, Alex worries her lip between her teeth and wishes she hadn't said anything. She hadn't even meant to. Ever since she married him, she has been at times brutally honest, and usually in an effort to offend him. She finds that even now, the habit of being truthful with her husband is a hard one to break. Finally, after another tense moment of silence, Matt ducks his head and buries his face in her hair. "So do I."

She swallows thickly at the admission, wondering who these women were and what they were like – what Matt was like with them. She wonders if they curled against him in this very same bed. She'd known there had to be others – a man with Matt's experience and money couldn't have been lonely long, even with his reputation – but the confirmation makes something twist painfully in her chest. "Did you love them?"

He sighs, a reluctant exhalation against the back of her neck. "Pet -"

"Please." She tilts her head back, meeting his dark gaze and studying the fathomless regret in them. "I want to know."

He shakes his head, lifting a hand to cradle her cheek. "No one ever meant a damn thing to me until you." She blinks away a sudden onslaught of tears and he groans, pressing their foreheads together. "I'm not nearly as experienced as you seem to think I am, dearest. I had a few trysts when I was much younger, fumbling and meaningless attempts before I gave up on people entirely and settled here to get away from them." His thumb sweeps over her cheek. "It was long before you."

She nods, more relieved than she'll ever admit that no other woman has ever been mistress of this house, even for a night. "Good."

His brows lift in surprise and the corner of his mouth twitches. "Jealous, pet?"

She frowns. "Wouldn't you be if you were in my place?" His eyes darken, that half-smile disappearing in an instant as a scowl takes its place. She laughs softly, brushing his hair from his forehead. "Not a nice feeling, is it?"

"I'd take it all back if I could," he says, capturing her hand in his. "Every last worthless second with anyone else."

Alex shakes her head, drawing in a quiet breath and pushing back the jealousy to smile at him. "I don't want you to regret your past, darling. You just didn't want to be alone. I could never fault you for that."

"It never worked," he confesses, and his voice is a deep, comforting rumble in his chest.

"Until me."

He chuckles softly. "Until the first time I looked at you."

Her smile widens and she feels inordinately proud of herself. "I don't think your trysts were quite so fumbling as you say, darling. You seem to know exactly what you're doing."

He pinches her side gently, just enough to make her squeak and curl into him. "I've read a lot since then."

She giggles. "You have naughty books?"

"They're not -" He scowls. "They're educational. As you can now testify."

Flushing at the reminder, Alex lifts her chin stubbornly. "Will you read them to me?"

"Possibly." He watches her with a smirk. "If you can show me what you've learned tonight. We can't move on until you get the first lesson right."

Swatting at his chest, Alex leans up to kiss him soundly, inexplicably thankful to be the one woman who mattered to a man who spent far too long caring about nothing at all.

she does know the earth is run by mothers

Chapter Summary

In the few short weeks since they've adopted the sweet Lenora, her taciturn husband has bonded easily and quickly with the girl while Alex flounders, wondering if she was meant for motherhood after all.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone the Wanderer by Louise Gluck.

"Flower for Papa?"

The knees of her trousers muddy and soil smeared up to her elbows as she kneels in the dirt, planting new seeds, Alex glances up from her task and finds her daughter standing next to her, holding a violet starflower. The toddler bounces a bit on her heels, long hair slipping down her back and shy grin on her face. Her new trousers have remained miraculously pristine throughout their morning outdoors and Alex sighs, swiping her hair out of her eyes. "Absolutely, sweetheart. I'm sure he'll love it."

Nora beams, tucking the flower carefully into her pocket for safekeeping. "Now?"

She shakes her head. "When we're finished. Daddy is working right now anyway."

Pouting, Nora wanders away to inspect the begonias but the front door opens and Matt steps outside, eliciting a squeal from Nora, who runs right to him. He smiles, lifting her into his arms, and the two stand together in the yard, heads close together as Nora shows him the flower.

Alex pushes away the pang in her heart and turns back to the seeds in her hands, lips pursed. In the few short weeks since they've adopted the sweet Lenora, her taciturn husband has bonded easily and quickly with the girl while Alex flounders, wondering if she was meant for motherhood after all. It's only natural that Nora gravitates to the man who'd found her and carried her home on his horse. She's so attached to Matt and Alex loves her for it. She loves watching Matt so gentle with someone other than her, especially a child. Their child.

Even so, she can't help but wonder what it might be like to have that sort of affection and devotion from Nora. Matt settles Nora on her feet and Alex watches as the girl turns instantly and grasps his hand, pulling him with her. While part of her can't help being jealous that the two get along so well, it still warms her heart to see it. For all that he tries to act intimidating and unapproachable, children are always drawn to Matt. They see right through him to the softhearted man beneath.

As the two of them head in her direction, she stands swiftly, dusting off her dirty hands and only succeeding in smearing damp soil over her palms. "Away from your study before noon?" She asks teasingly, leaning in to kiss her husband. "I haven't forgotten our anniversary, have I?"

He follows her when she pulls away, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth. She can tell he's trying to frown at her but with her so near and Nora tugging on his trouser leg for attention, he can't quite manage it. "Actually, I was going to suggest we have lunch outside today but if you're going to insist on being disagreeable -"

She pecks his chin with a smile. "I think that sounds lovely."

Nora bounces on her toes between them, beaming. "A picnic!"

Alex laughs. "Not quite, lovely. I can't picture your daddy sitting on a blanket on the ground."

Matt scowls. "I am perfectly capable of having a normal picnic." She lifts a brow and he deflates. "I merely thought Nora might have trouble eating without a table. You said yourself you didn't want her getting her new trousers dirty."

Nora giggles, still clinging to his leg.

Shaking her head fondly, Alex sighs. "Where is it then?" He offers her his arm and she hesitates. "Darling, I'm filthy. I'll get your suit dirty."

He eyes her dubiously, arm still held out for her, and she gives in with a smile, latching onto his arm and letting him lead her around to the other side of the house, Nora toddling ahead after them. She doesn't know how he managed it without her hearing him but he'd actually gotten a table from the kitchens out of the house and in the yard. The fog is thick today so there isn't much of a view but if it were a clear day, they would have been able to look out across the moors with ease. The small table has been covered in a crisp white tablecloth and their lunch spread has been set out with great care, delicate china in each place setting.

Nora races ahead with a delighted squeal but Alex stands and stares, leaning against Matt. He watches her closely and she can sense his anxiety but for a long moment, she can do nothing but blink away tears and feel terribly silly. He's always buying her little trinkets, always spoiling her, but none of it ever touches her the way it does when he does something truly heartfelt like this – something that can't be bought and only comes from his desire to make her happy.

"Not quite a picnic," he hedges, glancing away and watching Nora scramble into a chair and begin to inspect the cutlery. "But I thought -"

"This is better," she says firmly, clearing her throat and finally looking at him. He looks pleased to hear her so say, ducking his head for a moment before he remembers he's a grown man and not a little boy with a crush. She laughs softly, careful not to dirty his shirt with her hands as she leans in and kisses him. "You are full of surprises, my love."

He studies her with those wonderfully dark eyes, mouth twitching in amusement. "May I escort you to the table then?"

She shakes her head, pursing her lips against a smile. "You may not." She laughs when he frowns at her, gesturing to her clothes with her dirty hands. "I'm going to wash away some of his dirt and change – and no you may not watch. Keep an eye on our girl." She reaches up on her toes to kiss his cheek and as her lips brush his skin, the shatter of breaking glass sends them both jumping apart, turning to the table across the yard.

Holding the remains of a smashed drinking glass in her bloodied hand, Nora bursts into tears, blue eyes welling up and spilling over as she begins to wail. Heart in her throat, Alex starts forward, wanting nothing but to run to her baby and scoop her up, but Nora shakes her head violently and sobs, "No, Daddy!"

She freezes in place, staring as Matt reaches their child and lifts her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Nora clings to him, still crying while Matt inspects her hand with a scowl. "I don't see any glass," he murmurs, squinting. "Just a cut. I'll wash it out with water from the well, just in case." He lifts his head, eyes on Alex. "Fetch a bandage, pet?"

She nods woodenly, still gazing at them as Matt begins to walk toward the well, bouncing Nora a little in his arms.

"Hush now," he says softly, one hand stroking her hair. "You're fine, silly girl. Just a little cut, see?"

As she turns slowly and begins the walk around the house and into the manor, she can't help but compare the feeling to being punched in the stomach. She has never had the misfortune before but she imagines it can't be much worse than this. Her baby doesn't want her. Children, when they're hurt or frightened, usually want their mothers, don't they? Nora has taken to calling her Mother but perhaps it's only a title to her. Perhaps she'll never look at Alex as anything other than the woman who scolds her when her clothes are dirty and makes her say please and thank you.

She tries. She bathes Nora every night and tucks her in. She reads to her at bedtime and brings her warm milk. She entertains her during the day while Matt is busy with work. But the moment the man steps out of his study, Nora forgets she exists. Matt is the one she wants and Alex can't help but feel hurt by it. Maybe she was never meant to be a mother for a reason. No matter how hard she tries with the girl, clearly she just doesn't have what it takes. She doesn't have that mythical mother's touch women are always talking about.

Blinking away stubborn tears, Alex fetches the bandages from the linen cupboard and walks back outside, determined to patch up her baby and worry about her pathetic attempts at motherhood later. When she finds Matt, he has Nora perched on the edge of the well, holding her so she doesn't fall.

As she bandages the cut in silence, Nora's cries slow to sniffles and eventually, she sags against Matt's chest, sleeping with her mouth open and tears still drying on her flushed cheeks. Without the potential threat of Nora flinching away from her, Alex allows her hand to linger on the girl's cheek, brushing her thumb just under her fluttering lashes. Whether Nora sees her as a mother or not, she loves the little girl as her own and that will never change.

Biting her lip, she drops her hand and refuses to look at Matt. "Take her to her room, darling. A nap will do her good."

He stands silently in front of her for a moment and she can almost feel him frowning while she stares at his boots. "Wouldn't you rather do it?"

She shakes her head, whirling to gather up the remains of her supplies from the lip of the well. "I think she's made it quite clear whom she'd rather be with and it certainly isn't me." The moment the petulant words leave her mouth she wants to shove them back in again. It's hardly Matt's fault their little girl likes him best. If Alex were Nora, she'd feel the same way.

Feeling ashamed of herself for even letting on that she is even upset at all, Alex strides swiftly across the yard and back into the house before Matt can utter a word of protest. She puts away the supplies in the cupboard and hears Matt enter the house and the soft sound of his footsteps on the

stairs as he carries Nora to her room.

Alex retreats to the kitchens and tells herself she isn't hiding. Since they were supposed to be picnicking, Matt clearly let the kitchen staff have the afternoon off because it's entirely deserted. Alex busies herself with making a cup of tea and sinks into a seat at the small, battered kitchen table just as Matt comes looking for her.

He stands in the doorway, studying her in silence while she stirs her tea and avoids his gaze. Finally, he asks gruffly, "What's the matter with you?"

She sips her tea and nearly burns her tongue. "Nothing."

"Alex."

At the quiet, stern sound of his voice, she is horrified to find her eyes filling up.

She ducks her head but not before Matt sees and he staggers forward in alarm. "Pet, what it is? Tell me and I'll fix it. Please."

His concern only makes her feel worse and she shakes her head, whispering, "I don't think she likes me."

Lord, she feels even more childish saying it out loud. What is wrong with her? She hadn't even given birth to the child and her emotions are still absolutely everywhere at once. But Matt doesn't laugh at her or call her foolish and tell her she's being ridiculous. He looks at her like she's gone mad but he says absolutely nothing, which is all but confirmation in her eyes.

"But she adores you, darling. So tell me…" She sniffles, trying to compose herself. "What am I doing wrong?"

Matt blinks at her, standing in the middle of the kitchen with his arms hanging at his sides and his cravat askew. "Pet, are you ill?" He finally asks, squinting at her. "That child worships you!"

She scoffs, taking another gulp of hot tea that scalds her mouth. "All she does it talk about you! She picks flowers for you and lights up when you walk into a room. You're the one she wants

when she's hurt." She sniffles again. "I'm her mother, why doesn't she want me?"

Matt looks at a total loss for words, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides, mouth slightly agape and a red flush coloring his cheekbones.

She drops her eyes, hating that she has managed to make him angry on top of everything else. "And I hate myself because I don't want to be jealous of you, darling. I should just be grateful that she has a home with good people now. I should be grateful that she's safe and happy and that she has someone she loves and trusts, even if it isn't me. But I don't feel grateful, Matt. I feel like a failure." She wipes furiously at her cheeks, biting her lip. "I'm a terrible mother and an even more wretched person-"

"Stop it." He shouts, slamming a hand hard enough against the doorframe to make her jump. She can't remember the last time Matt raised his voice to her. He doesn't soften at her startled gaze on him or the tears on her cheeks. If anything, his dark gaze only hardens. He runs a hand through his hair, gaze flitting around the room but refusing to land on her. "Just stop."

She presses her lips together, nodding quickly.

With her eyes focused intently on her teacup, she doesn't see him leave but she hears his boots on the floor and after a moment, she flinches when the front door slams shut. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Alex closes her eyes and wraps her chilly hands around her cup, willing the tremors to stop.

She sits by herself in the kitchen for a long time, letting her tea grow cold, and by the time she makes herself get up to wash and change, it's time to wake Nora from her nap. She walks the corridor slowly, skirts in hand, and tries not to think about the scene in the kitchen or the angry growl of Matt's voice before he stormed off. Instead, she takes a deep breath and slips quietly into Nora's room, settling on the edge of the girl's bed.

Nora is curled up into a ball on top of the blankets, clutching a teddy bear by its ear, her petal pink lips lax in slumber. Alex can't help but reach out and stroke her dark hair, marveling in quiet amusement how sweet the imp looks when she isn't awake. "Nora, my love." She tickles her neck gently, smiling when Nora squirms away with a sleepy frown. "It's time to wake up."

Slowly, Nora opens big blue eyes and yawns, rubbing a small fist over her face. More fully awake

now, she scrambles to sit up and peers carefully at Alex. After a moment, she beams and crawls into her lap. Alex wraps her in her arms, cuddling the warm little body against her chest and dropping her face into the child's sweet-smelling hair. "Did you sleep well?"

Nora nods, yawning again. "'m glad you're clean now, Mummy."

Alex laughs softly. "What?"

"Couldn't hold Nora," she explains, snuggling close and burrowing her face into Alex's curls. "All dirty."

"I – yes, I was." Alex frowns, tightening her arms around the girl. "Is that why you didn't want me to hold you when you were hurt?"

Nora nods, the reminder of what happened before her nap causing her to lift her hand and inspect her bandage in fascination. In an almost perfect imitation of Alex's voice, she says, "'New clothes better stay clean or I'll be cross!'"

Flushing, Alex feels all at once guilty and incredibly silly for the misunderstanding. "I did say that, didn't I?"

Nora nods again, holding out her hand with a little pout. "Kiss it better, Mummy?"

Capturing her daughter's tiny wrist, Alex swallows back a grateful, relieved smile and kisses her hand. "There," she whispers. "All better."

Satisfied, Nora drops her hand and leans into Alex. "I'm hungry, Mummy."

Realizing she had slept right through lunch, Alex stands with Nora in her arms and sweeps from the room, heading for the stairs. "We'll just have to fix that, won't we?" She tickles the back of her neck, relishing Nora's squirmy giggles and cradling her daughter close. "We'll see what Hobbs left for us to eat, hmm?"

Nora wraps an arm around her neck. "Picnic?"

Alex shakes her head, belatedly remembering the lovely spread Matt had prepared before things turned sour. Around the lump in her throat, she promises, "We'll try again tomorrow, sweetheart."

Together, they manage to find something to eat for lunch and the remainder of their day is spent together. They play with Nora's dolls in her room and take turns dressing them in different outfits; they play hide and seek while Alex pretends she can't see a pair of little feet poking out from beneath the drapes; they try to bake cookies without Hobbs' supervision and wind up getting absolutely covered in dough and without anything to show for their efforts but a bath.

By dinnertime, Matt still hasn't returned but thankfully the kitchen staff has, so she and Nora don't have to worry about feeding themselves or starving. They eat dinner without Matt and while Nora asks after him, she seems content enough in Alex's company alone. After asking Hobbs to save a plate for Matt should he return home hungry, Alex and Nora walk hand in hand to the library.

Nora sits on the floor in front of the fire and draws, all of her art supplies spread out on the floor in front of her while Alex tries and fails to have the patience for needlepoint. Eventually, she puts the pointless endeavor aside and stares into the fire with fidgeting hands, her mind far away on her missing husband.

When the hour grows later, Nora tires of drawing and climbs into Alex's lap, curling up with her head on her chest. Alex holds her close and hums softly, combing her fingers through the girl's long hair. Not five minutes after Nora finally falls asleep, Alex hears the library door creak open.

She doesn't turn to look, listening instead to the quiet click of his boots against the floor. He settles almost hesitantly on the settee next to her and though she does not glance in his direction, he radiates contrition. She knows he'll apologize when he's ready but she doesn't need him to. She already knows he's sorry. He'd been sorry before he left.

Keeping her eyes on Nora's face, she says softly, "She didn't want me because I would have gotten her clothes dirty."

Matt says nothing but when she risks a glance at him, she finds him pale and tired. His mouth twitches in amusement and he rasps, "I could have told you that."

"Then why didn't you?" She asks, letting disappointment seep into her tone and watching his shoulders slump in reply. "Instead of walking out?"

He leans forward, elbows on his knees and dark eyes fixed on the floor. "I was angry."

"Yes, I know that, darling. You made it perfectly clear."

He flinches.

"But why?" She sighs when he doesn't answer. "Were you angry with me?"

"No," he says instantly, lifting his head. "Not you, love."

"What then?"

He huffs, looking impatient. "I was angry I had no idea you felt that way and I should have. Because I didn't want you feeling that way. Because I didn't want to hear you talk about yourself like -" He sighs, sounding furious all over again. "Like you weren't good enough. I was angry because you're wonderful and I'm too rubbish with words to come right out and say it."

"Oh, darling." Alex blinks away tears, reaching for his hand. "You really are rubbish."

He snorts quietly, clinging to her hand and squeezing her fingers. "When I'm with her," he says, eyes drifting to Nora sleeping in her arms. "You're all she talks about. It's always mummy says this or mummy did that or isn't mummy pretty?" He smiles softly, lifting his eyes to hers and holding her gaze. "You're incredible with her, pet. She thinks you're some sort of saint."

She trembles under the weight of his stare, swallowing hard. "Really?"

He nods, thumb stroking softly over her knuckles. "You're an amazing mother, just as I knew you would be if given the chance." They both drop their eyes, remembering the little life that never really had time to begin before it was lost. Her eyes stinging, Alex adjusts Nora in her arms and curls into her husband's side, seeking his warmth and comfort. He wraps his arms around her, kissing her hair. "I shouldn't have left."

"No," she agrees. "You shouldn't have."

He hesitates, clearly wallowing in his own guilt. "I didn't want to upset you by saying the wrong thing."

"So you decided to just upset me by shouting and leaving instead?"

She feels him recoil and instantly regrets her sharp tongue, turning her face into his neck. He holds her tighter, lips brushing her temple. "I'm sorry, pet," he whispers earnestly. "It won't happen again. I swear it."

She nods, fingers gripping the front of his coat as she mumbles, "See that it doesn't."

He kisses her temple again and she makes a soft noise of protest, lifting her face to his and closing her eyes when he leans in, kissing her properly. His face is still cold from wandering the moors but she only presses closer, reaching up a hand to stroke his cool skin. He shudders at her touch, nipping at her bottom lip with a faint growl.

Nora stirs in her arms and they break apart breathlessly. Pleased to find Matt looking appropriately flushed now, Alex hides a grin and drops her eyes to their daughter. "Put her to bed?" She asks. "She missed you today."

He nods, looking guilty all over again as he reaches for her. Even in sleep Nora seems to recognize him because as he lifts her from Alex's arms, Nora reaches out a little hand and pats his face with a murmured, "Papa home?"

Matt smirks, face dropping into her hair as he makes the softest cooing noise against the shell of Nora's ear. "Home just in time for bed," he rumbles.

Nora sighs happily, curling against him.

Watching Matt stand and head for the door with a smile, Alex wraps her arms around her middle and relishes not feeling the slightest hint of jealousy. The little imp loves her too and that's all she ever wanted. Even so, her heart leaps when Nora opens her eyes and searches out Alex over Matt's shoulder, reaching out a little hand. "Sing, Mummy?"

Stifling a grin, she stands quickly from the settee and follows after Matt, latching onto his arm and pressing her face into Nora's side, feeling tiny fingers snatch at her curls. "Of course, my love,"

she beams. "Anything you want."

But while you wait, don't eat the food of the dead

Chapter Summary

Father Beaumont has learned that gossip is a way of life and no matter how many sermons he delivers, the stories will never cease – particularly when they have to do with Alexandra Kingston and her unfortunate marriage.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone Lied.

They say she's gone mad, that she's been possessed or seduced. Possibly all three at once. Since moving from his home in France to lead his own church of God's children in this little English village nearly fifty years ago, Father Beaumont has learned that gossip is a way of life and no matter how many sermons he delivers, the stories will never cease – particularly when they have to do with Alexandra Kingston and her unfortunate marriage.

He never wanted to believe any of the stories but when rumors began to circulate of the wild-haired woman who roams the moors on a black steed and carries a dagger up her sleeve, he begins to wonder if all the gossip contained a bit of truth after all.

He worries about her, Alexandra Kingston. Well, Lady Smith now, he amends. She used to be devout in her attendance of morning mass but since her marriage, she had to move miles away and he could never be sure if she carried on attending church elsewhere. He suspected her attendance might suffer, that her faith might wane because of the man she was forced to marry but he hoped she would find her way back eventually.

These new rumors of her husband's negative influence over her only aggravate his concerns. She used to be such a sweet young woman. He watched her grow and blossom. He watched her learn to accept that God had other plans for her besides having a husband and bearing children. He'd always had high hopes she might find a nice convent to join and do God's work there, before the devil came to spirit her away.

As stories of her new dark path continue to grow and spread, Father Beaumont faithfully lights a candle and says a prayer for the Lady Smith daily, hoping she might return home or that her new husband might repent from his ways.

God answers prayers in His own time and often with a surprising twist, but Father Beaumont has learned never to question Him, which is why when he sees her on the street in the middle of town one day, he doesn't hesitate before walking right up to Lady Smith. The hulking, dark-skinned man with her is not her husband but he hovers closely around the much smaller woman, like some sort of warden.

At Father Beaumont's approach, the man steps in front of her but the moment Lady Smith raises her head and spots him, she lights up. "Father Beaumont!" She beams at the sight of him, brushing aside her keeper with a swat of her hand. "How lovely to see you."

"It's been a while," he agrees with a kindly smile. "How are you, my dear?"

If anything, her smile grows. "I'm wonderful. Just in town visiting my parents."

"Good, good," he mutters, patting her hand. "Have you been visiting long?"

"Only since yesterday."

"And you're not ill?"

She shakes her head, still grinning. "No, I'm quite well, thank you. Are you?"

"Perfectly fine." He doesn't release her hand, curling his older, weathered fingers around her small, soft palm. "I only asked because I didn't see you at mass this morning with you parents. Do you attend a church with your husband?"

The Lady Smith purses her lips, looking amused. "I don't believe he's ever been in a church aside from during our wedding, Father."

Ah, just as he suspected.

He tightens his grip on her hand, eyeing her sympathetically.

Her smile turns uneasy as she drops her gaze to his fingers. "Father Beaumont? Are you sure you're quite alright?"

"Are you, my dear?" He asks, leaning in close and studying her face for signs of mental torment or heaven forbid, physical abuse. The woman hides it well – she doesn't even look fatigued. She looks like any rosy-cheeked, happy bride. Oh, the poor thing. "I've heard so many terrible stories."

Slowly, the smile on her face slips away and she gives him a long, hard look. "I don't know what you've heard, Father, but I'm very happy and settled where I am. There's no need for your concern. My husband -"

"Is he keeping you from church?" He gives the shadow of a man over her shoulder a brief look of contempt. "Does he keep you prisoner and only let you out with your warden? Is he making you do sinful things?" He squeezes her hand again, blinking tearfully up at her. "It's alright, my dear. You can tell me."

"What on earth -" Lady Smith tries to pull her hand from his grasp and when he doesn't immediately release her, the man behind her takes a menacing step forward.

Father Beaumont gives a startled gasp, letting go of the Lady.

She casts a grateful glance over her shoulder before turning back to him, idly rubbing her sore fingers. "I can't imagine what you've heard, Father, but rest assured I am not a prisoner. Benson is with me for my protection, not to keep me from running off. And my husband has never once made me do anything I didn't wish – sinful or otherwise." She lifts her chin, frowning at him and looking alarmingly unlike the sweet young girl he remembers kneeling at the altar.

Her husband has made her wicked and she doesn't even realize it.

Father Beaumont releases a shaky sigh, pursing his trembling lips together. "I am very sorry for the path you are on, young lady. But the good Lord always has a plan – even when things seem dark." He lifts his eyes to hers, attempting an encouraging smile. "You remember that and have faith that He will deliver you."

Lady Smith blinks at him, puzzled.

He shakes his head, reaching into his pocket for his rosary. He presses it to his lips, offering up a little prayer of protection, and passes it into her hand. Curling her fingers around the rosary beads, he whispers, "Take it. It will keep you safe."

She stares at him in silence, dropping her eyes from his to the rosary and back again. "Beads won't keep me safe, Father," she murmurs with what sounds like pity. "My husband does that."

He shakes his head in sympathy, turning to go. "I will pray for you, Lady Smith. You and your depraved husband."

It isn't until nearly a month later that Father Beaumont gets the chance to glimpse the infamous Lord Smith in person. He's walking slowly back to town from the home of a sick parish member, discouraged and worried about the man's wife and children should anything happen to him. There is only so much the church can do for widows nowadays.

Hands worrying his rosary beads and mind miles away, he almost doesn't hear the ruckus coming from the Callow family's land. The roaring shout of a wronged man finally penetrates the fog of his thoughts and he lifts his head, peering through the thick foliage of trees surrounding the property. He cranes his neck, listening closely.

"You can't do this to me!"

A calmer, almost chilly voice follows the exclamation: "I can do anything I like, as you well know." A brief pause. "Benson, the horses."

"No!"

Father Beaumont creeps closer, starting slowly down the dirt lane leading to the Callow home, and as he ducks beneath the trees, the whole scene comes into view across the lawn. Lord Smith cuts a striking figure in his dark suit, a tall, thin man with an angular face. He jauntily swings his walking stick, surveying the property with a keen eye.

Another man, broader in the shoulders and dark-skinned, leads a pair of Mr. Callow's prized horses from his barn. Father Beaumont recognizes him instantly as the man who had chaperoned

Lady Smith's visit last month. "Careful with them, Benson," Lord Smith says with a strange noise of amusement. "They won't fetch nearly as much if you scratch the merchandise before market."

Benson grumbles good-naturedly under his breath, attaching the horses to the others leading their carriage with professional care. The man clearly knows how to handle the animals and Father Beaumont can't help feeling the remark was not to scold Benson so much as taunt Mr. Callow.

Mr. Callow appears to have come to the same conclusion because he lets out an almost animalistic cry of rage before launching himself at Lord Smith, his hand raised to strike. Quicker than Father Beaumont has ever seen any human man move in his long life, Lord Smith whirls as if he'd been expecting the attack. He lashes out with his walking stick, striking Mr. Callow in the face and sending the man stumbling back with a cry.

Lord Smith rams the stick into the man's stomach and follows with a quick jab to his calves, sending Mr. Callow to his knees. "How dare you try to strike me, you miserable piece of filth," Lord Smith snaps, eyeing him with barely suppressed rage. "You're lucky I don't take you to market and sell you instead of your precious beasts." He sniffs. "Only, I doubt you'd fetch much, diseased and fat as you are."

Blood pouring out of his nose, Mr. Callow glowers up at him and spits, "Rotten son of a bitch."

Lord Smith raises a thin brow. "I am collecting what you owe, nothing more." He glances toward Benson, nodding, and the man climbs onto the coach's bench, taking up the reins. "Hardly my fault you spent what I loaned you on horse races and whores. Perhaps next time you'll make smarter business decisions."

Still on his knees, blood smeared over his face, Callow looks murderous as he sneers at the other man but he says nothing, stewing in silent rage.

Satisfied to have the last word, the devil of a man tips his hat with a muttered, "Pleasure as always, Mr. Callow" and turns his back, black coat whirling around his knees as he stalks up to the carriage and climbs inside.

Father Beaumont watches in horror as the carriage begins to roll away, taking the fiendish Lord Smith with it. Fingers clutched around his rosary beads, he makes the sign of the cross as the carriage passes him, more determined than ever to help the Lady Smith escape that man's clutches or at least help her save her husband's soul.

Before two days of faithful prayer about the matter passes, Father Beaumont crosses the street and finds himself staring at the profile of the Lady Smith as she peers into a jewelry store window, a young boy at her side. "Look at that one, Mistress," the lad points excitedly at something in the window display. "That would look right pretty on you."

Lady Smith beams, ruffling the boy's dark hair. "You're terribly sweet, Parker, but I think your Master has come home laden with trinkets often enough that I'll never need another pretty bauble as long as I live."

The boy – Parker – casts her a sly look full of mischief. "Not like that'll stop him, Ma'am."

She laughs heartily. "No, but I won't encourage his frivolity."

Parker shrugs. "Just likes to spoil you, Ma'am. Never had nobody to spend his money on before."

"Never had anybody," Lady Smith corrects gently, her smile warm. "And I know, dear. That's why I never complain."

The boy grins at her, leaning a little into her side, and the two stand gazing into the window in silent camaraderie for another moment before Father Beaumont can bring himself to interrupt the strange scene. "Excuse me, Lady Smith -"

Before he can utter another word, the sweet young lad at her side steps right in front of her, acting as a shield of sorts, his eyes hard and his mouth a grim line. "Not so close to the lady," he snaps, glowering.

Father Beaumont blinks at him in surprise.

Lady Smith laughs softly, amused by the display, and presses a gentle hand to the boy's shoulder. "It's fine, Parker. This is Father Beaumont – I've known him for a very long time."

Parker doesn't move right away, watching the Father for a long moment, clearly deciding whether the old man could pose a threat or not. Finally, he gives a curt nod and steps back, allowing the

Lady Smith to greet him properly.

"It's good to see you again, Father," she says, and looks as if she means it, strangely enough. She eyes him with her bright green gaze, idly tugging at a spotless silk glove. "Matt had business in town for a few days – we've been staying at an inn. I was hoping to run into you before we left this afternoon."

He ducks his head, wondering at the kindness he finds there. From the stories that still circulate, he hears that she has turned into a cold sort of woman, just as merciless as her husband. While he can't deny that something has certainly changed in the woman's manner, he sees no malice in her eyes as she watches him. "I'm quite well, my dear. Praying for you faithfully."

Her mouth twists into a faint smile. "That's very kind of you."

He draws in a quiet breath, hesitating, but the good Lord tugs at his heart and he goes where his Savior leads. "I'm also praying for your husband."

Lady Smith lifts an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I saw him," he confesses in a hushed whisper, and Lady Smith leans forward to hear him better with a puzzled frown. "Just the other day, doing the devil's work. Beating a poor man with his walking stick, stealing his horses…." He shakes his head, trembling a little at the memory. "It was the most dreadful display."

Instead of looking alarmed, Lady Smith merely smiles. "I'm sure he was just collecting the payment that man owed him, Father. Matt doesn't go around beating people without just cause." She hesitates, brow furrowing. "Well, at least not recently."

"There is no just cause for using violence against another," he scolds, appalled that she would condone such behavior. "We must love our neighbors as we love ourselves, Lady Smith -"

Parker frowns. "What if we haven't got any neighbors?"

Lady Smith muffles a giggle in a gloved hand, clearing her throat. "It's a metaphor, my dear. Don't interrupt the grownups, now."

"Sorry, Ma'am." He ducks his head sheepishly, scratching his cheek, but grins a bit when Lady Smith pats his dark hair fondly.

Father Beaumont makes an impatient noise, resisting the urge to fiddle with his rosary. "I'm afraid your husband is lost, my dear. Together, we might be able to save him from damnation but -"

"My husband isn't lost, Father," Lady Smith sighs patiently, shaking her head. "He's right where he should be. Now if you'll excuse us -"

He reaches out a hand quickly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to keep her in place and ignoring her little companion's squawk of protest. "I saw him, Lady Smith. I saw him lash out without mercy and trample upon the downtrodden. He has a vile, wicked heart -"

"That's quite enough, Father," she snaps, and her eyes, usually so bright green with good humor, flash with a dangerous emotion that makes the rest of his warning die in his throat. "Don't speak of my husband as if you know him. His heart is more full of loyalty and kindness than any man of God I have ever met and you'll do well to remember it before speaking of him to me."

He stares at her in stunned silence.

She stares right back at him, colder now, and more like the woman he has heard so much about. "'And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?'" She quotes softly, and her words send a chill up his spine.

He blinks at her, heart in his throat.

"Matthew 7:3," she says, and her mouth twists unpleasantly. "Perhaps you should think on your sins instead of worrying so much about my husband's, Father."

Without another word, she takes the hand of the young boy at her side and the two stride past him and down the street. He turns just in time to see the tall, imposing figure of Lord Smith help his wife into a carriage. She steps in without a backward glance and he follows right after her, disappearing inside. The boy scrambles onto the bench next to the coachman and all at once, they're all trundling off down the lane and away from town.

Father Beaumont clutches at his rosary and prays for guidance.

The manor house of Lord and Lady Smith is just as he imagined it would be – a grey, imposing structure on the moors surrounded by heather and fog. Father Beaumont pays the coachman to wait for him and hops from the carriage, adjusting his Roman collar anxiously.

It has been three weeks since he last saw Lady Smith in town and he knows it will be even longer before she visited again. Matters of the soul can only wait so long and he found that he could not wait another moment before seeking out the two most in need of redemption. So he has made the three-day journey alone, hoping to make some progress.

The grounds around the house, though marshy and damp, seem to be well cared for. There is a garden with all manner of bright flowers and exotic plants but there is a certain feral wildness to the grounds and the house itself that no amount of tedious care will ever be able to remove. Father Beaumont eyes the wild flowers growing alongside the walls and the vines slithering up the sides of the house with unease, idly thinking on bad omens.

Two swift knocks on the heavy front door leads to a small slip of a girl answering his call, peering up at him through a curtain of blonde hair. Must be one of the little orphans Lord Smith kidnaps as workhorses, the poor thing.

"Hello, my dear," he says kindly, smiling at her. "Is your Master at home?"

She nods, frowning at him. "May I ask who's calling, Sir?"

"Father Beaumont."

She shrugs. "I'm Iris."

He beams. "Hello."

"Come on then." She steps aside to let him in and he crosses the threshold trying not to think about the old Greek myth of crossing into the underworld. If he doesn't eat anything, he'll be safe, he muses, but poor Alexandra has feasted too long in this place.

The little Iris leads him through dark corridors with a muttered, "He's in his study."

He follows behind her, the wooden floors creaking beneath his feet. If he listens closely, he can hear the windowpanes whistling from the wind outside and he draws his coat tighter around his frame to ward off a chill, wondering how the warm and vibrant Lady Smith manages to survive and thrive in such a place.

"Here we are," Iris says, and stops outside a heavy mahogany door, knocking softly. At a grumble from inside, she pushes open the door just a little and peeks in. "It's a priest, Master Smith."

"A priest? What the devil does a priest want with me?"

Iris shrugs unhelpfully.

Inside the room, Lord Smith sighs gustily and snaps, "Send him in."

Turning back to him, Iris pushes open the door the rest of the way and ushers him inside. Before Father Beaumont can offer his thanks, she shuts the door behind her with a thud, leaving him alone with the master of the house. He sits behind an ornate desk littered with papers, a glass of the demon liquor at his side. Across the room, a fire roars in the fireplace, filling the space with warmth and a soft, comforting glow.

Without looking up from his paperwork, Lord Smith gestures to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Father Beaumont swallows, draws forth his courage, and steps up to the desk, sinking into the chair before Lord Smith. Up close, the man is quite fascinating to look at. He has a very young, angular sort of face but his eyes are old and dark, like he has seen more in his thirty years than most men see in a lifetime.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day a priest came to me for money," he says with a snort of dry amusement, his dark gaze finally flickering up to Father Beaumont. The sudden weight of his piercing eyes sets the priest on edge. "What's the matter? The parish no longer filling the church coffers, Father?"

For a moment, Father Beaumont can only stare at the man and wonder if he's speaking in tongues before it finally dawns on him that Lord Smith thinks he's there on matters of business. "Oh, no, Sir," he says, placing a shocked hand over his heart.

"Hardly my concern," he says thoughtlessly, rifling in a drawer for a piece of paper. "We'll just draw up the contract, shall we? What have you got as collateral?"

Father Beaumont shakes his head hurriedly, words stuck in his dry throat.

Lord Smith stares at him, frowning. "Well I'm hardly going to donate it to you because you're a priest. This isn't a charity."

"I'm not here for money," Father Beaumont finally manages to spit out. "I have no need of your sinful business, Lord Smith!"

Slowly, Lord Smith drops the paper in his hand and leans back in his chair, frowning at him with mild contempt. "Then what do you want, Father?"

He flinches at the sneering words. "I knew your wife when she was Alexandra Kingston. She attended mass at my church."

Oddly enough, the mention of his wife makes something soften in the man's hard gaze but he drops his eyes quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes, and?"

Steeling himself, Father Beaumont lifts his chin and meets the man's dark, knowing gaze. "I ask that you release your hold on her and allow her to come home to her God-fearing parents, where she belongs. She's a good girl -"

"Woman." He frowns, apparently ignoring everything else the Father had said. "She isn't a little girl in your parish anymore. She's a grown woman."

"She's lost, thanks to you!" Father Beaumont leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands in front of him. "You are both so very lost and in need of God's love. If you will not release your wife, at least allow her to attend church. Attend with her, in fact! It will do you both so much good."

Lord Smith blinks at him, his hair falling into his eyes as he tilts his head. "I'm hardly keeping her prisoner here, old man. If Alex wanted to attend mass, all she had to do was so say."

"But she doesn't want to attend!"

"Then why are insisting on pestering me?"

"Because she should want to go! Your influence has corrupted her heart."

"Her heart is perfect," he snaps, startling Father Beaumont into silence. "And as for releasing my wife, neither you nor God himself could prevail upon me to do any such thing. You're wasting your time, old man."

Father Beaumont swallows, preparing a rebuttal.

"Darling?"

They both freeze at the sound of Lady Smith's voice outside the door.

"Are you alright? I heard shouting and Iris said Father Beaumont was here?"

Lord Smith sighs, lifting a long -fingered hand to rub at his temple. "If you're going to insist on shouting through the door, you may as well come in, pet."

She opens the door and slips inside, her eyes instantly skipping right over Father Beaumont and falling to the man behind the desk. Smiling almost as if without conscious thought, Lady Smith shuts the door behind her and says, "I wasn't shouting. I only wanted to be heard."

"Yes, by shouting," Lord Smith murmurs, looking more amused than annoyed by the intrusion. "You have a visitor, my dear."

Father Beaumont watches in silence as he rises from his seat behind the desk and goes to his wife, taking her hand. She lets him, beaming as he leads her to his now vacant seat and helps her into it.

Father Beaumont watches in fascination, entranced by the soft look in Lord Smith's eyes as his hand lingers briefly on his wife's shoulder.

"He's trying to poison you against me, I believe," Lord Smith confides loudly enough for Father Beaumont to hear. "I've corrupted you with my wicked ways."

"Ah, that." Lady Smith smirks, swatting him away. "I was very willing."

"Thank the devil." He winks at her and Father Beaumont stares, getting the distinct feeling he is being mocked.

Lady Smith glances at him, sees his expression, and sighs. "Give us a moment, won't you, my love?"

Lord Smith nods, capturing her hand and squeezing her fingers briefly. "I'll be outside if you need me." He looks at Father Beaumont as he says it, as if the words are less for Lady Smith's reassurance and more for his own sake.

Father Beaumont sniffs at him, insulted.

Keeping her eyes on her husband, a small, alarmingly besotted smile on her face, Lady Smith pays him no attention until the door shuts behind the master of the house. Finally, she turns her gaze on him and Father Beaumont can't help but notice her eyes are a little frosty now. "What are you doing here, Father?"

"I came to beg your husband to release you," he answers honestly.

Impossibly, her gaze hardens further. "He would never. And even if he did try something so incredibly stupid, I would never allow it."

For one brief moment, Father Beaumont loses all self-possession and bursts out the one question he has been dying to ask for weeks, "Why?"

She blinks at him like she can't begin to understand why he would even need to ask. "Because I love him, Father. I could never leave him."

He shakes his head. "You're confused, my dear."

"I'm really not." She smiles. "I know you can't see it and I know all of this is difficult for you to understand but Matt makes me happy. I know he's a little rough around the edges and he isn't above using violence to get what he wants but never with me. He treats me like I am the most precious of all God's creatures, Father. And that means more to me than Sunday mass or dusty Latin hymns." She shrugs at his despairing look. "I'm happy here with him. He isn't keeping me prisoner. I'm here because I want to be – because I can't imagine being anywhere else."

"But -"

"I won't be coming back to church, Father," she says gently, her eyes kind now. "Yours or any other. Not because Matt won't allow it but because I have no desire to go. I never did. I only went because my parents wished it. But I know I don't need to be saved, not by God. And neither does Matt."

Reaching across the desk, she pats his hand with her own smaller, warm one. He lifts his eyes to hers, discouraged.

She smiles. "But you will always be welcome here, Father, so long as you stop trying to convert my husband or make him feel like some sort of heathen."

He nods mutely, at a loss.

"I'll leave you here for a moment." She eyes him with quiet understanding. "Iris will show you the door when you're ready." He watches in silence as she releases his hand and stands from behind the desk, rounding it with a soft rustle of skirts. "It was lovely to see you again, Father."

He nods again, watching her go until the door clicks softly shut behind her.

In the ensuing silence, he sits and stares at the papers littering the desk, a sinking feeling of failure in his heart. He knows there are some lost sheep that never return to the fold but the loss of Alexandra is weighing on him more heavily than others. She seems so happy in this new life and as hard as he tries, he cannot make it fit together in his head. There are some things, he supposes, that only the Almighty will ever understand.

With a regretful sigh, he stands to leave. As he rises, he catches a glimpse out the window behind the desk, into the garden outside. Lord Smith stands among the flowers, staring rather resolutely at a clustering of lavender, a scowl firmly in place.

Curious, Father Beaumont drifts to the window and peers past the heavy drapes. He watches with interest as Lady Smith rounds the corner of the house and smiles at the sight of her husband. With playful stealth, she walks silently across the yard and wraps her arms around him from behind.

Lord Smith does not jump at her touch or turn to see who holds him in an embrace. Instead, Father Beaumont watches in fascination as the scowl instantly melts away, leaving a small smile in its place. He looks content and more at peace than any man so far from God should. Father Beaumont struggles to understand it, watching as the tall, lanky man turns in the arms of his wife to look at her properly.

She smiles, wrinkling her nose slightly at whatever he says.

Lord Smith only softens further, taking her face in his hands with a reverence Father Beaumont has only ever seen when his own hands touch the Holy Book. Leaning in, Lord Smith kisses his wife with great care and more tenderness than the Father ever would have guessed he possessed. Alexandra leans up on her tiptoes to reach him, smiling into his mouth.

When they part, neither pulls away from the other. Instead, they press their foreheads together, eyes locked as they sway quietly in the middle of the garden. Father Beaumont stares unabashedly. The strange, unlikely couple radiates a quiet sort of happiness, as if something lost has been found in the other. He can't help but recall one memorable confession of Alexandra's years ago, when she came to him with contrition, admitting the envy in her heart for the girls around her who married and had hopes of a family. Young Alexandra had asked for forgiveness for wanting someone who would love her too. Father Beaumont had never considered Lord Smith as an answer to a prayer before now.

He watches the couple in the garden, the bright radiance of Alexandra Kingston all wrapped up in the dark shroud of her husband, and realizes that maybe they don't need to be saved after all. Perhaps they already have been.

she doesn't know what winter is

Chapter Summary

By the seashore amidst a crowd of gentleman in pastel coats and white trousers, Matt sticks out like a sore thumb in his dark suit but he refuses to adhere to Brighton fashion.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone the Wanderer by Louise Gluck.

By the seashore amidst a crowd of gentleman in pastel coats and white trousers, Matt sticks out like a sore thumb in his dark suit but he refuses to adhere to Brighton fashion. It was enough of a battle to get him here though, so Alex doesn't push him. She honestly can't imagine her husband in anything other than shades of black and gray anyway.

Standing on the shoreline, Matt's suit jacket folded over one arm, Alex shifts her hold on the delicate handle of her parasol and watches Nora try with all her might to tug her father out into the water. Shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows and displaying muscular forearms, Matt bends and scoops the little imp up into his arms, throwing her over his shoulder.

Alex watches them walk toward her with a smile, listening to Nora's giggles and loud demands to be released. They've been on holiday for a week, soaking in the sun, the culture, and the sea air at her insistence that Nora needed to know a life outside the moors. She'd been expecting Matt to put up more resistance once they arrived but to her surprise, the change of scenery seems to agree with him.

Strolling up to her side, Matt settles Nora on her feet again and she immediately runs off with a squeal, back to the shore and the waves that lap at her feet. He sighs, shaking his head. "She's your daughter. Do something."

"Oh, so she's mine when she's misbehaving? I believe she gets that from you, my love." She pushes his coat back into his hands and watches Nora stoop to gather rocks in the sand, the hem of her dress absolutely filthy. "She loves it here though, doesn't she?"

Jacket slung over his shoulder, Matt grunts.

She rolls her eyes, nudging him. "I'm hardly planning to move the entire family here, darling. No need to look concerned."

"I'm not concerned about that." He turns his head, eyeing her for a moment. "It's your hair in that bonnet. Ghastly."

Resisting the urge to close up her parasol and whack him with it, Alex glares. "It's a necessity, darling. Everyone wears them here."

He scowls. "I don't like it."

"I know, dear." She pats his arm, glancing at Nora to make sure she hasn't wandered too far. Curling her hand around his forearm, she offers him a sly smile. "Thank you for taking us. I know you aren't fond of the crowds."

"You rarely ask me for anything, pet." He keeps his eye on Nora collecting pebbles. "How could I refuse you?"

She smiles, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Easily. But you didn't." He turns his head slowly to look at her, dark gaze on hers. Her grin widens. "You're a good man who likes to make his wife and little girl happy. There's no use hiding it. I'm on to you."

Without a word, Matt ducks his head under her parasol and kisses her roughly, hands shoving her bonnet out of his way with a grunt of annoyance. She stifles a cry of surprise, melting into him. It had been absolutely shocking at first how much freer with his affections Matt is in public here, where no one knows him and no one is watching to make sure he remains the stone statue they all know and fear. Here, he is only Matt. Still brooding and downright surly, but more inclined to lift Nora into his arms in the middle of the street or drag Alex in for a kiss without warning, his hands wandering just enough to elicit disapproving gasps from those around them.

He pulls away with a distinctly satisfied smirk, nose brushing hers. "That's just between us."

She swallows, licking her lips. "Your secret is safe with me, darling."

"Mummy, look!" Nora tugs on her skirt and they both turn from each other to look down at their daughter. She holds up a white rock with a beaming grin. "It looks like a heart."

"It looks exactly like a heart," she says, squinting at it. "What a beautiful find, my love. We'll keep that one, alright?"

"It's for Benson," she says, tucking it away into the pocket of her dress for safekeeping. "I promised him a surprise."

"I'm sure he'll love it very much." Alex tugs Nora's bonnet onto her head and ties it under her chin, ignoring the girl's squirming attempts to get away. "Now come along so we can have lunch before Daddy gets terribly grumpy."

Nora giggles, latching onto Matt's hand as they begin to walk away from the shore. "He's funny when he's grumpy."

"That's because you haven't seen him truly grumpy," Alex teases, glancing at her husband as they climb the stairs up the embankment. "He turns into a great big growling bear."

Nora's eyes widen and she nearly stumbles as Matt helps her navigate the stairs, allowing him to lift her into his arms and walk more quickly. "Really?"

Alex nods solemnly. "Oh yes, it's quite a serious condition."

As they mount the stairs and stumble onto the path into town, Nora pats his cheek, ducking her head and looking directly into his eyes, peering with an intense scrutiny. "Is the bear in there now, Papa?"

"There is no bear, poppet," Matt assures her, turning to glare at Alex.

She laughs brightly, latching onto his arm. "The bear only comes out when Daddy gets really angry."

"Oh." Nora pokes at his cheek. "Like when people forget to pay you."

He sighs at Nora's cautious study of him, tightening his grip on her. "Something like that."

Apparently satisfied with that answer, Nora tucks her head under Matt's chin and clings to his neck. "You won't growl at me," she says, sounding very sure of herself. "You love me."

Heart melting a little, Alex watches her husband slide a gentle hand up Nora's back and into her long hair. "Clever girl," he murmurs.

They find a tearoom in town that looks low key enough not to mind Nora's sea salted hair spilling over her shoulders or the sand covering the hem of her dress, though Alex still can't help cringing whenever she lets herself study the wild thing she calls her daughter. Nora's grandmother would be horrified.

They settle at a table far away from the crowds. Alex unties her bonnet and lays it on her lap, winking when Matt offers her a pleased look. "Happy?"

"I'll be happy when I can take you home and burn the bloody thing."

"Brute."

"Nymph."

She feels her cheeks heat with a blush as he watches her from beneath his fringe. "I can't wait to get you home," she says, sniffing. "The sea air is making you shameless."

"Is that the only reason you can't wait?"

Alex nearly gapes at him. Honestly, the man will be the death of her.

Matt smirks, clearly enjoying his ability to rattle her.

"What's shameless?"

Startled, they both turn to find Nora watching their exchange with interest. Matt goes back to studying the table, pointedly not answering, and Alex clears her throat. "It means your daddy hasn't the common decency not to flirt in public," she murmurs under her breath.

Matt snorts softly.

She glares, turning to Nora. "Take off your bonnet indoors, my love. It's impolite."

Nora tugs at her bonnet with little hands, frowning. "Don't like it anyway," she says, for the hundredth time since the first day she was forced to wear the thing. "It's itchy."

Matt nods in agreement and Alex sighs, taking the bonnet from Nora and tucking it under the table with her own. "I know, but you need it to protect your skin from the sun. I can't have a little heathen with a tan wandering about, can I?" She rises from her seat, brushing a hand over Matt's shoulder. "Behave for your father, alright? I'll be right back."

Nora wrinkles her nose. "But why is it so bright, Papa? Doesn't the sun take naps here?"

Swallowing a smile as she walks away, Alex shakes her head. Nora's utter confusion over the continuous sunny weather here has been a source of entertainment since they arrived. She can't help but agree with her daughter. The sea air is nice and the sun is always welcome but she misses their little corner of the world the longer they're away. She misses the fog and the rain and the clouds always looming. It's home.

In the powder room, she powders her nose and tucks away the curls that had escaped their pins while in the confines of her bonnet. By the time she returns to the table, their tea and scones have arrived but Matt and Nora have yet to touch anything, preoccupied with their new company – a young woman with fluttering lashes and a simpering smile, one who likely stopped because she "simply had to say hello to the sweet little girl." Oddly enough, it only happens when Matt is left alone with Nora. Alex starts for their table with a sigh, wondering why she continues to leave him alone in public. Girls in this town can practically smell wealth.

Things are different here, where no one knows them. No one has heard of Matt and all young women tend to see is a tall, handsome man with an adorable little girl at his side. Matt had been right before – there is another reason she can't wait to go home. There, women are far too aware of Lord Smith's reputation to bat their eyes like desperate simpletons.

"How are you enjoying Brighton?"

Matt blinks at the girl, looking somewhat lost and more than a little uninterested, bless him. He looks relieved when he sees Alex approaching and the girl looks over her shoulder to see what he's staring at.

Smiling with entirely too much teeth, Alex slides into her seat next to her husband and asks, "Did our little one make a new friend, darling?"

The girl's smile falters. "Actually, I was just -"

Nora shakes her head quickly. "She's not my friend, Mummy. She wants to be Daddy's friend."

The girl flushes right up to her ears.

Usually, Alex scares them away herself – glaring or making some sort of snippy remark that can't quite be considered rude or sometimes even accidentally trodding on a silk slipper and apologizing with a smirk. God help her, she's become just as territorial as her possessive husband. He's a dreadful influence. So it's rather nice to have Nora's help just this once.

Nora blinks at her innocently, big blue eyes wide. "Is she being shameless, Mummy?"

Matt drops his head and Alex hides a smile in her napkin. "Nora, my love. Manners."

"I was just saying hello," the girl squeaks, positively red-faced now. "Pardon me, I must be going. Lovely to meet you."

Alex watches with a smirk as the girl hurries away, heading for the group of elegant-looking girls sitting at a table and watching the whole exchange. Matt huffs as she goes, lifting his head to eye her suspiciously. "You planned that, didn't you?"

"I did no such thing." Alex puts a scone slathered in extra cream on a plate and hands it to Nora, winking. "She's very clever, your daughter. Hardly needs any help from me."

"Pet, I wasn't -"

She scoffs. "Of course you weren't, silly man. But just because you aren't interested in some flighty girl doesn't mean I'll stand idly by and smile while she bats her eyes at you."

He takes her hand beneath the table, lacing their fingers together, and she feels the remaining tension in her body flee at the familiar comfort of his warm touch. "I thought we might take Nora into London before we return home."

She lifts a brow in surprise. "London? Darling, Brighton is positively uninhabited compared to London. You hate crowds." Abandoning her tea, she leans close to peer at him. "Who are you, and what have you done with my charmingly anti-social husband? Has the bear taken over?"

Nora lifts her head, looking eager. "Bear?"

Matt huffs, faintly embarrassed as he ducks his head. "She should see London. I think I can manage a day if you can."

She frowns. "Why couldn't I?"

"Well, I'm not the one snarling at any female who happens to speak to me." He raises a brow. "In fact, my dear, I'm beginning to think you are the bear at this table."

Nora gasps, clapping her hands. "Can I be a bear too, Papa?"

"When you're older." He glances at her with a grimace. "Right now, you're a cub."

She pouts. "I want to be a big bear."

"Then perhaps you should eat your lunch and gain your strength, hmm?" Nora returns her attention back to her plate with a disgruntled frown. He turns back to Alex, smirking. "You should eat too. I like my darling bear well fed so she won't eat young ladies as appetizers."

Alex glowers at him, wishing she didn't blush quite so easily around the cad. "You," she mutters. "Are a horrid man."

"And you are delightfully jealous. I had no idea." His dark eyes twinkle beneath his fringe. "I quite like it."

"You would," she mumbles resentfully, turning back to her scone.

He picks up his tea, still watching her with that predatory gleam.

Alex ignores him pointedly, glancing around the crowded tearoom.

She catches the eye of a passing gentleman who smiles as he walks by, tipping his hat to her. Good mood evaporating in an instant, Matt straightens in his seat and watches the man walk away like with any luck at all, the force of his glare will set him alight and erase him from the face of the planet.

"I suppose you miss home too," Alex points out gleefully. "All the men are too afraid to look at your wife."

Matt scowls into his tea. "London is overrated," he says, clearly sulking. "We should just return home."

She grins to herself, squeezing his hand under the table and using the other to slather her scone in cream. Perhaps they're both wild creatures jealousy guarding the other in the midst of civilization. She quite likes it too, though she'll never say. The last thing her grumpy bear needs is more incentive.

the detour that brings us home

Chapter Summary

Sometimes, she doesn't feel nearly old enough to answer to the name grandmother but she shifts her attention from the baby in her arms to the five-year-old boy sitting beside her on the picnic blanket.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone's Letter to Demeter

Lucy looks exactly how Alex imagines Nora must have looked when she was a baby. Her eyes are big and blue, her cheeks full and rosy, and there's a rather shocking amount of dark hair on top of her head for one so young. Alex cradles the child to her bosom and smiles down at her as the girl blinks up at her. While she sometimes wishes she'd been able to hold Nora when she was a squirming babe instead of a fierce little toddler, the baby in her arms is a close second.

"Grandmother, how am I doing?"

Sometimes, she doesn't feel nearly old enough to answer to such a name but she shifts her attention from the baby in her arms to the five-year-old boy sitting beside her on the picnic blanket. The day is relatively warm and the rain has held off so she'd brought the children out for some fresh air. She remembers only too well how cranky Nora used to get without a little room to run around.

Nicholas had only left her side long enough to gather a bouquet of wildflowers from the heath before he planted himself down right next to her. He's been working in silence ever since, dark hair slipping into his eyes and tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. He holds up the fruit of his labors, half-finished, and looks at her hopefully with big brown eyes. In that moment, he looks so much like his father that Alex can't help smiling widely as she plucks the creation from his hand.

"Let's see," she says, pretending to inspect it carefully. The wildflowers have been twined carefully together, just as she'd instructed, and she marvels at the boy's ability to follow directions so well. Another trait from his father, no doubt. Nora had to be told something a hundred times before it penetrated that stubborn head. "It's going to be the prettiest crown of flowers I've ever seen."

Nicholas beams shyly at her – another Parker trait – and snatches it back. "You think Mother will like it?"

"I think she'll wear it everywhere." She winks, turning back to the squirming bundle in her arms. "What do you think? Should we make one for Lucy too?"

Nicholas peers at his baby sister, looking thoughtful. "Wouldn't she just try to eat it? She tries to eat everything."

Snorting quietly, Alex says, "So did you, in case you've forgotten. Your grandfather still talks about his pocket watch you drowned beyond hope in a mouthful of drool."

Nicholas flushes, ducking his head and pretending to focus on his task extra hard. "It was an accident," he mumbles. "I was only little."

She laughs. "Yes, you were. And we've forgiven you, just as you'll have to forgive Lucy." She lifts the baby to look directly into her wide blue eyes. "What do you say, little imp? Would you like a pretty crown too, hmm?"

Lucy coos, blinking at her.

Nicholas grins crookedly. "I think that's a yes, Grandmother."

"Me too." She smiles. "Go fetch some more flowers and we'll make her one."

As he scrambles from the blanket and races across the yard to gather more supplies, Alex watches him with a fond smile and only notices the extra company when her husband takes her hand. She jumps, startling Lucy into fussing, and presses a hand to her heart. "Darling, I am not as young as I used to be. You must stop doing that."

"Nonsense, you're positively spry." Somehow, even now, with graying hair and lines around his eyes, he still manages to look boyishly amused. "I wasn't trying to scare you, pet. I thought you saw me."

"Well, I didn't." She frowns, more because it's expected of her than anything else. "You're like a bloody phantom."

"Cursing in front of the grandchildren?" He tsks softly, leaning in to kiss her temple. "Manners, pet."

She allows him to take Lucy from her, easing the baby into his arms and forgetting entirely to think up some sort of witty reply about his manners in front of the children because the sight of him cradling a baby in his arms still renders her a useless puddle of a woman. He drops his eyes, gazing at his granddaughter like a lovesick fool, and her heart leaps into her throat. She forgets about their bickering and nestles in close to his side, her head on his shoulder as she joins him in looking at Lucy's content little face.

"She looks like Nora," he says softly, tapping the baby's little button nose.

Alex nods, smiling. "Quieter though."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "Give her time."

"Is this enough, Grandmother?" Nicholas comes bounding up to them with a handful of purple wildflowers, flushed and out of breath from running as he sinks to his knees next to her.

"That's perfect, sweetheart. Thank you." She holds out a hand and drops the flowers into her palm. "I'll make Lucy's, shall I? That way you can finish your mummy's."

Nicholas nods eagerly, scrambling to pick up the half-finished crown lying on the blanket beside him. "Mother and Lucy will match."

"They'll look darling," she agrees, leaning over Matt to tickle Lucy's belly with gentle fingers.

Nicholas works in silence for a few minutes, leaving Alex and Matt to bask in the quiet, peaceful afternoon. The children visit most days but more often than not, they're all cooped up in the house and watching rain patter against the windowpanes. Spring on the moors is a nasty business. With summer coming, Alex finds herself looking forward to longer visits from her daughter and grandchildren. She likes standing outside in the twilight with Matt at her side, watching the little family walk home in the evening gloom.

Home isn't far, thankfully. Nora and Parker had built a house only a few minutes away, still on Matt's property. With Parker working for Matt, it hadn't made sense for them to go anywhere else. These days, while Matt still fields visits from clients, Parker is the one to do the collecting when the time comes. He and Nora are in town now, gathering payment from debtors.

They'll be home soon, hopefully. Alex leans into Matt's side and closes her eyes, looking forward to all of them dining here this evening. She's always happiest when all of her family is under one roof together.

"Grandmother, will you tell the story about when you first met Grandfather again?"

Opening her eyes with an amused smile at the pleading hope in Nicholas' voice, Alex shakes her head and beside her, Matt sighs. She could throttle Nora for telling the boy bedtime stories about his grandparents. "Why on earth are you so fond of that story, Nic?"

The little boy shrugs, eyes still on his project. "I don't know, I just am. Please, Grandmother?"

Beside her, Matt watches her with a smirk, looking entirely too amused at her expense. She narrows her eyes at him, lifting a brow. "Why don't you have your grandfather tell it? You've never heard it from him before."

Nicholas gasps, lifting his head to look at Matt eagerly. "Oh yes, please! Please, Grandfather?"

Matt glowers at her and she smiles serenely, dropping her hand to clasp one of Lucy's kicking feet. "You don't want to hear that story, lad."

"Yes, I do!" Nicholas pouts – definitely a Nora trait, that one. "Tell me about meeting Grandmother. What did she look like?"

"Exactly as she does now." Matt eyes her fondly and she blushes, swatting at him.

"Don't lie to the boy," she murmurs.

"Not a lie, pet." He turns back to Nicholas. "She had the prettiest hair I'd ever seen."

Nicholas beams. "Like a curly lion," he supplies.

Stifling a smile, Matt nods. "That's exactly it, lad."

"What else, Grandfather?"

"She was wearing a filthy dress because she'd been out wandering in the mud."

Nicholas gapes at him, looking suspicious. "But Grandmother never lets us get our clothes dirty!"

"Yes, turned into quite the little hypocrite, hasn't she?" Matt smirks and Alex elbows him, unable to hide a grin anyway.

"You still thought she was pretty, didn't you, Grandfather?"

"Oh, of course." Matt turns serious once more, eyeing the little miniature Parker in front of them with quiet humor. "More beautiful than any of the other maidens with clean dresses and neat hair." Alex rolls her eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of meeting his gaze. "I loved her instantly, of course."

She bites her lip against a grin, keeping her eyes on Lucy. Even now, she never tires of knowing for him, it had been as close to love at first sight as a man like Matt could manage.

Nicholas stares breathlessly, hanging on his every word as if he's never heard the story before. "Did you say hello?"

Matt frowns thoughtfully. "No, I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know." Matt slides his fingers over hers on top of Lucy's belly, a warm, comforting touch. "Cowardice, I suppose."

"You're not a coward, Grandfather," Nicholas insists vehemently, with that blind faith that comes with being so young and idolizing those he loves. "You're brave."

Alex lifts her head, watching Matt's mouth twitch. "About some things, maybe," he admits, and she can tell by the devilish twinkle in his eye that he's about to say something mischievous. "But your grandmother can be quite terrifying."

Nicholas nods solemnly. "Like when she catches me accidentally stepping on her flowers."

This time, Matt really does break into a grin. "Exactly like that, lad."

Huffing, Alex leans away from Matt and begins to quickly but carefully twine the flowers in her lap into a crown for Lucy. "Honestly, the pair of you. I'm hardly a wicked villain in a fairy tale."

"Villain, no." Matt shifts Lucy in his arms, glancing slyly at her. "But wicked you most certainly are, pet."

"Cad," she murmurs, smiling.

Matt presses his knee against hers and wisely says nothing, long fingers combing through Lucy's soft, downy hair.

Making a quiet noise of triumph, Nicholas holds his creation aloft and looks to Alex. "I think it's finished, Grandmother. How does it look?"

Lifting her head from her own struggle with wildflowers, Alex beams at the sight of Nicholas' finished product. "Let's test it out, shall we?" She takes it carefully from him, turns, and swiftly deposits it on top of Matt's head. Her husband sighs at the treatment, eyeing her dubiously, but makes no move to take it off, letting her have her fun.

The sight of vibrant purple flowers among the salt and pepper of Matt's thick hair immediately sends Nicholas into a fit of giggles and he claps a little hand over his mouth, shoulders shaking.

"You look lovely, Grandfather."

Matt scowls at him, which doesn't faze Nicholas in the slightest.

Hiding a smile, Alex cups his cheek in her hand. "He's right you know. Purple suits you."

He leans into her touch, eyes softening as he rumbles, "You suit me."

She allows her lips to curl broadly at that, leaning in.

No longer giggling, Nicholas hedges, "Should I close my eyes now, Grandmother?"

Her smile widens and she breaks into soft laughter. "Yes, dear."

As Nicholas covers his eyes with a hand, Matt closes the distance between them and kisses her with a low growl, Lucy snug and quiet between them. He tastes like brandy, warm and familiar. Alex grins, raking a hand through his hair and pulling the crown of wildflowers from his head.

"You still suit me too," she whispers, watching with a feeling of pride as his eyes darken.

"Are you done yet?"

Matt sighs, leaning away from her.

Alex grins. "It's safe, Nic. Open your eyes."

As soon as he does, his whole face lights up and before Alex can turn to see what he's looking at, he shouts, "Mother and Father are back!"

She turns, glancing over her shoulder, and spies Nora and Parker strolling across the lawn hand in hand. She waves at them, smiling widely, and Nora calls out, "What's for dinner, Mum? I'm starving!"

Matt snorts beside her. "Sometimes, it feels like she never actually left."

Smiling, she watches Nicholas run up to his mother, presenting the crown he'd made to her as Parker stoops to lift him into his arms. Nora expresses her delight over the gift, placing it on her head with a beaming grin and leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss her son's cheek in thanks. Dropping her eyes to Lucy still nestled comfortably in Matt's arms, Alex sighs with content. "That's how I like it."

"So do I, pet." Matt laces their fingers together, kissing her temple. "So do I."

persephone, take her head upon your knee

Chapter Summary

Alex wakes to the sound of her grandson crying.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Prayer to Persephone by Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Alex wakes to the sound of her grandson crying.

For a moment, in her state somewhere between waking and sleeping, she's afraid she's having the dream again – the one about her lost baby boy. Slowly, as her eyes flutter open to the dark of her bedchamber and her gaze focuses on the fire burning low in the grate, she realizes two things.

One, she hasn't had that dream in years. Two, Nora must be up and pacing with her fussy newborn.

She smiles sleepily, curling into the warmth of her husband.

He tightens his grip around her waist, nuzzling his face into her neck and grumbling, "Should I be grieved we missed this part of parenthood? Because I'm not."

Alex rakes her fingers through his hair. "Don't be horrid."

"Tired."

"Sleep then."

"Can't with the lad screaming bloody murder. What the devil is she doing to him?"

"She isn't doing anything. Sometimes babies just cry, darling."

He shudders, holding her closer. "Make it stop, pet."

Alex drops a kiss into his hair. "You'll have to let me go first."

He stubbornly refuses, pressing his mouth to the crook of her neck.

"Darling…"

Sighing, he releases her and she slips from bed before he can change his mind and draw her back in. Reaching for her dressing gown and slipping into it, she watches Matt shut his eyes with a scowl, reaching for her pillow and burying his face in it. Tying the sash on her gown, she turns to pad from the room but his voice stops her. "Don't be long."

"Why?"

He opens one eye and somehow still manages to glare. "Because my sleep is rubbish without you if you must know."

She grins. "I do know. Just like to hear you say it."

"Wench."

"Rest, my love. I'll be back soon."

She takes a candle with her, wandering through the dark house and following the sound of Nicholas' wails to their source, down the stairs and along a corridor in the left wing of the house where Nora and Parker have been staying since the birth of their son. It only made sense for Nora to have the child here, where Alex could help her recuperate and look after her grandson. With winter fast approaching, even the short journey across the moors to Nora and Parker's home would be an effort in the cold wind and snow. They'll pass away the winter months here and in the spring, they'll return to their own home.

Alex smiles as she nears the parlour in this wing of the house, thrilled to have her family under one roof for months. Nora visits daily and Parker is always about since becoming a partner in Matt's business, but having them here constantly almost feels like when Nora was a little girl again. With one tiny, squalling difference.

Peering around the doorframe, Alex watches her daughter pace the length of the parlour, bouncing her infant son in her arms. She looks exhausted, dressing gown hanging from her thin shoulders, long hair limp and trailing down her back in a loose braid. Dark circles line her eyes and her mouth is drawn into a perpetual pout. She hums to her baby but Alex can barely hear it over his wailing cries and eventually, Nora gives up with a huff.

"Come on," she pleads. "Just be quiet for a little while. An hour! I would be ecstatic to have an hour of bloody quiet."

Alex smiles softly, finally pushing away from the doorframe and entering the room. "Need any help?"

Nora whirls at the sound of her voice, her whole face softening in relief. "Mum! Thank God."

Taking it as a yes, Alex steps forward with her arms outstretched. Nora hands her crying son over with an eagerness that makes Alex bite her lip against a grin. "Rough night?"

"He was so adorable that first day." Nora collapses onto a settee, draping an arm over her face and shutting her eyes. "And now I'm quite convinced it was all an act. He's actually the spawn of some horrible demon sent to drive me mad."

"Well," Alex ventures, smirking. "He is yours. Isn't that the same thing?"

Nora lifts her arm from her face and glares. "I thought you were here to help. If I wanted pithy remarks I could go and get Father."

"Patience, my love." Alex shifts Nicholas in her arms to cradle him close, beaming down at his little face, blood red with the effort of crying for hours at a time. "Hello there, my little lad. What's all this then? Fussing all night and keeping your poor Mummy awake – it's disgraceful."

Nicholas stops crying to peer up at her, whimpering.

Gaping, Nora sits up to stare.

"There now," Alex coos, stroking a finger over his cheek. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"How on earth did you -" Nora scrubs a tired hand over her face and Alex watches her eyes fill up with frustrated tears. "He hates me. My own son hates me!"

Alex laughs incredulously, shaking her head as she sways in place with Nicholas. "Darling girl, he does not hate you."

Nora gestures helplessly to her son. "I hold him and he screams. You hold him and he's quiet as a bloody church mouse! What do you call that if not total hatred for the woman who spent sixteen hours pushing him out of her -"

"No need to be crude, my love." Alex lifts a scolding eyebrow and Nora crosses her arms over her chest, looking more like a defiant teenage girl than a grown woman with a child of her own. "Nicholas is a baby. He has no sense of hatred. It's a learned emotion and he hasn't been around his grandfather nearly enough yet to pick up on it."

Nora snorts, tucking her legs beneath her and resting her head on the arm of the settee. "How did you do it, Mum? How did you make him fall in love with you?"

"Your Father?" Alex frowns. "Well, I threw things at him. Heavy books, mostly."

Nora huffs. "Not Papa. Nicholas."

"Oh." Glancing down at her very first grandchild nestled against her chest, his little lashes beginning to flutter closed in sleep, Alex shakes her head and sighs. "He doesn't know enough to love yet, my dear. He's a helpless infant in a big, cold, scary new place where nothing makes sense and he doesn't understand the language. He only knows who he feels safe and warm with and who he doesn't."

Lower lip trembling, Nora ducks her head. "He doesn't feel safe with me?"

"Oh, lovely, that isn't what I meant at all." Alex crosses the room and settles next to her daughter, shifting Nicholas to one side and pulling her daughter in to the other. Nora curls up against her, her head on her shoulder as she sniffles. "You're too tense, that's all. He makes you nervous."

"Of course he does!" Nora wipes at her cheeks. "He's so tiny and helpless and Mother, I haven't the slightest idea how to look after him!"

"That's what I'm here for, silly girl," Alex explains patiently, turning her head and pressing her lips to her daughter's temple. "But you mustn't be so tense around him. Nicholas senses it and it upsets him."

"He loves Parker." Nora sniffles. "He loves you and Papa. You've all bonded with him and I feel like such a failure, Mother."

Alex sighs, smiling despite herself. "This sounds very familiar, you know."

"How do you mean?" Nora toys with the sash on Alex's dressing gown, nestling in like a small child. Alex holds her close, cradling Nicholas, and gives herself a brief moment to savor having both of her babies in her arms at once.

"Well, when you first came to us," she begins softly. "I was quite convinced that I must have been missing some sort of genetic code that made a woman a mother. I'd always wanted to be a mother, and then you came along – this darling little angel bundled up in Matt's coat. I didn't pray anymore by that point but if I had, you would have been an answer to it."

Nora smiles into her shoulder, lifting a slender hand to play with Alex's curls.

"But it didn't take me long to realize you'd rather spend all of your time with Matt instead of me. He was your favorite." When Nora begins to shake her head, Alex shushes her quietly. "What I didn't realize is that emotionally inept and gruff exterior aside, your father spent his whole life around children. They didn't make him nervous. And I was so eager that I suppose you could sense it. But I loved you fiercely and that was enough for you. You gave me hugs and called me Mummy and my god, it was more than I'd ever hoped for." She kisses Nora's brow, eyes watering. "And one day, it wasn't only Matt you lit up for. It wasn't only him you wanted at bedtime or when you were hurt. I didn't force it – it just happened."

"That's what I need to do with Nicholas?"

Alex nods. "Relax, lovely. Relax and be patient. You're his mother and he will feel safer with you than with anyone else. You'll be his safe haven and his healer, his vanquisher of nightmares and keeper of bedtime stories. You'll be his whole world." She smiles softly. "Until he grows up and has babies of his own."

Nora tightens her grip on Alex, nuzzling her face into her curls. "You're still all of those things, Mum. You've always been all of those things." She links their fingers together over Nicholas' tummy and together, they feel the soft rise and fall of his little body as he breathes in sleep. "I don't remember much about when I first arrived. I was so young. But I do remember the beautiful lady who took me from the arms of the man on the horse. I didn't know where I was but I looked up at you and you were smiling. I felt safer than I'd ever felt with my relatives. You were my mother from the moment you held me in your arms, just as I am with Nicholas." She grins. "The only difference is that I had to wait a few years to find my mother."

Blinking away tears, Alex buries her face against the top of Nora's head and manages around the lump in her throat, "I don't believe you'll have to wait that long with Nicholas."

"I certainly hope not." Nora huffs but her fingers tighten around Alex's in quiet comfort. "I do have the advantage of breast milk."

Alex snorts, laughing through her tears.

Nora beams, lounging against her and touching a gentle finger to her son's tiny foot. "Can't we just stay here forever? Parker won't mind."

"I'm sure he would." Alex pats her head. "You'll be fine, my love. And when you need me, I'm only a short walk away."

Nora pouts. "You could just move in with us. Only for the first five years of his life or so. Unless I've got another baby by then, in which case I shall require your services for a bit longer."

Swallowing her laughter, Alex shakes her head. "I think your father would have something to say about that."

"He can't possibly need you more than I do." They both pause, glancing at each other, before breaking into quiet laughter again. "Alright, I suppose he does. For a grown man who's supposed

to be so bloody fearsome, he's far too dependent on you."

"I'm his raison d'être." Alex beams and Nora rolls her eyes.

"What's all this giggling about?" They both glance up and find Parker lounging in the doorway, looking rumpled and half-asleep. "It's the middle of the night, you know. All the decent folk are in bed."

"We've never been decent." Nora sniffs. "We're Smiths."

"Our poor son." Parker grins. "Nothing but Smiths and gypsies in his blood. He'll be a heathen for certain."

"Well, I used to be decent folk and I can tell you, heathens are much more fun." Alex deposits her grandchild into the arms of her daughter, brushing a kiss over his forehead. "Now what have I told you about sleeping while your little one sleeps? Off to bed, both of you."

"See what happens when we move back in?" Parker smirks at Nora. "We've got a bedtime again."

Nora nods in agreement. "And no story! Outrageous."

Waving them out of the room and into the corridor, Alex kisses Nora's cheek and then Parker's, smiling. "Goodnight, children."

Nora hugs her just a little too tight. "Thanks, Mum."

Alex watches them disappear down the hall, some unnamed warmth unfurling in her chest and wrapping around her heart. Thoughts drifting to her husband upstairs, she turns and walks slowly back through the manor and up the stairs, holding her rapidly melting candle aloft to light the way.

In their bedchamber, she snuffs out the candle and sets it aside, navigating her way through the room by memory alone. She sheds her dressing gown and drapes it over a chaise, crawling into bed. Instantly, Matt slips a strong arm around her waist, drawing her into his chest. Alex tucks her head under his chin, fitting snugly against him. "Still awake?"

He grunts.

She smiles, biting her lip. "Nora was thinking I should move in with them for a while in the spring. Just to help out until they're settled -"

"Out of the question."

"It would only be for a little while and it isn't like they live far away -"

His arm tightens around her waist. "No."

"You could visit me every day -"

"You're not going anywhere, pet." He grumbles, still half-asleep. "You're needed here."

She beams into the warm skin of his neck. "Yes, that's what I told her."

He huffs. "You're bloody impossible."

That warm, content feeling in her chest growing by the minute, Alex snuggles close and stifles her laughter, closing her eyes. "Goodnight, darling."

the primal thirst that burns all women's throats

Chapter Summary

"Mum," she begins carefully, watching Alex quickly lift her head with a frozen smile. Nora hesitates, uneasy. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly, my love." She reaches out a hand and pats Nora's, still smiling. "Why do you ask?"

'Because you've trapped me in the kitchen with you, wrangled me into sitting at the table and then proceeded to let your tea grow cold while you stare broodily into it with an intensity that could rival Father', Nora thinks darkly. Outwardly, she clears her throat. "It's only, you seem a bit distracted."

Chapter Notes

Story title from Persephone by Emily Palermo.

When her mother corners her in the kitchen and practically herds her to the table, Nora knows something strange is happening. Generally, her mother tries to stay far away from the kitchen – particularly after that unfortunate incident at Hobbs' going away party. As much as Nora adores her mother and thinks she can do practically anything if she sets her mind to it, domestic tasks like cooking are not one of them.

They sit together at the little kitchen table where the servants usually eat in silence, Alex staring at her tea and avoiding her gaze while Nora studies her mother and tries to understand what this is all about. Every day her wedding draws closer – her heart skips a beat and she stifles a grin at the thought – the quieter and more fidgety her mother grows. She's starting to think perhaps Alex is worried about losing her little girl or something equally silly.

"Mum," she begins carefully, watching Alex quickly lift her head with a frozen smile. Nora hesitates, uneasy. "Are you alright?"

"Perfectly, my love." She reaches out a hand and pats Nora's, still smiling. "Why do you ask?"

Because you've trapped me in the kitchen with you, wrangled me into sitting at the table and then proceeded to let your tea grow cold while you stare broodily into it with an intensity that could rival Father, Nora thinks darkly. Outwardly, she clears her throat. "It's only, you seem a bit

distracted."

"Do I?"

Her mother is absolute rubbish at feigning innocence.

"You know, just because I'm getting married doesn't mean things will change between us. Parker and I aren't going far, just a few miles." She reaches for her mother's hand, squeezing her fingers. "I'll still be here practically every day and you'll still be able to scold me for my appalling manners and dirty clothes."

"Well, of course, lovely." Alex bestows her with a genuine, beaming grin – the kind that Nora knows makes her father agree to just about anything in order to see it. "We'll be so close I won't be able to miss you."

"Oh." She frowns. "Then what on earth is the matter?"

Alex bites her lip. "Am I being obvious?"

"Mum, you're being quiet. I'm worried about you," Nora laughs softly. "What's going on?"

She fidgets, twisting the fabric of her silk skirts in her hand. "Nora, my love," she begins hesitantly. "You and Parker haven't… I know how young people can be and everything is so new and exciting. I know you're in love and you feel very passionately about each other but you've – well, you've waited, haven't you?"

Nora blinks at her. "Waited?"

"To have intercourse."

Eyes widening, Nora feels her cheeks heat with a furious blush as she hisses, "Mother!"

Alex doesn't budge, apparently feeling braver now that the question is finally out in the open.

Nora idly wonders just how long she's been worrying about it. "Well, have you?"

"Of course we've waited!" She sputters, incensed. "For one thing you've raised me to be a lady if you'll remember and for another, you've taught Parker to be a gentleman. Besides, Father would kill him if he ever found out otherwise."

Looking relieved, her mother visibly relaxes. "Oh, thank heavens. I've been quite concerned about that." She picks up her tea and sips it with a content sigh, leaving Nora to gape at her in silence. "Now we can move on to the more interesting part."

Faintly terrified to discover this mortifying conversation isn't over, Nora manages, "Interesting part?"

Her mother nods eagerly, setting her teacup back onto the delicate china saucer. "A woman's wedding night can be a little scary if she's unprepared, so I thought we might have a chat about the new facet of your relationship with Parker before the well, the big event, I suppose." Folding her hands diplomatically in front of her, Alex fixes her with a kind, curious look full of motherly affection. "Now, what have you heard about sex?"

Nora blinks at her, wondering if she's having a nightmare.

Her mother begins to fidget again. "I only ask because I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I know a lot of women look upon sex as a sort of marital duty they must perform to keep their husbands happy and faithful but I don't want you to feel that way about it because it's… it's a beautiful, intimate act that will only bring the two of you closer." She grins. "And it's actually quite enjoyable if you have a considerate lover."

The words conjure some rather disturbing images about just who the considerate lover is that her mother is referring to and Nora groans, dropping her head into her hands, cheeks burning. "Mother, please -"

"Now, it might hurt a little the first time and you'll be sore for a few days after but you'll hardly mind, I promise." Alex taps her fingers against the table, thinking. "A lot of people say you'll bleed but you shouldn't – not if Parker is gentle and does it properly."

Speechless, Nora stares at her mother and tries to manage something other than furious blushing. So far, her attempts are unsuccessful.

Her mother finally looks up and sees her face, smiling gently. "You can't be shy about this sort of thing, my love. You can't be afraid to tell him what you want – what feels good and what just isn't working. Otherwise, how will he know? I remember your father always encouraged open communication, right from the beginning."

Nora makes a pitiful squeaking noise, burying her face in her hands.

"Now, your father and I never concerned ourselves with protection but you're young and I'm sure you're perfectly capable of having children. If you don't want them right away, you'll have to ensure that Parker -"

Nora holds up a hand, shaking her head. "Oh good heavens, I think I'm going to faint."

Her mother sighs, looking amused, as if Nora is being adorably dramatic. "Don't be silly," she says, sipping her tea. "You're my daughter – it's my job to have this discussion with you before your wedding. If I don't tell you these things, who will?"

Nora huffs. "Well, who told you?"

"No one." Her mother shrugs, lowering her eyes. "I just had to discover it on my own. My mother was far too grief-stricken about my marriage to bother telling me anything. She spent the night before my wedding sobbing into her pillow." She frowns, looking thoughtful. "So did I, as a matter of fact."

Heart squeezing a little in her chest at the thought, Nora rubs her fingers firmly over her sternum, swallowing. Her parents are so frightfully happy now that it's strange to imagine their rather unpleasant beginning, like it happened to some other couple.

This entire conversation has been absolutely mortifying but she can see that her mother is trying to do for her what her own mother never did. One thing her parents have always tried to do is arm her for any situation. Her father insisted on self-defense lessons and a string of large, overbearing dogs once poor old Alastor finally passed away. Her mother armed her with knowledge and she supposes this unfortunate conversation is just an extension of it. One last lesson before she lets her go.

Clearly, this is important to her mother. Eyeing her for a long moment, Nora finally sighs. "All

right. Go ahead."

Alex looks hopeful. "Really?"

Smiling, Nora nods. If this will put her mother at ease then she'll deal with a little awkwardness. "What else should I know?"

"Well…" She flounders, apparently at a loss now that she has full permission. "I suppose we should talk about the importance of intimacy – before and after. Foreplay is important, you know. As is flirting. Keeps a marriage interesting."

Fully aware of her parents' tendency to flirt openly and right in front of her, Nora can only nod. "So I've noticed."

"Imp."

She smiles. "Come on then, what else?"

"Erm, consent? Yes, consent." Her mother sits up a little straighter, pushing aside her tea. "If you're not in the mood, nothing happens, understand? Your father has never touched me unless I wanted it and that's how it should be. And the same goes for you, of course. Don't pester him if he's had a long day and just wants to sleep, all right?"

Nora nods faintly, wondering if she should be writing all of this down in case her mind decides to erase the entire scarring incident later.

"Now, let's see…" Alex taps her chin with her fingers, squinting. "There was something else I wanted to mention… Oh yes!" She lights up, beaming as she leans in close and whispers, "There is this magic little button down there -" She gestures briefly to her lap. "And you should know about it just in case Parker doesn't, in which case you must show him because good lord, it will make you see stars."

"I see." Nora purses her lips, wondering if she should mention she knows quite a lot about the clitoris thanks to her father's books she discovered hidden away in the library when she was fifteen. Finally deciding against it, she only nods. "I'll try to remember that." She pauses politely, waiting to see if her mother will speak again. When she only picks up her tea, Nora clears her throat. "Is that all?"

Her mother nods, smiling serenely. "Unless you have questions."

Nora shakes her head.

"Well." Alex smoothes the bodice of her dress, sighing. "I feel much better."

Nora stifles a snort, glad that at least one of them does. It's certainly much more knowledge about her parents' life behind closed doors than Nora ever wanted to know but to be honest, she can't help but be grateful for the advice. She doesn't know much about relationships. What she does know, she has learned from watching her mother and father. They bicker, of course, but for the most part, they seem caught in endless days of bliss, making eyes at each other from across the dining table or strolling through the moors holding hands, snogging in the library and forgetting to lock the door. She shudders to herself, pushing the memory away. Whatever it is they're doing, clearly it works. So she mentally notes all of her mother's advice and tucks it away, fighting back another case of embarrassing red cheeks.

Her mother rises from the table and crosses to the kitchen cupboards, pulling out a jar of biscuits Iris had made that morning. Carrying it to the table and setting it down between them, she opens the jar and takes one out, nibbling on it. "I certainly hope your father's talk with Parker goes just as well."

In the middle of foraging for her own biscuit, Nora snaps her head up to gape at her mother. "Father is talking to Parker? About – about what we just talked about?"

Alex nods, biting her lip against a mischievous grin. "Which one do you think will die of embarrassment first?"

Clapping a hand over her mouth, Nora giggles. Oh, her poor love.

Before today, he would never have guessed Lord Smith could blush. Not that he'd ever mention it for fear of his life. Well, that and he has absolutely no room to talk considering he's quite certain his complexion will never return to normal again.

Matt clears his throat, fingers tight around his glass of brandy. "You'll take care of her."

It isn't a question but Parker nods anyway. "Of course I will."

"You'll make sure she's happy and comfortable every single time is that clear? Nothing happens that she does not consent to."

"Of course not." Parker frowns. "I'm hardly some uncivilized brute about to carry your daughter off, you know. I love her."

Matt softens, eyeing him with reluctant fondness. "I know."

"Right." Parker nods. "Good."

"Take this." Matt opens a drawer in his desk and pulls out a book, handing it over.

Parker takes it from him, frowning down at the cover. "What is it?"

"An education."

Idly flipping through it, his eyes widen. "Oh. Thanks."

Reaching for his decanter of brandy, Matt holds it up with a questioning eyebrow.

Parker nods again, trying to make this as painless as possible for both of them. He imagines Alex must have forced him to have this conversation with his future son-in -law and he can't help but wonder if Nora is getting the same treatment elsewhere in the house. All the same, he can't feel sorry for her when he's in here with her stern father and his boss while she's probably off giggling about it with Alex. It still feels strange to call her Alex. To him, she has always been my Lady or Mistress or in some cases, Missus but never Alex. She'd insisted though, once he and Nora were properly engaged.

Matt hands him a drink and Parker takes it gratefully. "So… is this what you read before you married Alex?"

Lifting his eyes from his drink, Matt glares.

"Sorry, no personal questions. Got it." He grins, ducking his head. "She seems pretty happy though so clearly it was time well spent -"

Matt says nothing but his fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his glass.

"Yes, you're right, I should definitely shut up." He grips his book. "Erm, good talk?"

Matt nods, still scowling at him.

They both drink.

From somewhere down the corridor, he hears Nora laughing.

every year we will return alive

Chapter Summary

There is nothing that makes him as angry as feeling helpless does. He hasn't felt this way since Alex lost their first little one and he prowls the corridor with tense shoulders, hands curled into fists as he listens to his daughter cry out in pain.

Chapter Notes

Story title from Diary by Rachel Zucker.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

There is nothing that makes him as angry as feeling helpless does. He hasn't felt this way since Alex lost their first little one and he prowls the corridor with tense shoulders, hands curled into fists as he listens to his daughter cry out in pain. As much as he still mourns the loss of that child, some small, petty part of him can't help but be grateful he never had to experience this with Alex. The thought of her in this much pain makes him physically ill.

Parker isn't doing much better, sitting on the floor right outside the door, slumped against the wall with his eyes shut and a grimace on his face. "This is my fault," he mutters, sounding wretched.

Matt whirls on him, glaring. "Yes," he seethes. "It is."

Parker doesn't move and his expression doesn't change, but he clearly takes no offense to being heaped with blame in Matt's ire. Inexplicably irritated about that, Matt paces past him, head down, scowling viciously at the floor as on the other side of the wall, Nora cries out for her mother. He hears the low, reassuring murmur of Alex's voice next and he pauses, listening in the hopes that perhaps just the sound of her voice might calm him too. It usually does.

He can't make out anything she's saying but for a few moments, it is Alex he hears and not Nora wailing like the little beast inside her is tearing her in half. Matt closes his eyes and presses his hand against the wall, drinking in the moment of peace and wondering if maybe it's all over now. But they would have heard the little one cry, wouldn't they? If it's healthy then – but what if it isn't healthy? What if Nora suffers the same affliction Alex had? Matt draws in a ragged breath. What if she too will know the loss of a child?

Just as he's working himself into a good and proper panic, Nora cries out again and he hates that it's actually preferable to the alternative. Growling, Matt pushes away from the wall and begins to pace again. "It's been hours. How long can this possibly take?"

"Hours, apparently."

Not in the mood for Parker's cheek, Matt bites out, "I will kill you and dispose of you while everyone is distracted, boy. Don't think I won't." When Parker almost smiles, he scowls. "We already have an heir now. There's no further use for you."

"Except your undying affection for me." Parker grins wearily, dark circles under his eyes and his hair an appalling mess from running his fingers through it. "Besides, what if it's a girl? Don't want her running the business, do you?"

Matt eyes him without mirth. "I can't see how it would be any different than you running the business."

"Ouch."

From the other side of the wall, Nora shrieks.

Parker flinches, all humor draining from his face as he drops his head into his hands. Matt watches him with some strange feeling in his chest resembling pity, wondering how he might be coping if it were Alex in there. He doubts he would handle the situation with nearly as much grace, imagining he probably would have ended up with another ruined study by the time the child finally came along.

After a moment, Parker scrubs his face roughly and lifts his head, looking to Matt helplessly. "It's normal, right? That it's taking this long?"

He paces away from Parker and his pleading eyes, hands shoved into his pockets.

"It's just – she's so tiny." Parker breathes out shakily. "How much of this can her body take?"

He was never there for the birth of any of his sister's children and his own child came along as a

four-year-old girl trying to steal fruit in the marketplace. He has no real experience on which to draw to give Parker or himself the reassurance they need.

For the hundredth time since Nora went into labor and he began pacing this corridor, he wishes for Alex. She's much better at comforting and nurturing than he could ever hope to be. He needs her strength and her wisdom right now, needs her warm hand in his and that breathtaking smile that promises her belief in him and her faith that everything will be perfectly fine. But for once, someone else needs her more than he does. Nora needs her mother and right now, Parker needs him, whether Matt likes it or not.

"Women have babies all the time," he snaps. "And some of them are in labor for days."

Parker looks instantly ill and Matt bites his tongue, silently cursing himself. He really needs Alex. "Days?" He repeats numbly. "Days? I can't do this for days!"

Matt whirls, frowning savagely. "If my daughter can be in agony with your spawn for days then you will damn well sit out here and listen for just as long."

Chastened, Parker massages his fingertips at his temple, looking defeated. "I just want it to stop," he says softly. "She's hurting and I can't do anything about it. I can't help her; I can't make it go away. It's torture." He slams a fist against the floor, his mouth a grim line. "Is it normal to feel angry? Because I am so furious I could strangle something with my bare hands."

Matt stares at him for a long moment, wondering if Parker has always been so like him or if it's the direct result of working so closely with the lad all these years. In any case, looking at the distraught young man on the floor ready to murder anything or anyone if it'll take away the pain his wife feels, Matt is overwhelmed with a new and sudden kinship for the boy who has always been like his own. Lips twitching, he nods once. "It's normal, son."

Parker looks relieved to hear it, slumping against the wall once more. Matt sighs, reaching into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulling out a cigar. Lighting it, he holds out a hand, offering it to the lad. Squinting up at him, Parker slowly takes the cigar. "Aren't we supposed to wait until Junior's actually born?"

He lights his own cigar and inhales greedily. "Wait if you like."

Parker shrugs, sticking his cigar in his mouth. "It's this or get smashed," he mumbles around it. "Thanks… Dad."

Startled, Matt lifts his head.

Parker grins. "Or Matt, if you prefer."

He glares, puffing out a mouthful of smoke.

"Right. Sorry." Parker shrugs, still smiling to himself. "Granddad it is then."

Overcome with the desire to snatch the cigar from the cheeky young man sprawled on the floor, Matt barely has time to move before he hears, "Alright, my love, push!"

Head snapping to the closed door where Nora is, along with Alex and a physician, Matt barely notices Parker doing the same. They stare in complete silence, smoking and fidgeting.

Nora cries out. "Mum, I can't. Please -"

"Shh, yes you can. You can do this. Just a few more and it's over, alright?" Matt closes his eyes and listens to his wife's voice, picturing her bent over their child, wiping the sweat from her brow and smiling that soft, encouraging smile of hers. "You're almost there. Just a little more and then you can rest and hold your little one, I promise."

Nora whimpers but she must nod because next comes the low murmur of the physician's voice, encouraging another push. Standing outside the door, Matt listens with his jaw clenched and his cigar held so tightly in his hand he nearly snaps it in two. The house is filled with Nora's groaning cries and little stifled sobs that tear at his heart. He can't get away from the noise. It surrounds him, like some godawful nightmare he can't escape, and then after one last wailing cry, the world falls silent.

On the floor beside him, Parker lifts his head, pale and hopeful.

Matt stares hard at the door, waiting, his whole frame taut with tension.

Finally, a tiny wail pierces the quiet.

Eyes falling shut, Matt sags against the wall and sticks his cigar back in his mouth.

Parker laughs in relief, tears in his eyes. "Congratulations, Granddad."

Too emotionally wrung out to hit him and too happy to scowl, Matt settles for a soft huff of laughter. The great and terrible Lord Smith, terror of scoundrels, waifs, and formerly wealthy gentleman everywhere, is now someone's granddad. He wonders idly what happened to the young man who would have scoffed at the mere thought and then realizes he'd lost that part of himself the first time Nora called him Papa.

Jumping up, Parker leaps for the door just as it opens and nearly barrels over the physician walking out, blood on his clothes and hands. Taking the startled old man by the collar of his shirt, Parker asks urgently, "She's alright?"

The old man nods, wide-eyed. "Of course," he stutters out. "Mother and child are just fine. You can go in -"

Parker releases him in an instant, fleeing past the old man and into the room, already calling out for his wife. The old physician breathes a sigh of relief until he spots Matt lurking. He flinches back, looking more nervous than before, as Matt looms over him.

"You're certain she's fine?" Matt frowns down at him. "You checked? She hasn't lost too much blood or torn anything? She's very small -"

"Women are made to carry babies, Lord Smith." The physician almost smiles at him but stops instantly when Matt scowls. "Your daughter did very well and you have a healthy new grandchild."

Determined to see for himself, Matt walks past the physician and into the room where his daughter is without another word. Parker sits on the edge of the bed beside Nora, cradling his child and staring down at the little face in awe. Nora smiles tiredly beside him, one hand on her husband's knee and the other caressing the top of her baby's scalp.

The drapes in the room have been parted to let in the early morning light and it shows just how pale and tired Nora is, her face lined with exhaustion. Matt feels his stomach twist at the sight and he turns, looking for Alex. She hovers over Nora and Parker but her eyes are on him, her smile

soft. Unmoving in the middle of the room, Matt stares back at her, blinking hard.

She goes to him instantly and when he opens his arms, she steps into them, burying her face against his chest. He holds her tightly to him, dropping his face into her hair. "She's alright?"

Alex nods, small hands smoothing gently over his back. "She's perfect." Pulling back to beam up at him, she cups his face in her hands and laughs. "And so is our grandson."

His heart leaps and he can't help the smile that Alex instantly covers with her mouth, kissing him thoroughly. He clings to her, fingers gripping the fabric of her dress until his knuckles ache. "A boy?" He asks when they finally part. "Really?"

"A beautiful, healthy boy." Alex grins widely. Her rumpled hair spills down her back in a tangled braid, her eyes are tired and her face is still pale with worry but Matt has never seen her look quite as radiant as she does right now, basking in the knowledge of their first grandchild. "I love you, you know."

He nods, pressing his forehead to hers. "More than I deserve."

She shakes her head, still smiling so brightly he feels a corresponding twitch in his own mouth that threatens to overtake his whole face. "Thank you," she whispers. "For giving me this."

"What?"

"Our wonderful, strange little family."

He huffs quietly, tucking a wayward blonde curl behind her ear. "I think you've got that backwards, pet. It was you who gave me everything."

"Why don't you call it even and get over here?"

They both turn to find Nora watching them from her cushioned spot in bed, her smile all at once exasperated and affectionate. Parker leans in and kisses her forehead, still cradling his son and grinning like a fool. Nora leans into her husband, watching her mother and father tiredly. "Would you like to hold him, Papa?"

Matt hesitates and Alex sighs, taking his hand and pulling him with her toward the bed. "He's a newborn, darling, but not glass. Come along." He lurks behind her, watching his wife lift the child from Parker's arms with a soft coo, swaying gently as she turns and faces him, holding out the little lad for him to take. "You won't break him, I promise."

Slowly, he holds out his arms and Alex shifts the baby to him, guiding his hand to cradle the tiny, fragile head in his palm. Matt drops his gaze to the little face blinking up at him and feels his breath catch, caught in that groggy, sleepy-eyed stare. This newborn looks much like any other, none of the features quite defined enough just yet to make him particularly handsome or resembling his mother or father. Still, this newborn is special. This one is the product of the two people he has loved best in this world besides his wife. This is another person to love and to protect, another person added to the patchwork family he has created for himself from nothing – the little orphan boy who finally found a place in the world. This newborn looks much like any other but this one is his grandson.

He peers down at the little face, a lump forming in his throat.

At his side, Alex curls a hand around his bicep, humming softly.

He clears his throat, lifting his head. "Have a name for the lad yet?"

Cuddled into Parker's side and allowing him to comb his fingers through her long, dark hair, Nora nods. "We decided to call him Nicholas."

He nods silently in approval. It's a good name – a good strong name for a strong little lad.

Watching him with soft eyes, Nora nudges Parker, who looks up with a grin. "Nicholas Matthew, actually."

Eyes snapping up to them, Matt stares in stunned silence, the lump in his throat threatening to overwhelm him entirely. At his side, Alex laughs softly, kissing his cheek. "That's quite a name to live up to."

"He can handle it." Nora smiles. "He's a Smith."

Chapter End Notes

Hi guys! So this was the last chapter of Persephone fic! I'm really sad about that but I'm more sad that I feel like I need to delete my Mattex fics. If you aren't already aware, Alex Kingston got an Instagram and has since been directed by a few idiots to read RPF. I doubt she does but the fact that people would even mention it is crossing a line, especially since her daughter is on Instagram as well and can read all of those comments. Anyway, I'm giving everyone the weekend to download what they'd like to keep and after that, my Mattex fics will be deleted. That being said, here's the last chapter! I would still love to read your comments though, guys. I'm trying to save the ones that were particularly special to me:) I've appreciated all of your comments and all of your kudos and messages over the course of my foray into Mattex fic. You've all been so lovely and I'm going to miss it so much!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	3. Chapter 3

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/1116081.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith, Karen Gillan, Arthur Darvill

Additional Tags:

trigger warning: domestic violence

Stats:

Published: 2014-01-02 Completed: 2014-02-07 Chapters: 6/6 Words:

33234

 **command all the beasts to carry you when you're tired**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

Standing on his tiptoes in the back of the crowd and hoping he doesn't get caught and dragged out, Matt can't make out the particulars of her face but her hair – golden and gleaming around her head – calls to him like a siren song. He watches her strut around the arena with a wide smile, her sequined costume catching the light and glittering brightly. Now that, he thinks, is one choice bit of calico. 1920s Circus AU.

Notes

A late anniversary fic for Charina. Circus AU, set 1920s America. Story title from Ivory Road by King Charles and chapter title from Being for the Benefit of Mr. Kite by the Beatles.

a splendid time is guaranteed for all

It's always the same whenever he visits home – what are you doing with your life, we're paying all that money for your education and you're squandering it, when are you going to choose a major – and each time, he finds it increasingly difficult not to snap that he never asked for them to send him to university. In fact, he hadn't wanted to go for precisely the reason his parents love to point out. He has no idea what to do with his life. He envies his classmates, all of them working toward a goal – doctors and writers and teachers. He wishes he knew what it felt like to have a purpose.

Hands shoved into his pockets and eyes on the ground, Matt walks aimlessly through town as expertly as he has walked aimlessly through his life thus far, without any particular destination in mind. He only knows that he cannot turn back and go home yet – not when he's still angry and frustrated. The town seems to be bustling with activity today, a strange thrum of excitement in the air, but he doesn't understand why until he has walked so far that he reaches the train tracks skirting along the outer edges of town.

Finally glancing up, Matt stares at the colorful cars sitting on the tracks, the shining paint along the sides telling him the Hartnell Brothers Circus is in town. People are gathered around the cars, unloading carts and cages, dragging them off into the distance where tents are being set up. He watches in silence for a while, observing the practiced way everyone goes about their tasks, the smiles on their faces even when someone in charge curses at them to pick up the pace. The smell of hay and animals and whiskey lingers in the air and for reasons he'll never be able to understand for as long as he lives, Matt takes another step forward.

In the distance, he can hear the roar of a lion and a little thrill shoots through him, tingling at his fingers and toes. A reluctant grin tugs at his mouth and he bounces a little in place, intrigued. Glancing around and noting all the people milling about, he decides no one will pay him any mind so long as he acts like he belongs. With a straight back and his chin lifted like a man who knows where he's going, he winds his way through people and around carts, making his way toward the more open area away from the trains where the tents are being set up.

Rather than the chaotic bustle nearer the trains, the activity here is much more focused. The center poles for the Big Top have already been erected, towering high above everyone, but several people stand around the outside of the tent, adjusting the tarpaulin as others pull and tug at ropes to get the rest of it off the ground. With a nod at anyone who happens to look in his direction, Matt walks past them, far more interested in following the sound of that agitated lion.

The sound of restless wild animals finally leads him to the menagerie tents, already set up and housing the wildlife. Matt peers around tent flaps and his eyes widen in turn at each new sight. Never in his life has he seen so many wild animals in one place before – and that includes his mother's family reunions. The monkeys grin at him, leaping around their cages and swinging from the bars gleefully, the giraffe chews on some sort of treat and blinks at him disinterestedly, the

camels take turns spitting as if competing in some silent contest, but it's the last tent that captures and holds his attention – the lions. They seem to be in a very bad temper, the lone male prowling the cage with a rumbling growl.

Gasping quietly, he stumbles inside and into the middle of the tent, gazing at them in wonder. "My god," he whispers, and laughs, wondering what he would have done if someone had told him when he woke this morning that he'd be standing in front a lion in a matter of hours. He walks cautiously toward the cage, hands held out in a supplicated gesture in front of him. He stops just shy of swatting distance of those enormous paws, grinning like an idiot at the carnivores fully capable of ripping him to shreds. "Oh, you are beautiful."

The two females lounging on their sides bare their teeth at him but the male – absolutely huge, with a thick, shining mane – stands over them, snarling. His eyes aren't on Matt, however, and he follows the lion's gaze to the bucket just off to the side of the cage, filled with raw, stinking meat. It looks as if someone had planned to feed them but had been called away to do something else.

"Ah," he mutters, glancing back at the lion in amusement. "Hungry then?"

The lion growls, tail twitching angrily.

He steps toward the bucket, wrinkling his nose at the godawful stench. Lifting it, he carries it with him back to the cage and ignores the increasingly frenzied noises coming from the lions within it as he tries to figure out how exactly to feed them without getting his hand bitten off. Someone feeds them every day so clearly there must be some sort of trick to this…

It takes him only another moment to locate the small, square part of the cage that lifts just enough to slide the bucket through before slamming shut again. Matt lifts the heavy bucket into his arms, swallows nervously and says to the male watching him curiously, "Just don't bite the hand that feeds you, eh?"

Not wanting to startle them, Matt moves slowly, lifting the latch and sliding the bucket inside cautiously, jerking his hand back and slamming the door shut just before all three lions pounce, knocking over the bucket and sending the meat spilling out everywhere. Light-headed and shaking, Matt leans against the opposite, empty cage with an exhilarated grin, his knees weak. "You're welcome," he laughs.

From the other side of the tent, a slow clap begins. Jerking in surprise, he straightens and whips his head around so quickly his neck cracks. A short, stout man with a pointed nose and dark hair beginning to gray at the temples stands at the entrance to the tent, dressed in a dark suit and an ornate cane hooked around his arm. Flummoxed, Matt shoves his hair from his eyes and sketches

a little bow.

"Impressive," the man says, surprising Matt with his thick Scottish brogue. "Do you have any idea how many men piss their pants when they have to feed the lions? And then there's you – sticking your hand in the cage and risking your fingers when you aren't even being paid."

Caught trespassing, Matt flushes. "Sorry, sir. I heard the animals and I couldn't resist – I'll just go." He scratches his cheek awkwardly and hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his waistcoat, mumbling as he walks, "Sorry, again."

"Did I ask you to leave?"

Matt freezes, glancing up with a furrowed brow at the man eyeing him. "Well, no but-"

The Scottish man begins to walk around the tent without looking at him, swinging his cane cheerily and slowly making his way to the lion cage. He stops right in front of it, raising an eyebrow when the male grumbles tetchily at him. "We lost our lion tamer in the last town," he begins lightly, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk at Matt's wide eyes. "Don't worry, he wasn't eaten or anything. Just retired – he was ninety-five."

Matt blinks, trying to imagine a ninety-five year old lion tamer.

"As you can imagine, he wasn't exactly drawing in the crowds anymore." The Scottish man chuckles to himself, tapping his walking stick teasingly against the bars of the lion cage and earning a grumpy roar and the swat of a paw for his trouble. "We're looking for a man to take his place. You interested?"

Gaping at him, Matt shakes his head. "What? No, I – I don't know the first thing about taming lions!"

"No one does until they have a bit of practice." The man huffs, turning his back on the lions to fix his calculating gaze on Matt. "They're already trained – they've been working with the same man since birth. They're domesticated pussycats, honestly!"

Matt eyes him dubiously.

The man sighs. "It's not about getting them to obey you – it's about earning their trust. And you're well on your way, feeding them when they're hungry. Have you ever worked with horses? It's a bit like that. Only there's a possibility you'll be eaten."

"I don't – who are you?"

"Steven Moffat – owner of the most spectacular show on earth." He grins. "But most people call me Uncle Moff."

"Well, Uncle Moff -"

"What do you do, kid?"

"What?"

"Your job. What is it?"

"I – I don't have one. I'm in university. Harvard."

"Studying?"

Matt ducks his head, his fringe falling into his eyes as he mumbles, "I don't know yet."

Uncle Moff beams. "Well, you're in no hurry to get back, are you?"

Thinking of his parents' disappointment and the university full of motivated people well on their way to careers perfect for them, Matt shakes his head. "No, I suppose not."

"Then stay until I find someone full time – just for a few shows. I'll even buy you a train ticket back home when I've hired someone else."

Matt chokes out an incredulous laugh. "You're asking me to run away with the circus?"

"Why not? What have you got to lose?"

"Limbs!" Matt flails his arms to make his point. "Lots of important limbs!"

Uncle Moff holds up his walking stick with a flourish and winks. "That's what they make these for."

He makes the mistake of sticking around to watch the show that night, and though he doesn't have a ticket to get into the Big Top, he slips just inside, lurking behind the crowds and just managing to see over the tops of their heads. He watches dancing girls and monkeys playing instruments to the instructions of a conductor, he watches a blonde girl lead her beautiful horses around the arena like a parade, he gazes up with wide eyes as a tall ginger girl and a thin, scruffy man leap through the air and swing from bars with practiced ease.

And then he sees her.

Standing on his tiptoes in the back of the crowd and hoping he doesn't get caught and dragged out, Matt can't make out the particulars of her face but her hair – golden and gleaming around her head – calls to him like a siren song. He watches her strut around the arena with a wide smile, her sequined costume catching the light and glittering brightly. Now that, he thinks, is one choice bit of calico. She stands against a target backdrop with a flourish, an apple balanced on top of her head and he doesn't understand what's happening until an arrow pierces the fruit and she steps out from under it, waving at the roaring crowd.

He watches with his heart in his throat as the woman laughs and curtsies just before the person who had shot the arrow – a tall, blond man – strides up behind her and catches her around the waist. Smiling at the crowd, he hugs the woman to his side for a brief moment but Matt doesn't miss the way he subtly shoves the woman behind him, clearly desiring the spotlight for himself. Chastened, the woman doesn't attempt to step forward again, hands laced together in front of her as the applause begins to die down.

Matt watches her until they disappear behind a curtain, the man dragging the woman behind him by the hand. He keeps hoping she'll look up just once more and allow him one last glimpse of her but she doesn't glance at the crowd again, eyes on the ground and the arrow-shattered apple

clutched in her hand.

When the circus pulls out of town that night, Matt goes with it.

Visions dancing in his head of the golden haired goddess and his own grand delusions of taking a bow between two magnificent lions, he finds himself sitting in a train car that smells vaguely of mildew. Curled up in the corner on a bed consisting of a pile of straw and a blanket, he watches the others he shares a car with talk and laugh and pass a bottle of liquor around, wondering if he should jump off the train and walk back home. What has he done? His parents must have found the note he left by now and realized his suitcase is gone, and will he even be back in time to start the next semester of school? What if –

"Uh oh, I know that look. Not going to upchuck, are you?"

Startled, Matt glances and finds himself on the receiving end of a gangly redheaded girl's wary stare. He recognizes her instantly as the trapeze performer he'd seen earlier that night. "Erm, sorry?"

She waves the bottle of hooch in her hand in his direction. "You have that oh god what have I done I've thrown away my life for a fleabag circus sort of look on your face. I remember it well." She arches an eyebrow. "If you pull a Daniel Boone and I've got to smell whatever you ate for dinner until we reach the next stop, I will throw you off this train myself."

Speechless, he shakes his head numbly. "I'm not going to be sick."

"Good." She smiles brightly. "Want some booze then?"

He nods hesitantly. If nothing else, it will keep him from panicking.

The girl nudges the man sitting next to her, a scruffy looking bloke with kind eyes and a roman nose. With a sigh, he takes the bottle from her and corks it before tossing it at Matt. It lands on his lap and he nods once in thanks, uncorking the bottle and sipping cautiously. "Thanks."

"So you're the new lion tamer."

"Apparently." Matt coughs at the burn of booze sliding down his throat, his eyes watering. "At least until your boss finds someone else more experienced."

"Have you ever worked with lions before?" The man arches an eyebrow, smirking.

Matt flushes and scrubs at the back of his neck. "Not really, no. But I've worked with horses and he says it's not that different -"

The man snorts, shaking his head and glancing at the redhead. "Uncle Moff has actually lost his mind. I mean, I know I've said it before but this time, I really mean it. We're being led around the countryside by a fucking madman."

The girl rolls her eyes and elbows him sharply. "Shut up, Darvill." She turns to Matt with a friendly grin. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Uncle Moff has a way of finding the talented ones." Crawling across the train car in his direction, fingers wrapped around her companion's dirt-smeared button down to drag him with her, she holds out a hand when she reaches him. "I'm Karen but call me Kaz." She jerks a thumb behind her. "And this idiot is Arthur."

Matt shakes her hand, grinning when Arthur uses the opportunity to steal back the moonshine. "You're trapeze performers, right?"

Kaz lifts her chin and sniffs, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Trapeze artists, thank you. We're the best."

"Kaz, we're doing ballet in mid-air -"

"And we're phenomenal at it, stupid face." She sticks out her tongue and Arthur shakes his head, flopping down next to Matt and handing him the bottle again. "Anyway, we'll show you around when we stop, introduce you to people. Try to make sure you don't get eaten."

Matt grimaces. "Uncle Moff said they weren't so bad."

"Oh no, not the lions." Arthur pats his arm. "She means the people."

Paling, Matt wonders if maybe he might throw up after all.

They stop in New Haven but don't bothering unloading since it's the middle of the night. Instead, the doors to all the train cars are thrown open and everyone – workers and performers alike – ventures out to drink and converse. Unsure and out of place around so many strangers – especially after Kaz's warning – Matt opts for remaining on the train, legs hanging over the sides as he watches everyone else. Kaz leaves him to mingle but Arthur sticks with him, the two of them passing the bottle of moonshine between them in companionable silence as Matt's eyes slowly adjust to the dark patch of countryside they're in.

Since he won't come to them, Kaz drags people over to meet him instead and he shakes hands with a hulking bloke with tattoos inked all over his body, a fire-eater, a sword -swallower, a gaggle of coquettish dancing girls, a magician, and a few other animal trainers. They all have the same air of otherworldliness about them that fascinates him, and he wonders if it's some sort of requirement before joining the circus – Must Look Strange and Fantastical – and if it is, what is he doing here? Unless ears too big for his head counts as Strange and Fantastical.

Eventually, he realizes there are a few people hanging back from the open train car, lingering behind the crowd in a small group instead. His gaze is drawn almost instantly to a flicker in the isolated group and he squints until he realizes he's looking at a woman – the same woman who had caught his eyes and made it impossible to walk away.

She throws her head back and laughs at something a man still wearing smeared clown makeup says to her. She turns briefly to bestow a small smile on another man who steps up behind her, a possessive arm around her waist. Matt knows him instantly as the one who had shot an arrow at her head. It's difficult to make out the woman's face in the dark so he focuses on what had initially caught his eye, hours ago in the middle of the arena – her hair. Golden, wild spirals like rays of the sun in the middle of the night. She laughs again, an enchanting giggle that tickles his ears, and tosses her curls over her shoulder.

Matt blinks hard, forcing his gaze away, but like an afterimage, the flash of gold stays behind his eyelids long after he retires to bed.

The lions – Tutankhamen, Pachet, and Mekhit – are all bark, or roar in this case, and no bite. As Uncle Moff had promised, the lions are indeed little more than house cats, far too old and used to following orders to be of any real threat. The only time they seem truly feral is when they're hungry.

After spending the morning helping set up for the show that night, Matt spends the rest of the day

gaining the affection and trust of his animal companions, keeping them well fed and cooing at them until they're putty in his hands. His method is a slow but effective one. He begins by sitting outside the cage and interacting with them through the bars, his hope growing every time he reaches through to touch them and they only blink at him. After that, it's only a matter of slowly inching inside the cage along with them – his head, a hand, an arm, another hand and arm, his torso.

By nightfall, Matt sits in the cage with them, his heart pounding wildly and pumping adrenaline through his body but the three lions make no move to harm him. He works through dinnertime, too eager to earn their trust to bother with joining everyone else in the meal tent. The lions are astonishingly lazy but with treats, Matt gets them to respond to the commands Uncle Moff had hastily jotted on a slip of paper for him.

The old man who had worked with them previously had trained them well – they sit, shake, and stand on their hind legs at a word from him and the rush of having the rulers of the jungle – wild beasts who could easily rip him to pieces if they wished – obey his every command is thrilling.

They don't know many exciting tricks, unfortunately, and Matt resolves to work on that. They must get bored doing the same things all the time – everyone needs a bit of mental stimulation, even elderly circus lions.

As the evening wears on, Tutankhamen grows weary and tetchy, swiping a paw that Matt barely manages to dodge in time. With a yelp of alarm, he rolls over on his side, gasping for air and frantically patting a grateful hand over his unmarred face, laughing giddily. Not horribly disfigured

– that's good.

Tutankhamen eyes him with boredom and a little bit of stubbornness, clearly trying to convey that he will not be listening to any more commands tonight and if he must use violence to get his way, he will. Pachet and Mekhit stand on either side of him, presenting a terrifying united front. Matt sighs, flops onto his back and digs a handful of treats from his pocket, tossing them in their general direction. "Fine, go on then."

They pounce on the food as he climbs to his feet, and he hears the rustle of tent flaps behind him moments before he hears Uncle Moff. "Am I paying you to lounge about on the ground and feed them?"

Turning, Matt frowns at him. "Rewards are positive encouragement. I've been working with them all day."

With a jovial grin, Uncle Moff prods at a treat still lying on the ground with his walking stick, yanking it back when Tutankhamen lunges for the food. "Does that mean they'll be ready for the show?"

"In time, of course." Matt shrugs. "We're still getting to know each other."

"Well, acquaint yourselves faster." Uncle Moff taps his walking stick pointedly, brown eyes boring into his. "I need them show ready by tomorrow night."

"What?" Matt gapes at him, shaking his head violently. "Not possible. I've had a day with them! I need more time -"

Uncle Moff huffs impatiently. "I run a circus, Mr. Smith. A very popular circus – and people expect to see lions. They are paying to see lions, showing up every night and wondering if my lion tamer will be eaten or not but either way, it's bound to be a hell of a show." Swinging his walking stick over his shoulder and turning on his heel, he offers one last parting remark. "I don't care if all you do is lead them into the arena and let them chase you while you scream like a little girl – just make sure at least the male is in the show tomorrow night."

He doesn't wait for a reply, disappearing through the tent flap, but Matt offers a mocking salute anyway, scowling after him. "Right," he mutters. "No problem."

Tutankhamen, finished with his treat, licks languorously at his paws and eyes Matt with a look of pity. Pachet and Mekhit continue to ignore him – as they usually do unless he's holding a treat. Running his fingers through floppy hair, Matt breathes out a quiet, frustrated breath and wonders if Arthur and Kaz have any whiskey left.

Hoping to locate them and find out, he orders the lions back into their cage, watching with a small smile as they file inside one by one and flop down, clearly worn out. "Good kitties," he murmurs in amusement, and shuts the door behind them.

He walks out of the menagerie tent slowly, hands in his trouser pockets and steps light, in a good mood despite Uncle Moff's little visit. Already, working in the circus has given him a new outlook on life. Any day he doesn't get eaten by a wild animal is a good day. With a smile on his face and the hope for alcohol in his heart, he glances up and feels his world slow to a crawl. Across the field and standing outside another tent is the same woman who had captured his attention twice last night. He can't make out her features from so far off but he recognizes the hair instantly, gleaming like a beacon. Hands clasped behind her back as she bounces on the balls of her feet, she looks like she's waiting for something.

He plans to move on and search out Arthur and Kaz – really, he does – but he stays rooted to the spot, staring at her. As if sensing his gaze, she looks up from studying the ground and their eyes

meet. Hers widen in surprise and he finds himself wishing he could see what color they are. Mechanically, he raises a hand in greeting.

She looks away again quickly, curls falling into her eyes as she ducks her head. Only moments later, she peeks through the curtain of her hair and he wonders if her cheeks flush red when she sees him still gaping at her, frozen in place by some unnamed spell.

Just as he begins to contemplate an attempt to move in her direction, the tent flap behind her flies open with an angry jerk of a hand and the same tall, slender man with blond hair slips out. He settles a hand on the woman's back and she jumps, tearing her eyes away from Matt and looking up at the man, biting her lip almost guiltily.

Winding an arm around her waist, the man murmurs something in her ear and the woman nods slowly, not daring to look back in Matt's direction. The man glances up and sees Matt staring at them but Matt makes no move to look away. He watches with inexplicable sadness as, with an arrogant lift of his chin, the man leads the woman away. Eyes fastened on the back of her head, Matt stands in silence and stares until the gleam of golden hair disappears, swallowed up by the dark.

"What are you still doing in here?"

He glances up from his spot in the menagerie tent, right in the middle of three lazing lions, to find Kaz standing as far away as possible, hands on her hips and foot tapping. "Am I supposed to be somewhere else?"

"You've been in here for hours!" She sighs, beckoning him with an impatient hand. "The show is in two hours and you don't even have a costume!"

"A costume?" He frowns. "Can't I just wear what I have -"

Kaz holds up a hand, mouth agape in outrage. "Don't even finish that sentence, Smith. Haven't you ever heard of showmanship?" She snaps her fingers. "Now put up your pets and haul ass."

On the floor, Tut rumbles threateningly at her.

Kaz pales but sticks out her tongue anyway. "Darvill and I are going to sneak you into the costume tent and get you some spiffy rags."

With a sigh, Matt climbs slowly to his feet and orders the animals back into their cage, hoping a little nap will prepare them for the show tonight. He'd spent the afternoon with them, offering treats and praise every time they obeyed an order or performed a trick. He got them to sit and stand and roar on command, and after a while it had begun to feel a bit like training particularly vicious dogs. There hadn't been time to teach them anything new – he doesn't even know if he can – but he figures the crowds just want to see the lions more than anything. Or at least, he hopes.

Locking the cage, he dusts off his hands and huffs to blow the fringe out of his eyes. "Could I wear a hat?"

Kaz's smile grows. "Now you're on the trolley."

The costume tent turns out to be the tent of the dancing girls where a trunk of mismatched clothes just happen to be kept. Fending off half-dressed women who like to run their fingers through his hair and giggle while he blushes, Matt manages to find something suitable for a lion tamer and he stands in front of the mirror twenty minutes before his act begins, nervously adjusting the lapels of his red tailcoat. Threaded with gold stitching, it had caught his eye instantly. It goes well with the black bowtie and top hat and though he'd protested when Kaz had cornered him with a black eye pencil, he has to admit it has a rather striking effect.

Ignoring the hustle and bustle of frantic activity in the tent as everyone else tries to prepare around him, he leans closer to the mirror to examine Kaz's work and make sure it hasn't smudged. From behind him, he hears a derisive, "Nice bowtie, Smith."

"Love the hat."

The magician and the fire-eater he'd met the other night on the train walk away giggling, their heads bent together, and Matt scowls after them. Arthur had warned him the teasing would be inevitable, as it always is when a new performer joins their group, but doubt creeps in and he turns back to the mirror worriedly. Perhaps it's a bit much?

"Don't listen to them." He glances up in the mirror at the sound of a soft, purring voice behind him and his breath catches in his throat. It's her – the woman with the captivating golden hair he keeps glimpsing from afar. Her hair is even more magnificent up close and so is the rest of her.

Blonde, bouncing spirals frame a lovely face – green eyes, a strong nose, and a mischievous grin. Dressed in a sequined number that leaves little to the imagination, she leans against the vanity opposite his, unintentionally putting distracting curves on display. "I think you look dashing."

Matt swallows thickly, his fingers fiddling with his bowtie in uncertainty. "Really?"

Her full lips curve into a smirk and her eyes twinkle with merriment as she meets his gaze in the mirror. "Always love a man in a top hat."

"You have good taste," he preens, tipping his hat at her playfully.

She giggles, the same tinkling laughter he'd heard his first night on the train, and the sound of it washes over him like a tide of warm water. Before she can reply, the same blonde man who had lead her away last night steps into the tent, dressed in gray trousers, a white button down and a blue vest. Blue eyes, cold and piercing, ignore Matt entirely and focus on the woman instead, and Matt can't help but notice the way she wilts a little under that intense stare, like a flower deprived of sunlight. "We're on, if you're through here."

Flushing guiltily, the woman nods. "Yes, of course. I'm coming." Without another word, the man leaves again, taking their cheerful mood with him. The woman forces an anxious smile and says brightly, "That's my cue. Good luck tonight, new fella."

She turns on her heel and begins to walk away but he blurts out, "It's Matt, actually."

Pausing with her hand on the tent flap, she throws him a wink and a murmured, "Alex, darling."

She slips out of the tent, no doubt hurrying across the way to the Big Top where the roar and delight of the crowd can be heard. Matt stares after her for a long moment, flushed red all the way up to his ears and grinning like a sap. A hand clapping him roughly on the shoulder startles him back into the present and he jumps, turning to find Arthur watching him with pity. "What?"

"Don't what me, Smith. And don't even think about it."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Arthur snorts. "Do you know who she is?" When Matt stares at him blankly, he rubs his fingertips over his eyelids and heaves a sigh. "She's the target girl for the knife thrower – and his wife."

Matt shrugs him off with a frown even as his heart sinks at the knowledge she is legally tied to another. "She didn't seem particularly happy about either of those things."

"And that's none of your business." Arthur looks at him pointedly. "He could kill you from fifty paces away with a flick of his wrist and a butter knife. No dame is worth that, no matter what she looks like in sequins."

"Alright, fine. I'll stay away. She's just a dame, for god's sake." Matt waves him away and adjusts his top hat one last time. "Now, wish me luck?"

Arthur eyes him for a long moment, resignation in the set of his mouth, and finally grumbles, "Don't get eaten in front of the kids. Bad for business."

Matt huffs and stalks out, intending to walk to the menagerie tent and stand with his lions until the time comes to release the Tut – he figures one lion to control is more than enough for his first show. Instead, the moment he's outside, he finds himself drawn instantly to the Big Top, teeming with people and lit up from within. He glances behind him once to make sure Arthur isn't watching before he slinks toward it, sneaking inside to peer through the crowd at the middle of the arena, where Alex and her husband are the focus of attention.

Tied to a spinning wheel, arms and legs spread out, Alex has pasted on a winning smile for the crowd that doesn't waver once as her husband expertly throws knife after knife in her direction. Matt barely breathes, watching the blade arc through the air, hearing the dull thud as it embeds itself on the wheel, meters from Alex's arms and legs, her side, one even slices off a lock of hair. The crowd applauds each and every time the man doesn't stab her but Matt only has eyes for Alex, taking in the quiet fear visible in her eyes. He can see it clearly, even struggling to peer over heads and shoulders as he is. He's also the only one to see her tense every time her husband slings a knife toward her, the only one to notice her smile is not a sign of her enjoyment and trust but rather a mask to hide the terror that next time, the blade will miss its intended target. He doesn't breathe until the last knife has been thrown and the crowd whistles and claps.

The knife thrower bows to the crowd, selfishly accepting their praise with a blissful smile on his face, and doesn't move to untie Alex until the applause dies down. When her feet are safely on the ground, Alex turns to the crowd and holds out her arms, that same frozen smile on her face as she demonstrates that the sharp blades hadn't even nicked her. Like last time, her moment in the spotlight doesn't last long and her husband takes his place in front of her again, bowing once more before dragging Alex away.

They disappear through the exit and Matt sighs, shaking off the unease he feels whenever that man touches her – like watching a snake coil around something defenseless and precious. Rubbing his hands together and taking a deep breath, he slips out of the Big Top and to the menagerie tent, his stomach in knots. Tut sits already waiting for him, as if he knows what's coming, and Matt wraps his fingers around the bars, leaning his forehead against the cage with a quiet plea. "Please don't eat anyone."

Tut paws at his face, disinterested.

The show goes as he had hoped it would up until the very end – Tut sits and stands and roars when Matt asks him to. It's nothing amazing but the crowd is fairly pleased with the display and he actually starts to believe he'll get through the performance without having a heart attack when something unexpected happens.

Matt has always had a bad habit of gesturing with his hands and at the end of the act, he takes off his hat and sweeps out a hand before offering a bow. Sitting directly in front of him, Tut instantly rolls over to lie on his back, belly exposed and paws up. For a moment, Matt can only stare in stunned silence but the audience laughs in delighted surprise and there's only one thing left to do. With a grin, Matt drops to his knees beside the great beast and gives him a belly rub, saying loud enough for all to hear, "Good boy, Tut."

Tut – the little performer – actually purrs.

Matt beams and the roar of the crowd is deafening.

After the show, the performers gather around Uncle Moff in the now empty arena, laughing and talking and passing around the hooch. Still exhilarated and running on adrenaline, Matt shares a bottle with Kaz and Arthur, arms slung around their shoulders and a grin on his face.

"And finally," Uncle Moff holds aloft his bottle, half empty already. "A hearty welcome to our newest recruit – the fearless lion tamer Mr. Smith. You may be new, kid, but tonight you hit on all sixes. May you continue to bring in the crowds and keep all your fingers and toes."

"Hear hear!"

Matt laughs and they all drink. As Uncle Moff steps down from the crate he'd used as his makeshift soapbox, he finds himself surrounded by circus performers shaking his hand and ruffling his hair, all of them grinning at him. Apparently, he's proven himself. The dancing girls

kiss his cheeks and pet his hair, the fire-eater douses him with whiskey and eventually it all becomes a bit of a blur, strangers coming up to welcome him and offer a handshake or a playful shove.

But then a petite frame presses into his side and golden curls tickle his cheek as soft lips press against the corner of his mouth. He stops breathing altogether, the world around him snapping back into sharp focus. Alex pulls back with a small smile, her eyes bright. "Welcome to the family, Matt."

"Thank you," he manages hoarsely, and his arm snakes around her waist without thought. The celebrating crowd around them ensures no one pays them any mind. He takes the opportunity to study her lovely face, grinning. "I don't believe I've ever been so warmly received anywhere."

She laughs and the sound is even better up close, the white of her teeth gleaming in the dim light of the tent. "That's the circus for you, darling. Once you're in, you're in."

"You know, those lions are twenty years old…" A quiet, silken voice from behind them makes Alex freeze against him, her eyes widening and her cheeks draining of color. She slips from Matt's grasp instantly, avoiding eye contact. She holds herself stiffly and he turns to frown over his shoulder, where her husband approaches, watching them with narrowed eyes. "They've never seen a jungle in their lives – born in captivity, raised to obey."

Alex flinches as her husband reaches her, a hand wrapping tightly around her wrist. He presses his face into her hair and coos. She swallows thickly and Matt hears it even over the din of the carousing around them. "Ralph -"

"But animals are unpredictable," he continues, ignoring her as his eyes drift to Matt pointedly. "You never know when they might… snap."

Frowning, Matt forces his eyes from Ralph's possessive grip on Alex's wrist to look at the man himself. "Well, I like to believe my lions are a little like people in that regard – they only fight back when they're being abused."

Ralph narrows his eyes, his mouth a thin line. Eyes wide, Alex lifts her head and stares at him.

"And only an arsehole would hurt an innocent creature, right?" Matt inclines his head, smiling humorlessly. "So it seems I don't have anything to worry about. I wonder though, can you say the same?"

If possible, blue eyes turn colder than ever as Ralph grits his teeth but he offers no reply and when he turns on his heel to stalk through the crowded tent, he pulls Alex with him. She doesn't struggle, glancing once over her shoulder to look at Matt, still appearing stunned by the entire encounter. Matt stares after her until she and her husband disappear, his heart squeezing like a fist in his chest as he hopes she won't pay the price for his words.

and the dagger performs with a start

Chapter Summary

Stifling another bout of giggles, Alex smirks at him instead and the woman in front of him is a world away from the shadow he sees around her husband. This flirty, warm, smiling creature is nothing like her. The change can't be a coincidence.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Knife Thrower by Mirah.

In the meal tent the following morning, his oatmeal goes cold and congeals in the bowl as Matt ignores it in favor of staring across the tent where Alex sits tables away with her husband. She nibbles silently on a piece of toast and does not look at Ralph or really anywhere else at all. From where Matt sits, he can tell that she's tired, dark circles under her eyes and her bouncing hair lank around her shoulders but other than that, he sees nothing out of place – no new cuts or bruises anywhere visible.

Last night, he'd barely slept at all, lying awake in his train car with Kaz and Arthur, huddled under his blanket and worrying that his careless exchange of words with her husband had caused her harm. He's relieved to see no clears signs of abuse but if Ralph doesn't harm her, why does she always seem so afraid of him?

"Does he hurt her?"

Arthur glances up from his breakfast of eggs and coffee with far too much sugar, frowning in confusion. "Who?"

"Ralph, y'know – the knife thrower?" Matt looks pointedly in their direction until Arthur turns and glances over his shoulder at them, eating their breakfast and not speaking to each other. "Does he hurt her?"

"No way." Arthur shakes his head firmly, turning back to his own plate. "I mean, I'm not saying he's a stand up bloke who wouldn't harm a fly – anyone with eyes can see what he's capable of. He's got a violent streak – have to have to be a knife thrower, don't you? But we'd know if he was… those costumes she wears don't exactly hide much. He's charming as hell when he needs

to be. I can't even count the times Alex has packed up and left, and he practically got down on his hands and knees to get her back."

Frowning savagely, Matt pushes his oatmeal around his bowl with his spoon.

"You're a crap listener, you know."

"Hmm?"

"I said don't get involved." Arthur arches an eyebrow at him. "You said of course I won't. And here we are one day later and you're already carrying a torch for her."

He scowls. "I am not carrying a torch for her."

Arthur eyes him dubiously.

Matt sinks lower in his seat and drops his eyes. "I'm just worried about her. There are other ways to abuse someone besides physically."

"Did I hear someone say physical?" Carrying a plate piled high with food, Kaz sinks into the chair opposite Matt and next to Arthur, smirking. "Do tell."

"It's nothing."

Arthur snorts. "Smith's goofy for Alex."

Matt chokes, cheeks burning as he glares across the table but Kaz's whole face lights up. "Really?!"

"No ." Matt hisses, making a slicing motion with his hand. "I'm just… concerned, alright? Forget I said anything."

Kaz shrugs. "Then I guess you don't want to know that Ralph just left to go sharpen his knives like he does every morning after he eats and Alex is still sitting over there all by her lonesome?"

Matt's head shoots up quickly, eyes searching out Alex even as Kaz snorts at him, clearly amused. "Should I -"

She sighs. "Of course you should."

Arthur glances between them, already frowning in disapproval. "She's a married woman, Kaz."

"So?" Kaz shrugs lightly. "He's just going to talk to her – not make violent love to her on top of the table. Lighten up, Darvill." She winks at Matt, who blushes instantly. "And she's brilliant, okay? So be a good friend to her."

Beaming, Matt resists the urge to reach across the table and ruffle her red hair. Pushing his plate of untouched food away, he rises to his feet and leaves his friends behind to cross the tent to Alex. She doesn't look up from her plate, where she methodically crumbles her toast, tearing it into little pieces, and he doesn't wait for an invitation, dropping into the seat across from her that her husband had vacated.

She glances up, startled, and her eyes widen when they meet his. "Hello."

He grins, undeterred by her hesitance. "Hello. How are you?"

She eyes him and answers with a slow, "Fine."

"Good. That's good." He laces his hands together on top of the table and stares down at them, hair flopping into his eyes as he studiously avoids her gaze. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay

– erm, after last night. I said – and I thought your husband might -" He swallows, peering through his fringe to find her watching him curiously. "So you're good?"

Slowly, her full lips curve into a cautious smile at his expense and she nods. "I'm good, darling."

Grinning again, he scratches his cheek and mumbles, "Good."

"So you've said." She laughs quietly, dropping her mangled toast onto her plate and brushing the crumbs from her hands onto her skirt. "Listen, I'm sorry about Ralph last night. He can be a little… abrasive at times."

"Really?" He quirks an eyebrow at her. "I hadn't noticed – seems like a lovely fella to me. Very personable."

She bites her lip, still smiling. "You were really wonderful, though. However did you manage to get Tutankhamen to roll over like that?"

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans toward the middle of the table and beckons her closer. Clearly intrigued, Alex bends her head toward his until her nose brushes his cheek. He suppresses a shiver and turns to breathe into her ear. "I have absolutely no idea."

Alex giggles, drawing back to sink into her seat once more. Cheeks pink and smile wide, she shakes her head, curls spilling over her shoulders. "If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. I know some performers never reveal their secrets."

"I'm serious!" He laughs but holds up his hands solemnly. "I don't actually know what the hell I'm doing. I'm just filling in until Uncle Moff finds someone qualified. Tut probably rolled over because he was tired and he felt like it, to be honest."

Stifling another bout of giggles, Alex smirks at him instead and the woman in front of him is a world away from the shadow he sees around her husband. This flirty, warm, smiling creature is nothing like her. The change can't be a coincidence. "Ah, I see. You're an imposter."

"The biggest fraud to ever join your circus, madam." He grins. "And I'd be much obliged if you kept that between us."

"You would, would you?" Her smile turns dangerous and the purr of her next words sets him on edge. "What's in it for me, then?"

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly a little hot under the collar. "My undying gratitude?"

"Is that all?"

"Oh, so that's not good enough for you?" He huffs when she giggles, biting back a smile himself. "What about my friendship? I'm excessively charming company."

He doesn't miss the way her face lights up but she smothers it quickly, offering him a cheeky smile instead. "Are you sure you don't mean conceited company?"

He snorts. "Hell, not afraid to be direct are you?"

She shrugs, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "Got anything else?"

Elbows on the table, he hums thoughtfully, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "What if I told you by accepting my offer of friendship, you would also gain the benefit of having access to the menagerie tent whenever you wished? And by extension, the lion cage."

"What makes you think I want anywhere near that lion cage?"

He gestures to her curls. "You must have some sort of affinity with them. Same hair."

She stares at him in disbelief. "And I suppose that explains why you're talking to me? Do I bring out your desire to tame the beast?"

The suggestive tone of her voice does not go unnoticed and he flushes. "I don't think I could tame you if I tried. No man could."

Her smile fades at that and he mentally sticks his foot in his mouth as she mutters, "You'd be surprised."

"I misspoke," he says softly. "I meant to say no man should." Alex watches him for a long moment, clearly surprised, but he only blinks back at her, all his cards on the table. "So, exclusive rights to the king of the jungle in return for your silence regarding my ineptitude. What do you say?"

Her nose crinkles as she laughs and just watching her is enough to lighten his heart. "Alright, fine. We have a deal, Matt."

She extends a hand across the table and he takes it, his palm sliding against hers. He glances up and as their eyes lock, Matt feels his whole world shift. His mind whispers to him – a beginning, the purpose he's been looking for, fate – but he only smiles and squeezes her hand. "Friends, Alex."

When they reach the next town – Philadelphia – Matt drops a brief note in the mail for his parents, penned on the back of a faded circus postcard he'd found buried beneath the straw littering the train car floor where he sleeps. He lets them know where he is and that he's all right, but that paying tuition needn't be something they trouble themselves over anymore. Whatever he decides to do with his life, he's pretty sure it doesn't include being stuck inside a classroom all day. He promises he'll write again soon but doesn't bother trying to tell them when he'll be home. He doesn't even know that himself.

Feeling a little glum and homesick, he retreats to the menagerie tent to be on his own for a while. He lets Tut, Pac and Mek out of their cage in hopes that a little practice will distract him and for a while, it works. He gets them to stand on their hind legs, front paws in the air while he walks between them and inspects their form. When he taps his foot, they drop back down on all fours and he grins, pleased with himself.

To his right, he hears a slow, methodical clap and he glances up to find Alex standing just inside the tent. It's strange seeing her out of her flashy show garb, dressed instead in a white shirt and tan trousers tucked into tall riding boots. A colorful scarf wrapped around her head like a headband to pin her unruly curls from her face, she looks just as lovely as she had the other night in sequins. Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, Matt can only stare at her for a moment, barely blinking.

She fidgets, glancing at the ground shyly. "You said I could visit."

She makes it sound like a question and Matt feels his heart swell in his chest as he snaps his mouth shut and nods. "Yes, of course. I just -" He grins. "I didn't think you really would."

"Oh, well, I could go -"

Matt leaps to his feet as she takes a step back. "No, please." She stops, hand poised to pull back

the tent flap. He fidgets, ruffling his hair nervously. "At least let me introduce you to the lions."

He grins hopefully and Alex drops her hand, tension leaving her small frame even as she glances apprehensively over his shoulder. "Aren't they dangerous?"

"What, them?" He glances behind him, where all three lions sit placidly, watching Alex with obvious curiosity but either they realize she's no threat or they're just too lazy to get up. "I think their days of man-eating are behind them. They prefer popsicles and cookies now."

She laughs heartily, head tossed back and mouth open, and Matt grins at the sound, watching her inch slowly further into the tent. "So the most feared beasts of the jungle – the reason we draw so many crowds in every town – eat sweets?"

"Hey, who wouldn't do a few tricks for an oatmeal cookie?" He frowns at her playfully and Alex giggles. "It certainly works better than whatever the last fella was doing. They're as old as the hills but I've never seen them move as fast as they do when I wave a cookie in front of their noses." Alex takes another few cautious steps, almost at his side now but still watches the lions with trepidation. He holds out a hand to her, trying to smile reassuringly. "They won't hurt you, I promise."

Biting her lip, she reaches out and takes his hand, letting him draw her to his side. She grips his fingers tightly but her eyes are wide and delighted as she stares down at the lions at her feet, all three of them gazing up at her calmly. "I've never been so close before," she breathes. "They're beautiful."

Usually, anyone who gets this close besides Matt ends up on the receiving end of an impressive roar and the swipe of a paw but with Alex, they haven't even moved. They seem just as fascinated by her as she is with them. He's never seen them quite so docile.

"I think the feeling is mutual," he says, nudging her meaningfully. "They're enraptured by you."

Alex flushes, shaking her head. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not – look at them!" He gestures with the hand she isn't still clinging to. "They've never seen you before in their lives – they should be growling at you, trying to paw at your feet and slice you to ribbons!"

Her jaw drops. "You said their man-eating days were over!"

"They're lions, Alex. Their man-eating days are never over." He scoffs, grinning when she pales. "But I wouldn't have let them harm you. They'd have to eat me first." He watches her drop her gaze to the ground, biting her lip against a smile. "My point is they clearly like you. Now, what are your plans for the afternoon?"

She looks startled, blinking at him. "I – I don't have any until Ralph sends for me."

"Good." He drops her hand and strides across the room to pick up an empty water bucket. Turning it upside down, he places it a few feet from the lions and pats it, beckoning her closer. "Sit here and keep me company then."

"Oh I -" She shakes her head, fingers stroking her scarf self-consciously. "I don't want to distract you from your work. I'll just -"

"Alex, you can't leave now!" He puts his hands on his hips and eyes her sternly. "You're clearly my good luck charm. You have a very calming affect on my animals, which means they'll be easier to train, which means the show will be a success and Uncle Moff won't throw me out on my backside. So I must ask that for the greater good, you sit right here and let us all bask in your soothing presence."

She stares at him, lips parted in surprise.

"Come on." He wheedles, not above a little bribery. "I'll let you give them their treats."

She sits.

He claps his hands together once in triumph. "There we go; now you're sitting pretty." He empties his pockets of cookies and dumps them all into her waiting hands. "When I signal you, toss a few toward them but don't let them have any before I say so – they're shameful beggars."

Taking her newly appointed task seriously, Alex unties her headscarf and wraps the cookies in it, creating a makeshift sack. "Out of sight, out of mind." She hums, adorably pleased with her own resourcefulness. She crosses her legs, elbow on her knee and chin in hand to watch him work but Matt can only stare at her and all those curls suddenly tumbling around her face. She tugs at a

wayward spiral, watching him with concern. "What is it?"

"Sorry, nothing." He forces his gaze away, swallowing. "Ready to watch me bumble my way through another day of practice?"

"I'm sure it's not as bad as all that, darling." She watches eagerly, completely oblivious to the way his heart skips a beat every time she calls him that. "Go on, then."

He guides Tut, Pac and Mek through a few tricks – standing on their hind legs again, following him around the tent in a single line, rolling over on command. Alex laughs and claps, throwing them treats every time they obey. The animals have clearly already taken a shine to her, kneeling at her feet and licking their paws of cookie crumbs when Matt allows them a break.

Lounging on the floor in the midst of them, he breaks a spare cookie in half and shares it with Alex. Leaning his back against the warm of Tut's middle, he watches Alex tentatively reach out a hand and touch Mekhit's paw. When the lioness doesn't move, Alex relaxes; stroking her finger up and down the large paw with a smile on her face. "I'm glad you decided to take me up on my offer."

She glances up, still grinning. "Me too. I had no idea they were so… friendly."

"They usually aren't." He waggles his eyebrows. "And don't be shy, doll. You really came to see me, didn't you? It's all right; you don't have to use the lions as a cover. You can tell me – you were craving my company. Nothing to be ashamed of."

Scoffing as he grins lazily at her, Alex shakes her head. "Yes, I couldn't stop thinking about you, darling." She coos, sneakily giving Mek the last bite of her own cookie. "Ralph will be heartbroken when he finds out."

Wisely choosing not to comment, Matt coughs politely. "However did you manage to get away from your darling husband, anyway? Does he know you're all alone in a tent with the dashingly handsome lion tamer?"

"Really? Where is he?"

"Ouch." He smooshes his fringe over his eyes and pouts dramatically.

Mekhit starts licking Alex's fingers, foraging for any trace of cookie left over, but Alex barely pays her any mind, too busy smirking at him. "Ralph is in the middle of target practice. He probably hasn't even noticed I'm gone."

"But doesn't he need you for target practice? Not that I'm complaining, mind."

Shaking her head, Alex withdraws her fingers and wipes them on her trousers, patting Mek on the head like a dog. Matt tries not to feel jealous – it took Mek ages to let him that close without snarling. "He uses actual targets when he's just practicing – it's safer than using me all the time."

"How considerate of him," he mutters.

He hadn't really meant for her to hear but she does, mouth twisting thoughtfully as she looks at him, but before she can say a word, Tut climbs to his feet and Matt just catches himself before his back hits the ground, his prop suddenly gone. Leaning on his elbows now, he watches as Tut steps imperiously over the two lionesses at Alex's feet. He settles right between them and rests his giant head on her lap. She laughs in surprise, beaming down at the lion nuzzling into her leg with a snuffling noise more befitting of a kitten. "Well aren't you just a great big kitty cat," she coos, and scratches behind his ears.

Tut practically purrs.

Mouth open in outrage, Matt gapes at the sight. "Seriously, how are you doing that? They hate everyone but me!" She shrugs shyly but her smile is wide and her whole face glows with pleasure. In the short time he's known her, he's never seen Alex quite so happy. He harrumphs anyway, because his petulance seems to amuse her. "Must be the hair," he decides. "You probably look like a relative to them."

Alex gasps. "How rude you are, sir. Maybe they just like me."

Softening, Matt nods and reaches out a foot to prod hers playfully. "I can certainly sympathize."

Blushing, Alex drops her eyes back to Tut.

With the ice broken that first day, Alex starts dropping by the menagerie tent when he practices most days. She watches him train, keeps him company, pets the animals and hands out treats. She even helps him come up with a few new tricks to try out in the show. He sees her every day and sometimes more than once a day. Every morning, as soon as Ralph leaves the meal tent to sharpen his knives, Alex will pick up her plate of food and wander over to join him, Arthur and Kaz at their table. She walks with him after they eat to feed the lions and train, leaving him hours later to find Ralph and practice their act.

He doesn't see her again until dinner, when he sits down with Kaz and Arthur in the meal tent once more. He'll lift his eyes and see her across the room, sitting at a table with her husband. He always waves at her and Alex always glances timidly at Ralph before offering a smile in return. Most days, it's almost enough for Matt but on the days when it isn't, he always walks by their train car before bed in hopes that the door will still be open and he'll be able to glimpse her inside

– reading a book while Ralph sharpens his knives. It helps to see her once last time before he closes his eyes and on the nights when their train car door is shut, he walks by quickly and tries not to think about why.

As much as he hates to admit it, Arthur had been right that first day. He is most definitely carrying a torch for the knife thrower's wife. He relishes the time spent with her. Any time with him is time she isn't spending with Ralph. Matt barely sees the man but he can't forget his first impression of Alex's husband as cold and uncaring with an abusive streak. He keeps an eye on Alex, always searching for bruises but he never sees any – at least not any visible ones.

It all starts to change one morning, weeks after he joins the circus. They'd arrived in Charleston late last night, drinking and dancing to Bessie Smith until they were all too tired or too drunk to stay awake any longer. Matt wakes early with a mild headache, rolling over on his makeshift bed with a groan as he thinks of all the work to do before his day can even begin. All of the train cars need to be unloaded, the animals need to be fed and it'll be hours before breakfast is served.

His stomach growls unpleasantly and he sighs, opening his eyes in defeat. His groggy gaze is drawn instantly across the car, where Kaz sleeps, her long, pale arms wrapped tightly around a petite lump cuddled into a blanket. Matt frowns, squinting, and recognizes the hair peeking out from the nest – golden curlicues which refuse to be tamed by the likes of a woolen blanket.

"Alex?" He mutters sleepily, rubbing at his eyes. The blanket shifts as she moves, revealing Alex's lovely face slack with sleep and Matt feels his brow furrow in confusion. "What-"

"Shh. You'll wake her."

Startled, Matt wrenches his gaze from Alex to find Arthur standing on the other side of the car, a finger to his lips as he motions him out. Instantly, Matt pushes his blanket aside, scrubs a hand over his face and climbs to his feet. He glances worriedly at Alex one last time before he follows Arthur, hopping down from the car and landing outside on his feet. A few people are already unloading the train, others driving spikes into the ground to set up the tents. He rakes a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair and the minute they've walked far enough away, he snaps impatiently, "Well?"

"I just didn't want you to wake her." Arthur shrugs. "She had a difficult night."

"Why? What happened? Why is she in our car and not with Ralph?"

"Jesus, calm down." Arthur scrubs his fingers over his scruffy face and eyes him balefully. Conversation early in the morning, Matt had discovered very quickly, would never be Arthur's forte. "Ralph had too much to drink last night. He and Alex got into it and since she and Kaz are friends, Alex came to us so she'd have somewhere to stay while he slept it off."

Instantly sick to his stomach, Matt turns on his heel and starts walking in the other direction. Arthur stumbles after him.

"Whoa, wait, where are you going?"

"To see Alex," he bites out.

"No, you're not." Arthur quickly steps in front of him, wrapping his hands around Matt's forearms and stopping him in his tracks. Matt huffs and Arthur looks at him sternly, his stubbornness clear in the firm set of his jaw. "You're going to let her sleep in peace. If you want to talk to her later, I can't stop you."

Scowling, Matt shrugs him off with a curt nod.

Arthur relaxes, shoving him fondly back in the other direction and shaking his head. "Your life would be so much easier if you would let this thing go."

"It's not a thing – she's -" Matt sighs, glancing longingly over his shoulder where Alex sleeps in their train car. "It's too late."

"Yeah, I got that five minutes after you met her." Arthur sighs and slaps the back of his head, prompting Matt to turn and shove him hard, grinning all the while. "Come on, idiot. Let's get to it."

Keeping his mind on anything but Alex and what exactly had forced her to seek asylum in the middle of the night is nearly impossible but Matt makes a valiant attempt. He throws himself into helping with tent setup, assists with unloading the heavier equipment from the train cars, feeds his animals and finally collapses into a chair next to Arthur in the meal tent hours later.

They're just finishing their coffee in companionable silence when Kaz finally joins them. She settles into a seat across from them, elbowing one of the clowns out of her way with a grumpy huff. Dropping her plate on the table in front of her – dry toast for her no doubt tremendous hangover – she puts her head in her hands and groans.

Ignoring her theatrics, Matt glances over her shoulder and around the table, then hopefully at the long line still waiting for food. "Where's Alex?"

"Eating breakfast," Kaz mumbles at the table top, not bothering to lift her head.

It's on the tip of his tongue to ask where since she clearly isn't here when an idea occurs to him and with dread in the pit of his stomach, he turns and looks over his shoulder. At her usual table and seated across from her husband is Alex, looking tired but lovely. She nods absent-mindedly to whatever Ralph is saying, eating small spoonfuls of oatmeal and avoiding his gaze.

Heart clenching in his chest, Matt forces himself to turn his back on the sight. Kaz remains slumped in her seat but Arthur looks at him pityingly. "So that's it? He was being such a pill last night that she couldn't even sleep in the same train car with him but now everything's fine?"

Kaz shrugs, finally lifting her head to reach desperately for her coffee. "It usually is."

"Does this happen often then?" The idea horrifies him, as does Kaz and Arthur's blasé attitude about this marriage from hell. "Did he at least apologize?"

"I doubt it," Kaz snorts, then winces, clutching at her head.

"Then why -"

"Old boy, there's something you have to understand. For as long as I've known them, which is when Kaz and I joined the circus two years ago, Ralph and Alex have always fought. Always. Alex will leave, sometimes either to stay with Kaz or actually go as far as to pack her bags but she always goes back to him." Arthur fixes him with another of those steely-eyed gazes Matt is really growing to hate. "Now, I know you're hopelessly goofy for Alex but her life is none of your business. And I am not kidding when I say Ralph will bump you off. I'm honestly surprised he hasn't already – the way you moon over his wife is far from subtle."

"He's probably waiting for the lions to eat him instead," Kaz supplies helpfully. "No one wants to undergo an investigation by the heat."

Arthur tips his head in agreement. Matt stares glumly into his empty coffee cup and says nothing, waiting only a few more minutes before excusing himself. He doesn't want to wait for Ralph to leave today, nor is he in the mood to face Alex should she decide to join them for breakfast again. He hides away in the menagerie tent, taking another bucket of meat with him. He tosses scraps through the bars, mildly amused because they never show as much enthusiasm for meat as they do for oatmeal cookies. He watches them devour their meal, leaning against a tent post with his arms crossed over his chest, and tries his best not to think about Alex. As much as he hates to admit it, Arthur had been right. Alex is his friend but will never be anything more – she's a married woman and her life is none of his concern, no matter how much of a volatile bastard her husband is.

"Are you avoiding me?"

He nearly drops the meat bucket, whirling around so quickly he trips and stumbles back into the bars of the cage behind him. Tut grumbles at him discontentedly but Matt ignores him, all of his attention focused on Alex standing with her hands behind her back, watching him with a little smile. "Of course not," he says, and drops his eyes. "Why would I?"

"You tell me." She ventures a little further into the tent and the lions finally notice her, purring in greeting. She beams, waving at them. "I know you must have seen me sleeping in your car this morning -"

"I didn't want to wake you." He straightens away from the lion cage and turns his back on her.

"And at breakfast you didn't linger over your coffee, waiting for Ralph to leave so I could join you all." She sounds troubled and his heart softens a little just at the knowledge that she noticed and cared. "I don't believe you even looked at me."

"I did," he says before he can stop himself.

Alex says nothing but he senses her surprised gaze on him. "You did?"

He nods, swallowing. "You just didn't see."

He hears her light footsteps as she moves to join him, standing at his side in front of the cage but he doesn't dare turn to look at her yet. One glance at her face and he'll crumble. Curling her hands around the bars, she watches the animals eat in silence for a long moment. "You're angry with me," she finally observes. "Why?"

Matt shakes his head. "Not angry."

"What then? Because you're certainly behaving very oddly."

There's a little bit of hurt coloring the tone of her voice and he sighs, shoulders slumping. "I'm… confused."

"About what?"

He rakes his fingers through his hair and blurts out the truth, regretting the words even as they leave his mouth. "Why you stay with a man who doesn't make you happy."

Alex inhales sharply, turning her head to look at him with wide eyes and he finds the courage to meet her furious gaze. "How dare you -"

"Don't, Alex," he says softly. "I may be a cad to point it out but that doesn't make it any less true. You couldn't even stay in the same car with him last night – he shouldn't make you feel like you aren't safe, Alex. You're his wife – he should make you feel loved and protected -"

"He does," she interrupts insistently, eyes flashing.

Matt bites his lip, ducking his head to peer solemnly at her through his fringe. "Then why did you leave him in the middle of the night to sleep on the floor with Kaz? From what Kaz and Arthur were telling me, it certainly isn't the first time."

Alex stares at him in silence, bottom lip trembling.

He reaches out a hand to touch her arm and though she doesn't try to stop him, he can't quite bring himself to do it. He wants to wrap her in his embrace and keep her from any and all harm but she would never let him and he knows if he touches her now, there will be no going back. "Does he -" He stops and doesn't really want to know. He has to ask anyway. "Does he hurt you, Alex?"

She breaks eye contact and his heart clenches. "He's my husband. I love him."

"Do you?"

"Of course I do," she snaps, and he nods, knowing when to back off.

"Okay."

He turns back to the lions and finds them staring back at him, licking their lips impatiently for another scrap. He snorts softly and reaches for the bucket, pulling out another slab of meat and tossing it in. As they pounce on it, Alex asks in a soft voice, "Where else would I go?"

Matt turns his head and stares at her, lips parted in surprise. She blinks back at him, genuinely curious. Somehow, it had never occurred to him that all of those times Ralph had won her back, it hadn't been because Alex wanted to be with him but because she didn't have anywhere else to go. He wonders how frequently Ralph tells her as much, knowing if she truly believed she could, Alex would leave him in an instant.

Swallowing hard, he manages a thin smile. "Well, you've got me now, eh? I'll be here if you need me." He winks. "My pile of straw is much cushier than Kaz's anyway."

She giggles, flashing him a grateful smile, and suddenly she's Alex again. "Thank you, darling."

Pleased, he claps his hands together and grins at her. "Now, ready to play with a man-eating lion and his senior citizen dames?"

She laughs, bright eyed and altogether lovely. "Oh, you know just how to show a girl a good time."

"I do my best but that line never seems to work on anyone else."

He pouts and Alex winks at him. "They don't know what they're missing."

Unlatching the lock on the cage and swinging the door open with a flourish, Matt offers her an elaborate bow and another little piece of his heart.

take good care of yourself, you belong to me

Chapter Summary

Denying he's fallen in love with the unattainable target girl would be laughable at this point – he searches her out in crowds, mopes on days when she's too busy to visit the menagerie tent and lights up on the days when she can. He worries about her constantly and in spite of Arthur's warnings, he can't bring himself to care if Ralph notices him staring.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Button Up Your Overcoat by Ruth Etting. Also, if you're reading and enjoying, comments are sexy.

In a wealthy area like Atlanta, the circus tends to stay as long as people are willing to pay to get in and Hartnell Brothers keeps their tents up for a grand total of nearly two weeks. In that time, Matt trains the lions diligently and incorporates Pachet into the act with Tut. With both of them in the arena, listening to his commands in front of hundreds of people every night, he feels less like a fraud and more like a real lion tamer by the time they leave the town in their dust.

Their next stop is New Orleans and their first show is a huge success. Every tent is packed with people – the Big Top, the dancing girls tent, the menagerie, and the sideshow tent all full. He can't remember the last time they made so much money in one night and Uncle Moff can't seem to either, holding up his glass at the end of the night and toasting them with a wide grin on his usually harried face.

Arthur, the only one among them mad enough to save his earning to buy a gramophone, puts on a Ruth Etting record and they find themselves in the midst of another party. Somehow, even in the middle of a prohibition, the alcohol flows freely and Matt doesn't want to know how they come by it so easily. He drinks and dances and does everything he can to avoid looking in the crowd for Alex. He knows where she'll be – tucked under Ralph's arm and smiling. He's too happy right now to let those two and their twisted relationship ruin everything.

Unfortunately, luck isn't on his side tonight.

Halfway through the night, he finds himself sitting at a table surrounded by his friends, all of them laughing and boisterous with too much moonshine. Matt barely notices them, whiskey glass clutched in his hand as he stares at Alex dancing under the fairy lights with her husband. Ralph

leans into her heavily and Matt has no doubt that he's had too much to drink again. Alex holds him up as best as her petite frame can, her head on his shoulder and her eyes shut as they sway together to Louis Armstrong. She looks… exhausted and it's strange because he had seen Alex that afternoon. She'd been gorgeous and smiling and bubbling with easy laughter, the same as always. But now, with Ralph pressed against her, she looks tired – like the man saps away her spirit, sucking her dry of that innate sunlight she carries with her everywhere she goes.

He feels an uncomfortable, gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach as he watches Ralph stroke a hand up her back and into thick, bouncing curls. He drops his eyes, swallowing hard. Denying he's fallen in love with the unattainable target girl would be laughable at this point – he searches her out in crowds, mopes on days when she's too busy to visit the menagerie tent and lights up on the days when she can. He worries about her constantly and in spite of Arthur's warnings, he can't bring himself to care if Ralph notices him staring. Staring is all he can have and not even fear of Ralph and his knives could take his only luxury from him.

Downing the rest of his whiskey, Matt doesn't look up as the music fades to something a little more upbeat, uninterested in how Alex manages to drag her drunken husband from the makeshift dance floor. He occupies himself by nudging Kaz for another drink, grinning half-heartedly when she rolls her eyes and pours him a bit of moonshine from the bottle she's been drinking directly from.

"Cheers," he mumbles with a sigh, and takes a large gulp.

She eyes him in disapproval. "Easy. Can that body even hold its drink?"

"Like you can talk, you albino spider." He scowls at her and she snorts, opening her mouth to retort, but after a quick glance over his shoulder, her face softens and she snaps her mouth shut. He raises a suspicious eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing. Just don't want to kick you while you're down." She shrugs and squeezes his arm just as a shadow falls over him and he turns on instinct, his heart already clenching because he knows. He pastes on a bright smile anyway at the sight of Alex standing in front of him, Ralph lingering behind her like a dark phantom, clutching her hand for balance. Alex doesn't seem to mind, ignoring him in favor of swiping Matt's glass.

"You don't mind, do you?" She asks, and drinks before he can answer, giving the glass back with her lipstick print around the rim. She wipes at her mouth delicately and grins. "All that dancing makes a girl parched."

He shakes his head wordlessly, unable to help the small smile that curls his lips at the sight of her

– cheeks flushed and mischievous twinkle in her eyes. Despite his earlier mood, it's impossible not to feel light-hearted when Alex is near and looking at him like that. "Help yourself." He glances at the lipstick print on his glass pointedly and Alex has the good grace to blush. "Can I get you anything else, doll?"

"Oh hush." She takes the glass back and wipes away the print with the tulle skirt of her costume, smearing it a good deal more than she cleans it. "There, good as new."

He traces his fingertips over the rim of the glass and murmurs, "I beg to differ."

Alex bites her lip, smiling.

"You know what I find pathetic?"

They both start at the sound of Ralph's voice – Matt had honestly forgotten he was ever there but it's obvious now, with him looming behind Alex, his chin on her shoulder. She stiffens at his closeness, the light leaving her eyes and the smile dropping from her face. She casts her gaze to the ground instead, fidgeting hands clasped in front of her. It's quite disturbing to watch the transformation, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned her off.

"I mean, really pathetic?" Ralph's eyes, glittering with alcohol, land on Matt. "Watching a man hopelessly in love scramble after a woman so far beyond his reach." He turns his face and nuzzles into Alex's neck, either oblivious or indifferent to the way she leans away from him, her whole frame tense. "A woman who blatantly teases his affections. Such a naughty girl, Alex. One day, I shall kill you for it."

Matt's whole body jerks and he lurches forward, eyes wide and hands outstretched to wring the man's scrawny neck but Kaz grabs his jacket, yanking him back. "How dare you -"

"Matt, stop it." Alex watches him with wide, frightened eyes and it's that more than Kaz's tight hold on the tails of his jacket that stills his struggling. She manages a small bout of high, nervous laughter, her hands gripping Ralph's shirt to hold him upright as he glares at Matt. "He's had a bit too much to drink tonight, that's all – he just needs to sleep it off."

Arthur eases out of his chair, stamping out his cigarette on the table. "I'll help you get him back -"

"Don't trouble yourself, dear." Alex smiles softly at him, shaking her head as she eases an arm

around Ralph's waist. "We'll manage – always do."

Arthur gives a reluctant nod and with one last darting glance at Matt, who hasn't stopped staring at her, Alex turns and begins to lead her husband away. He watches them walk back toward the train tracks and their car until the dark night swallows them up, and Kaz pats his back in sympathy.

"We tried to tell you," she says, relighting Arthur's cigarette for him. "She'll never leave him."

Pushing aside the glass with the smeared lipstick, Matt shrugs, like his chest doesn't feel hollowed out and empty. "He can keep her. Just give me a drink, would you?"

"I've got a drink for you." He raises his head tiredly and finds one of the dancing girls standing in front of him, a bottle of moonshine dangling from her fingertips. She smiles and he tries to remember her name. Something floral. Lily? "But you'll have to let me sit with you."

Before he can scoot over to make room, she plants herself right on his lap, arranging her short, feathered skirt over her thighs before draping her arms around his neck. She smirks, her lips bright pink, the same color as the rouge on her cheeks. God, what is her name? Violet? She offers him the bottle with a tantalizing little shake and he snatches it from her. "Thanks," he mumbles, and drinks.

Kaz raises an eyebrow at him but turns her back, leaving him to it. The girl – Flora? Rosemary? – threads her fingers through his hair and traces her fingertips over his eyebrows and down his nose, coy smile firmly in place. The dancing girls have been throwing themselves at him since the day he arrived, for reasons he can't begin to fathom. Arthur says it's because he keeps refusing them and they like the challenge but Arthur also thinks it's hilarious so Matt isn't quite sure his opinion can be trusted.

"You know, there's a perfectly good seat right next to me," he says after his third sip.

The girl – Daisy? Yes, that's it. Daisy. – merely blinks at him. "I'm comfortable where I am, sugar. You don't mind, do you?"

"I -" He sets his jaw, his mind wandering back to a hollow-eyed blonde walking away from him, making excuses for her drunken husband. She'll never leave him. Determination in his every move, Matt slowly slides a hand up Daisy's knee and squeezes. "Of course not."

Daisy lights up, giving a pleased wriggle as she settles closer against him. "Good."

He passes the rest of the night with her at his side, bestowing him with lingering touches and kisses that leave a stale taste in his mouth. He flirts with the sole intent of taking her to bed, determined to rid himself of Alex and his ridiculous, unattainable love for her in any way he can. He drinks until dancing with her pressed against him doesn't make him uncomfortable. He wraps his arms around her waist and strokes her hair, lets his mouth brush her ear and along her cheek. He closes his eyes and whispers exactly what he'll do to her once they're alone. Daisy shudders and kisses him, hands wrapped firmly around the collar of his jacket to keep him close.

Those who haven't yet retired to bed at sunrise watch them stumble off together, arms wrapped around each other, and he knows by the time he wakes, everyone in the camp will know. He stops suddenly, staggering in place, Daisy clinging to his arm and giggling into his shoulder. "Matt?"

Everyone will know – including Alex.

The thought of her sitting down to breakfast in the morning and hearing from gossipmongers that he'd taken a dancing girl to bed after she left… his stomach churns. It shouldn't matter to him what she thinks. He's a grown man and he can do what he likes. Just as her life is none of his business, his life is none of hers. Still, it does matter. It matters a great deal what Alex thinks of him.

Daisy kisses his neck and walks her fingers slowly up his chest. "You promised me a place to stay tonight, remember?"

He nods hurriedly and feels his stomach lurch. Clapping a hand over his mouth, he mumbles through his fingers, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Instantly, Daisy steps away from him, nose wrinkled, and he has just enough time to turn away from her before he sinks to his knees and heaves up the contents of his stomach – an acrid combination of homemade moonshine and cheap whiskey. It burns at his throat like acid and he gags, fisting the grass under his hands as he vomits. Behind him, Daisy pats his back awkwardly and murmurs quietly to him, obviously trying to be soothing. When his stomach stops protesting and he's strong enough to lift his head, she smiles thinly at him.

"Alright?"

He nods weakly.

"I'll just go back to mine, then. Let you rest." She raises an eyebrow. "Unless you still want a bit of company?"

"Honestly?" She nods. "I'd really like to sleep."

She fiddles with her feathered skirt, looking oddly shy for a woman who planted herself on his lap a few hours ago. "I thought you might." She smirks. "Pity, though. I'm very good."

He nods, flushing. "I'm sure you are."

With one last wink, she turns on her heel and starts walking away, hips swaying. "Goodnight, lion tamer."

Matt waves half-heartedly after her, breathing a sigh of relief. Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he climbs shakily to his feet. Still a little nauseated, he walks slowly past all the train cars and the sick feeling magnifies tenfold when he shuffles past the train car where Alex and Ralph sleep, as he does most nights in hopes of catching a glimpse of her. Tonight, the doors are closed and Matt walks by with his head down, his stomach churning again.

An appreciative groan on his lips when he reaches his own train car, he climbs in with absolutely no grace whatsoever, banging his knees against the side of the car as he clambers inside. He curses under his breath, trying not to wake the already sleeping Kaz and Arthur. Crawling over them in the dark, he retreats to his little corner and curls up on the straw bed, drawing his scratchy woolen blanket up to his chin. His last thought before sleep is that even if Daisy thinks he's a sap now, at least Alex's opinion of him is safe.

Alex hasn't spoken to him in days.

In fact, he doesn't think she has so much looked at him since the impromptu party in New Orleans. She leaves with Ralph every morning after breakfast instead of joining him, Arthur, and Kaz. She doesn't even seek him out in the menagerie tent in the afternoons and even if she's still angry over what happened between him and Ralph the other night, surely she would stop by to see the lions, if nothing else. Tut has been moping about for days, grumpier than usual and snarling at Matt's commands.

His agitation makes Matt nervous – a moody lion in the middle of the arena is a disaster waiting to happen. He tries not to be anxious around the lions, knowing they'll sense it, so their second night in Dallas, he waits outside the menagerie tent until it's time for his act, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands shoved into the pockets of his red coat. In the Big Top across the way, the crowd roars, enthralled by the fire-eater. It's a full house tonight, every seat taken. He'd glimpsed all the happy, smiling faces earlier when he'd peeked inside during Alex's act. He hates watching, can barely breathe until the last knife has been thrown and he knows she's safe, but he can't bear not to watch either, as if his worried eyes on her will be enough to protect her.

She hadn't acknowledged him after, walking by swiftly, her head down and Ralph at her side. Matt had watched her go and wondered why he bothered caring what she thought – she clearly doesn't care what he does or whom he's with. She cares only about the bastard who treats her like a possession. He only wishes he'd heeded Kaz and Arthur's advice from the beginning – falling in love with a married woman is a sad fate, indeed. It's just too late to do anything about it now.

He sighs, pacing in front of the menagerie tent until he hears his cue – Uncle Moff introducing the tightrope walker in his booming voice, promising the lions they've been waiting for all night right after. The butterflies are ever present right before a show and they don't really disappear until he's in the center of the arena. No matter how many times he does this, no matter how much he trusts his animals, he doubts he'll ever stop being nervous.

Straightening his shoulders and running a hand through his hair, Matt breathes deeply and strides into the menagerie tent, swiping the tent flap out of his way to reveal Alex standing in front of the lion cage, smiling and cooing at the great beasts. Tut nuzzles into her palm like a housecat, purring. Melting a little at the sight of them, Matt crosses his arms over his chest and smiles. "They've missed you, you know." Alex jumps, snatching her hand out of the cage and turning to look at him like a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

She glances away quickly, turning to pat Tut on the head fondly. "It's fine," she says softly. "I missed them too."

He hesitates, suddenly feeling miles away from her instead of just a few paces. "And I missed you

– practice isn't quite the same without you around."

Shoulders tense, Alex drops her hand once again and bites her lip. "I've been busy."

"It's fine. Honestly. I knew he'd -" He stops, shaking his head, and repeats, "It's fine."

Alex frowns. "No, what? Finish."

He brushes past her, fishing the keys for the cage from his trouser pocket. "It doesn't matter."

"You knew who would what?" She steps in front of him, blocking the lock from his reach and looking up at him stubbornly. Dressed in a blue sequined top, a tulle skirt and ballet slippers, she isn't exactly a formidable sight but Matt caves anyway, a knot of warring affection and hurt in his chest.

"I knew he'd eventually forbid you from seeing me." Alex stares at him, lips parted in surprise and eyes blank. He pushes her gently aside and she doesn't resist, stepping out of the way without a word. "He controls you, like a damned puppet. It was only a matter of time."

Unlocking the cage, he curls his hand around the barred door and glances at her. Lips pursed and chin quivering, she shakes her head. "You're wrong."

"Then why have you been avoiding me?"

Alex doesn't reply, clenching her jaw tightly and staring at the ground.

"Is it because of what happened the other night? Because I'm sorry, all right?"

She glances up sharply, eyeing him with barely concealed hope.

"The bast– he was threatening you, Alex. I couldn't just sit there!" He deflates as her face falls. "I just snapped."

She clears her throat, eyes back on the ground once more. "He didn't mean it. He was fried."

"He's always fried," he snaps, and instantly regrets it when Alex flinches. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I have to go." She glances once more at the lions, her eyes softening as she looks at them. "Good luck tonight, Matt."

"Alex, wait." He reaches for her wrist, holding her just enough to stop her but not enough to keep her if she wants to escape. She doesn't try to get away but she tenses like a startled bird about to take flight. He brushes his thumb soothingly over her wrist and licks his lips. "I'm sorry -"

She trembles, and he hears the tremor in her sigh. "I'm sorry too." She refuses to meet his eyes but he sees the tears welling in them. "I'm being ridiculous. I just – I need time, okay? It isn't your fault."

"Right, of course." He nods, brow furrowed. "Take all the time you need." Still confused, he releases his grip on her wrist and Alex flees without another word, disappearing through the tent flap just as he hears the final applause for the tightrope walker. Pushing aside thoughts of Alex, he takes a deep breath and lets the butterflies take over.

Alex's brief visit had done wonders for the animals and they perform as he asks them to with little resistance. They even roll over onto their backs, legs in the air and bellies exposed at exactly the same time. Matt kneels between them and gives them tummy rubs, grinning up at the roaring crowd. He delights in looking out over the audience and seeing the smiling faces of children, in awe of the tamer of beasts.

He doesn't have time to think of Alex and their strange conversation until hours later, after the show concludes for the night and the lions are back in their cage. He likes rewarding them for their good work in the show with extra treats right before bed, fishing through his tin of oatmeal cookies for the ones with the most icing on them. He tosses one in toward Tut, snorting when Mek leaps on it with a possessive snarl.

"Hey, learn to share!" Mek ignores him, devouring the cookie, and he sighs, glancing at Tut. "You gonna to let her get away with that?" Tut shakes his wild golden mane and snuffles, swatting lazily at Mek as she strolls past him, treat won and tail swishing. Matt shakes his head, disgusted. "Some king of the jungle you are."

He puts away the biscuit tin and is just about to put out the lights and go to bed when he hears a commotion outside the tent. It sounds like yelling… in fact, it sounds alarmingly like Ralph yelling. Halfway to the tent flap before he's aware of even taking that first step, Matt nearly collides with Alex as she runs at full speed into the tent, barreling into him and sending them both sprawling backward.

The wind knocked from his lungs, Matt sputters and wheezes, staring up at her in shock. Alex scrambles off him hurriedly, eyes wide and wild, her hair in disarray. The costume she'd been wearing earlier tonight has been replaced with a nightgown, thin and trimmed with lace. Even

clearly panicked, she looks like a vision. "Alex?" He manages as he gets his breath back, sitting up on his elbows. "What are you -"

"Shh," she hisses, and yanks him to his feet urgently. "Hide me."

"What? Are you alright -"

She waves him away impatiently, glancing over her shoulder. "I'm fine, I just – Ralph is quite angry with me. I would have gone to Kaz but I wasn't sure she could hold him off this time and I remembered you said -" She looks up at him pleadingly, eyes hopeful and he nods, grasping her by the elbows and pulling her further into the menagerie tent.

"This way," he whispers, and leads her toward the lion cage. "You'll be safe in here."

"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?" She asks, watching him fumble with the keys. The lions perk up at the sight of her, tails swishing and purrs in their throats already. Matt would be jealous if he weren't so damn grateful. Nowhere in the world will be safer for Alex than in there with them.

"You know they won't hurt you," he says, and opens the door, ushering her inside. As the sound of Ralph's voice grows louder the closer he gets, no doubt searching every tent along the way for his runaway wife, Matt shuts the cage door with a clang and locks it, handing the keys to Alex through the bars. "Hold onto those."

She barely has time to hide them behind her back before Ralph storms into the tent, one of his knives clutched in a fist. "Where is she?"

Matt steps aside with a smirk, revealing Alex standing in the middle of the lion cage, barefoot in her nightie, surrounded by three great beasts. They circle around her almost protectively, tawny eyes on Ralph the way Matt imagines they might survey their prey, had they ever actually been in a jungle. To him, they're nothing but overgrown, tame housecats but right now, they're a fearsome sight to behold.

Ralph growls, stalking toward the cage. "Get out of there, Alex."

She laughs, a short hollow sound that makes Matt's stomach twist. "Go to hell, dear."

"Do you want to be eaten, you ignorant -"

The moment he's close enough to the bars, Mek strikes out a paw, swiping angrily at him and snarling. Ralph stumbles back in surprise but he recovers quickly, brandishing his knife in front of him. Tut realizes his intention before Matt does and releases a mighty roar, stepping in front of Alex. Sharp teeth exposed and lips curled back in a snarl, he looks just as fierce as any jungle lion and Matt silently apologizes for questioning his ferocity.

Ralph backs up with his hands in the air until Tut stops growling at him, his eyes locked on Alex. "If you don't get out of that damned cage right now and come back with me, there will be consequences, do you understand?"

Alex rests a hand on top of Tut's head and lifts her chin defiantly. "And there won't be any consequences if I go with you?" He glowers. "It looks as if I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place. But between the two of you, sugar, I think I'll risk the lion's den."

Ralph turns on him without warning, grasping Matt by the collar of his coat and shoving him up against the bars of the cage. The lions rumble threateningly. "Where are the keys? Give them to me."

Matt doesn't struggle, raising a thin eyebrow and hoping he manages to look bored by the boorish display. "Sorry old boy, I don't have them."

A jingle of keys catches his attention and Ralph looks up to see Alex holding them aloft, safely ensconced in the cage with her. "Do you mean these keys, husband?"

Ralph lunges for them and Tut roars again, nearly catching his fingers between sharp teeth. Cursing, he releases Matt with a hard shove. Straightening his coat in annoyance, Matt glances reassuringly back at Alex just to make sure she really is fine and returns his attention to her fuming husband. Attempting a calm, soothing voice rather than giving in to the urge to pummel the bastard, he says, "Go to bed, Ralph. Sleep it off. You're not getting near her while you're half-seas over – at least not without losing a limb first." He meets the blonde's eyes in challenge, working his jaw silently. "And that's before the lions get to you."

A warning in his gaze for Alex, Ralph pockets his knife slowly. "Your darling beau can't protect you forever, my little vamp." He bows mockingly, smirking at them like he's already won. "I'll see you at breakfast."

He turns and strides out calmly, as if he hadn't come charging into the tent ten minutes ago like a raging bull and the moment he's gone, Matt slumps against the bars of the cage with a sigh of relief. The lions settle instantly and the sudden absence of Ralph's grumbling threats and the growling of wild animals is startling. It's only in the stark silence that Matt remembers he and Alex aren't exactly on the best of terms at the moment.

She seems to remember at the same time he does, clearing her throat hesitantly. He turns and manages a thin smile. "Alright?"

She nods, holding out the keys to him through the bars. He takes them, his fingers brushing hers, and they both gasp quietly and pretend not to notice. "Thank you, Matt," she says softly. "I'm sorry for interrupting your night with my problems."

"Don't be a dumbbell." He unlocks the cage and holds out a hand. Alex takes it and allows him to help her out, noticing for the first time how very small her hands are. He squeezes them lightly, inspecting her palms and fingers for cuts, unsettled by the idea of Ralph swinging his knife around when he's angry. "He didn't -"

She shakes her head, pulling her hands from his with a wry smile. "I'm quick."

"You shouldn't have to be." He grits his teeth and shakes his head, his whole frame nearly vibrating with fury. "Was he zozzled again?"

"No," she answers simply, turning from him to shut the door to the cage, clicking the lock into place. "Just angry."

Matt leans against the cage and right into her line of vision, watching her avoid his gaze guiltily. "Why?"

She bites her lip. "I slapped him."

"You what?" He gapes at her, the hysterical urge to burst into laughter tickling at the back of his throat. He stifles it quickly but cannot help grinning in amusement as Alex blushes prettily.

"He was provoking me," she mutters, ducking her head. "Telling me – oh, it doesn't matter. The

point is he made me angry. So I slapped him."

"And then?"

She shrugs. "And then I ran. Self-preservation, I suppose."

He watches her reach through the bars of the cage to stroke her finger down Tut's nose fondly, pointedly avoiding his gaze, and his mind races. What could Ralph have possibly said to make Alex angry enough to slap him? He's never seen her well and truly in a lather before – he imagines it's quite the sight to behold. He didn't even know she was capable of being angry with her husband. She never is, not even when she has every right to be – like when he drunkenly threatens to kill her. Even then, she'd only been angry with Matt. Her husband had been the reason he'd snapped, the reason Alex had needed to leave the party to look after him, the reason Matt made a drunken fool of himself in front of Daisy –

Oh.

Christ, he's an idiot.

He'd been so wrapped up in the knowledge that he hadn't actually bedded Daisy that he hadn't thought at all about whether or not everyone who had watched him leave with her knew it. That familiar, nauseated feeling returns with a vengeance and his grip on the bars of the cage turns white-knuckled as he thinks of Alex hearing from gossip-mongering, unreliable sources that he'd left the party with Daisy clinging to him. He imagines them recounting to her how he'd laughed and flirted and danced with her and kissed her, and suddenly Alex's silence makes sense.

Except it still really doesn't.

"Well," Alex sighs, dusting off her hands and turning to him with a faint smile. "Would you mind sharing your corner of the train tonight? I don't believe I'll be welcome in mine."

He blinks at her, mind still firing rapidly in an effort to connect all the pieces. "Erm, yes. Of course." He offers her his arm and she links hers through it with a grateful wink. "I wouldn't let you go back tonight anyway."

Or at all, if he had his say.

Alex follows him along willingly enough but he can feel how tense she is, the way she leans away from him rather than into his side like she might have before – well, before he made a drunken, jealous fool of himself. "Have I said thank you yet? Because I don't know what he would have done if he'd caught up with me. I've never seen him so enraged before."

Matt tightens his grip on her arm and shakes his head. "I didn't do anything – the lions did."

"You're right." She nudges him playfully. "You were quite useless – they did all the real work. Remind me to give them extra cookies tomorrow."

"Does that mean you'll actually visit me tomorrow?" Alex stiffens, looking anywhere but at him. "It's only, you said you needed time and I -"

"I know what I said, but -"

"I didn't sleep with her," he blurts, unable to stand another moment of her believing otherwise.

Alex stops walking, turning to look at him with wide eyes as her arm slips from his. "Who?"

"Daisy."

Paling, she shakes her head quickly. "I don't -"

"Alex," he breathes, and she pauses, silent. Taking her small hands reverently in his own, Matt meets the heavy weight of her gaze unwaveringly. "I didn't sleep with her."

He watches her throat work as she swallows thickly. "You didn't?"

Shaking his head, he feels her relax in his grip, the tension falling away from the tips of her fingers as they rest against his. Her eyes glitter in the dark as they stand out in the open, caught between the circus tents and the train tracks in the distance. "But why do you care if I did? You're married, remember?"

Alex snatches her hand from his and starts walking without him, her pace so rapid he struggles to keep up with her. "I don't care," she insists flippantly. "She's just… dancing girls have reputations, you know. Ralph is... quite friendly with them. You can do better, that's all."

"So can you." He stumbles after her and reaches out, capturing her hand once more and pulling her to a stop. "What are you doing with that sap, Alex? I know you don't love him. My god, you're gorgeous and talented and any man on earth – including me – would consider himself damned lucky to even touch your hair. What hold could he possibly have over you?"

"He's all I have!" She snaps, tears welling in her eyes. "Ever since I was eighteen years old, that man is all I've had! I barely remember anything but him! And I certainly couldn't remember what it really felt like to have someone who gave a damn." He stares at her, heart squeezing painfully in his chest, and Alex sniffles, her nose bright red. "Not until now, anyway."

She doesn't resist when he gathers her into his arms, her own slipping beneath his coat to wrap around his waist. He holds her tightly to him, resting his chin on top of her curls and letting her bury her face in his chest, her whole body trembling. He hums soothingly, stroking his hand up and down her back, dropping gentle kisses into her hair. "It's alright," he whispers softly, his voice catching. "You've got me now, sweetheart. And I can promise you I'm not going anywhere."

"He could kill you," she says into the tear-stained fabric of his shirt. "He still might."

"I'm not afraid of him." He grasps her shoulders and pulls away to smile down at her, hoping he looks vaguely reassuring. He taps her nose fondly, laughing quietly when she wrinkles it. "I've got three lions. What's he got? A couple of pocket knives?"

She snorts but looks cheered and he counts it as a victory. "You underestimate him, darling."

"Or you underestimate me. Your faith in me is terribly flattering." He grabs her hands and begins to pull her along gently. "Now come on, you need to sleep."

They make it the rest of the way back to the train car Matt shares with Kaz, Arthur, and the occasional stray clown without incident. He helps her to climb inside and holds her hand as they stumble over the sleeping bodies strewn over the floor, giggling breathlessly until they make it to his own private corner. He fluffs up the straw and lays down his blanket, helping Alex settle in before throwing his coat over her to keep the chill away. He brushes her hair from her cheek and whispers, "Goodnight, Alex."

"Wait, where are you going?"

He gestures helplessly behind him, hoping he won't have to explain that he'd planned on curling up without a coat or a blanket in the middle of the floor so she wouldn't think he was trying to take advantage of her. "I was just -"

She rolls her eyes and lifts the coat. "Get over here, darling. As if I'll just take your bed and not share it, honestly."

"Well I didn't want to presume," he grumbles, stifling a smile as he joins her. He curls his lanky frame around her smaller, curvy one, wrapping an arm around her waist and hoping it keeps her a little warmer. "Is this alright?"

Instead of answering him verbally, Alex turns to nuzzle into his side and tilts her head, her soft lips brushing over his in the dark. He inhales so sharply in surprise he nearly coughs on air but he recovers quickly, raising a hand to slide into her curls and hold her to him as she opens her mouth hungrily, slicking her hot tongue over the seam of his lips. He groans softly, opening his mouth to allow her inside. She tastes like moonshine and powdered sugar, a strange, intoxicating combination that makes him cling to her as she devours him. Hands on either side of his face, Alex plunders his mouth greedily, little breathy sighs escaping her lips as she runs her tongue over his teeth, slides it along his own and sucks.

Head spinning, he whimpers and barely manages to remind himself through the cloud of lust quickly fogging his brain that one, they are not alone in the car and two, Alex is too emotional to be making any decisions right now – especially ones as serious as infidelity. Even with those things in mind, he cannot bring himself to stop kissing her, so he starts slowly, sliding his hands up her arms to cradle her face in his hands until she drops hers from his cheeks. He hums soothingly into her mouth. She melts against him and he gentles her kisses with soft, slow brushes of his lips over hers, stroking her cheeks with the pads of his fingers. He presses her into the straw floor and kisses her languidly, soft and feather-light, like a happy, wordless bedtime story. You're safe with me, he promises silently, his mouth against hers sealing the oath.

Exhausted and emotionally wrung out, Alex slips away into dreams with her lips still pursed against his own. Matt pulls back with a sigh, stroking her hair from her face and brushing his thumb lightly over the corner of her mouth. This gorgeous, vulnerable, imperfect woman will be the death of him.

"Sweet dreams, doll-face," he whispers into the dark, and curls his body protectively around hers through the night.

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine

Chapter Summary

He doesn't see Alex all day. She'd promised she'd at least stop avoiding the lions but the longer she stays away, the more his bitter imagination conjures images of all the making up she has to do with her husband.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Lover of the Light by Mumford and Sons. Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on the last chapter - they were very much adored and appreciated. You have no idea how encouraging it is to know that you're enjoying the fic!

He opens his eyes in the morning to an empty train car and quickly squashes the disappointment before it can settle over him. He'd known there was a chance he would wake up alone – Alex had been looking for a temporary place to sleep until her volatile husband had time to calm down, not a permanent place to rest her head. Rolling over to stare at the faded ceiling of the car, Matt touches his fingertips to his lips and recalls the taste of her kiss, the hot, hungry slide of her mouth over his. It hadn't meant anything, he tells himself firmly. It was just a distraught woman seeking comfort from a friend.

He sits up and runs his hands through his hair, picking out bits of straw and stretching languidly. He climbs from the car, walks to the meal tent and nods to people he sees on his way, congratulating himself on handling the situation like a mature adult rather than a jealous boy – and he keeps being a mature adult right up until the moment he sits down at his usual table and with his plate of breakfast and cup of coffee, looking across the room out of habit to search out Alex. She's sitting across from Ralph, allowing him to slice an apple with the same knife he'd been threatening both of them with last night, handing her the pieces with a pleasant smile and watching her eat them.

Matt can't help staring outright in incredulity. She's just sitting there, almost smiling at him, and eating the slices of fruit he hands her – like nothing at all had happened last night. Like she hadn't needed to surround herself with wild animals to keep Ralph from harming her. He drops his gaze angrily to his plate and ignores his friends' concerned glances, letting his coffee go cold. There is no denying he's jealous – whether that kiss had meant anything to Alex or not it had meant something to him and god, how can he watch her with her husband when he'd held her in his arms last night, warm and soft and trembling?

This isn't just about him and how stupidly he'd fallen in love with a woman he can't have. It's about Alex and what's she's doing to herself, willingly staying with a man with such violent mood swings. One minute he's a charming as a snake and the next he's either drunk and threatening or sober and angry enough to hit her. One day, he's going to go too far. One day, she won't be quick enough to get out of his way.

More than anything – more than even the burning jealousy or the concern over her wellbeing – there is anger. Anger at Ralph for being the bastard he is, anger at himself for caring about a woman who refuses his help and any way out, and anger at Alex for always going back, for staying with a man who doesn't really love her while rejecting one who'd give her anything. Disgusted – with everyone including himself – Matt leaves his breakfast on the table and his coffee untouched, striding from the meal tent without a backward glance.

He retreats to the menagerie tent to hide away with his animals. It's the only place that feels sane anymore. He trains with Tut, Pac and Mek for the show that night, practicing relentlessly for hours, stopping only for water breaks and the occasional treat. He doesn't see Alex all day. She'd promised she'd at least stop avoiding the lions but the longer she stays away, the more his bitter imagination conjures images of all the making up she has to do with her husband.

By the time night falls and the crowds start pouring in, Matt is a ball of nervous energy, jealousy and anger. It's a dangerous, explosive combination but he has enough sense to stay away from people, pacing the length of the menagerie tent and listening to the noise coming from the Big Top, waiting for his cue. Unfortunately, Alex doesn't have the sense to avoid him, appearing moments before her act, hovering tentatively in the entryway.

"Thought I might find you in here," she says softly, beautiful in a ruffled yellow skirt over a sparkling leotard. He glances away, unable to stomach the way the sight of her still makes him want to reach out and touch her, in spite of everything. After a long moment of silence in which he stares a hole through the other side of the tent and Alex waits for him to reply, she finally speaks again. "I just wanted to say thank you, for last night. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't -"

"I'm sure someone else would have helped you," he says, shrugging.

"Maybe." He can sense her eyes on him as she moves closer, her fingers trailing whisper soft over the tent canvas. "But you did last night. I'm very grateful, Matt." She hesitates, the air around them thick with all the things she is choosing not to say. "I believe I may have overstepped the boundaries of our friendship last night – I was upset and I hope you can forgive me."

He flinches, grateful she can't see him. The warm press of her lips, the way she'd clung to him – he'll cherish it as long as he lives but it really hadn't meant a damn thing to her had it? "Don't mention it." He can't look at her, can't bring himself to turn around and watch her pretend that

she's fine; that she isn't so unhappy the only time she truly smiles is when she hasn't thought of her husband for hours. "Everything all right with you two then?"

"Yes, I think so." She sighs quietly, so close behind him he can almost imagines he feels the warmth of her breath against his neck. "I apologized to him."

"You apolo -" He stops, letting out a hysterical laugh, and finally turns to face her. Alex stares back at him, wide-eyed and pale. "You apologized? He chased after you with a knife and you apologized?" He snorts, shaking his head and turning his back on her once more. "They were right. You're going to stay with him for the rest of your miserable life, aren't you? Make excuses for him and walk that thin line, hoping if you're good and he's in the right mood -"

"What are you going on about, Matt?" Alex lays a hand on his arm, tugging gently, but he jerks out of her grip and steps away. "Darling -"

"I'm fine, Alex," he says blankly. "Go back to your loving husband. I'm sure he's noticed your absence by now."

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's the matter with you. " She reaches for him again, the touch of her hand burning his skin even through his tailcoat and the shirt beneath it. "You won't even look at me. I've ruined everything, haven't I? I'm sorry about last night, really I am-"

"Oh, for fuck's sake it's not about the kiss, Alex!" He whirls on her, coattails flaring around his knees and eyes burning with irritation. Mouth agape, she stares up at him in stunned silence. "You know it's not about that. It's about the way you go crawling back to him every time -" He swallows thickly, struggling to keep his voice from catching. The rest of his diatribe dies in his throat and he finishes with a soft, "You deserve better."

Tears welling in her eyes, Alex purses her lips and glances away. "What would you have me do?"

"Leave him!" He sputters, incredulous. "You don't have to be with me – I get it, you're not interested – but my god, leave!"

"And go where?" She turns her gaze back to him, green eyes bright with annoyance and oh she looks magnificent when she's angry with him. "The circus has been my home for so long I wouldn't even know what to do if I left it. I don't want to leave it – I don't know how to do anything else. And I certainly can't leave Ralph and remain here. I'm trapped, Matt. There is

nothing I can do."

He shakes his head, tears in his own eyes as he reaches out a hand and cups her cheek, his breath catching when she leans into him. "There is always something."

Across the lot, the sound of Uncle Moff's booming voice announcing the next act sends Alex stumbling away from, wiping hurriedly at her cheeks. "That's me. I have to go."

He nods, smiling tightly.

"Are we -" She hesitates, biting her lip hopefully. "Are we okay?"

"Course we are." He winks. "Good luck."

"You too." She turns to hurry off but stops, glancing back with a grin. "You're wrong, you know."

He frowns. "About what?"

"Me not being interested."

As the words and their meaning settle in, she disappears from the tent and Matt is left beaming stupidly at an empty room. Next to him, Tutankhamen snuffles and Matt glances over his shoulder, still smiling. "Oh, shut up."

Uncle Moff's office is right behind the head end of the train, a small but elegant little box with the words Hartnell Brother's Most Spectacular Show on Earth emblazoned across the side in fading paint. The inside is cluttered in an organized, mad genius sort of way – fantastical clothes scattered here and there, a bright blue curtain closed only halfway to reveal an actual bed behind it rather than the makeshift sort Matt and the others sleep on. On a scratched desk in the corner, along with a lit lantern and an array of antique pens, is a stack of papers held down by an elephant tusk. Behind the desk, Uncle Moff sits with a curious smile. "Well, if it isn't my successful little greenhorn. What can I do for you?"

Matt shuffles his feet anxiously, hands behind his back. "I wondered if I might have a few minutes of your time, sir. I've got a bit of a proposition for you."

Uncle Moff raises an intrigued eyebrow. "Come in, then. Have a seat."

The seat is more like an upturned wooden crate with a cushion on top but Matt sits anyway, tapping long fingers rapidly against his knee as Uncle Moff shuffles his papers and puts them away. When he finally looks up and gives Matt his full attention, he blurts, "It's about Alex."

It's been about Alex for days. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about how to get her away from her husband. He doesn't even know if she'll take the opportunity if she has it but he wants more than anything for her to have the choice. The thought of her feeling trapped in her marriage and in that potentially deadly circus act makes him physically ill. After turning the problem over in his mind for days on end, not breathing a word to anyone – even Alex herself – he thinks he has a solution but it will only work if Uncle Moff approves.

Uncle Moff frowns. "Alex Kingston? The target girl?"

"Is that her last name?" Matt lights up, grinning to himself. Kingston. It has a nice ring to it. Except… "Or is it his?"

Lips twitching, like he can read the disdain in Matt's voice, Uncle Moff shakes his head. "No. It's hers. About the only thing she had her own way about, I imagine. Now, what about her?"

Leaning forward in his seat, elbows on his knees and hands clasped between them, Matt lifts his gaze to Uncle Moff's. "I want to include her in my act. As my assistant."

Clearly caught off guard, Uncle Moff stares at him in silence for a long moment, brown eyes narrowed and scrutinizing. "Why?"

Matt resists the urge to fidget, looking the man squarely in the eye. "For one because she's being bloody wasted as a target girl and you know it as well as I do."

"And you think her talents would be better served as your assistant instead?"

Matt shrugs. "I think she'd be happier there. And I only plan to make her my assistant long enough to get her used to working with the lions – after that I'd rather she be my partner."

Uncle Moff lifts an eyebrow. "Two lion tamers in one act?"

"It's not unheard of," Matt argues. "And once I've got three lions in the act, it might be difficult on my own. I'm no professional. I could share my wages with her if you're worried about giving her a raise or -"

"Money isn't a problem, Mr. Smith. Our profits are more than adequate. But if it's a little help you want, I can certainly find someone available rather than taking a woman from her husband's act." Uncle Moff eyes him suspiciously. "Ralph would never have it, anyway."

"You're his boss – does it matter what he wants?"

"It does when it's his act and his wife." Uncle Moff snorts. "What's this about Mr. Smith?"

Matt sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. "What if I told you Alex doesn't want to be Ralph's partner anymore? In any sense."

"Ah." Uncle Moff frowns deeply, tapping his fingers against the edge of his rickety desk. "Well that changes things – you had me thinking you were just an infatuated boy looking to get a married woman alone." He grins and Matt flushes, shaking his head. "But if Alex is willing -"

"I don't know if she is yet or not, sir," he answers honestly. "I wanted to ask your permission before I mentioned it."

"Alright, if she decides that's what she wants I certainly won't stop her. Heaven knows she's put up with her ill-tempered husband longer than even a saint would have the patience for. Finding Ralph another target girl would be as easy as picking up a doe-eyed dame in the next town. But I won't have domestics interfering with my show." Uncle Moff looks at him pointedly; fingers pausing in their contemplative tap tapping. "If the two of them can't separate and remain civil, one of them will have to go."

Matt nods in understanding, chest tight with hope. "With all due respect, sir, if it comes to that, I suggest it would be easier to replace a knife-thrower than it would a lion tamer and a beautiful woman like Alex."

Eyes twinkling with mirth, Uncle Moff chuckles softly under his breath. "Yes, yes, you're a package deal now. Understood. Now get out of my office, Mr. Smith."

Finding Alex once he leaves proves to be a bit of a challenge. The menagerie tent and the meal tent are both empty, and he doesn't dare look for her in her car for fear Ralph is there too. He avoids walking past the car where the dancing girls sleep or the tent where they have their shows

– seedy little burlesque shows for men willing to pay a nickel. He doesn't want to risk running into Daisy. After what happened weeks ago, he still blushes in mortification whenever he sees her. Daisy only seems endlessly amused by it, which makes it worse.

Finally, the only place left to look is the Big Top and he spots her almost instantly, sitting by herself in the stands, head tilted up and a soft smile on her face as she observes Kaz and Arthur practice their act. Matt is long used to seeing them in action but she watches with fascination, delight, and a little bit of awe. He wonders if the look on her face is anything like the look on his when he stares at her.

As if sensing his gaze, Alex drops her eyes from Kaz and Arthur and sees him standing near the entrance, watching her with a soppy grin. She smiles back, lifting a hand to wave tentatively. He moves slowly toward her, feeling a bit like a fish wriggling on a hook, pierced through his belly and tugged along to the fisherwoman waiting on the other end. He sits next to her, closer than he probably should, and relishes the warmth of her thigh pressed against his. Alex doesn't try to scoot away or give him more room, seemingly content with him flush against her side, their arms brushing. For some unfathomable reason, it gives him hope.

"You certainly know how to wear a fella out," he says, nudging her gently.

Alex glances away from Kaz and Arthur, blinking at him. "Well I certainly do my best, darling," she purrs.

He snorts, forcing back a shiver lest she feel his whole frame shudder with it. "Not like that. I've been looking everywhere for you."

"Well, I've been right here."

"Yes, thank you. I realize that now." He shakes his head fondly. "What are you doing here anyway?"

She shrugs. "I like watching them." She glances up again and Matt follows her gaze, watching Kaz and Arthur leap through the air, always preternaturally aware of where the other is at all times. Swinging from a bar by his knees, Arthur lets go without warning, soaring through the air until his hands find Kaz's. From her, he swings away again, to the next bar and then it's Kaz's turn to let go, trusting him to catch her. "It's romantic, don't you think? Even in mid-air, they manage to find each other. The trust they must have in each other…"

Pursing his lips, Matt leans lightly into her side, smiling a little when he feels Alex press back against him, the corner of her mouth curling up. "I trust you that much."

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, and he's so close her curls brush his cheek. "Oh, stop it."

"I'm serious." He nudges her again, plucking at a curl. "And don't pretend you don't trust me."

Alex snorts derisively. "You could argue that I trust Ralph just as much. I let him throw very sharp knives at me every night."

"That isn't trust, Alex. That's fear – you don't have a choice, remember?" He stares at her in silence until Alex huffs and turns to look at him, her mouth a thin line and her eyes pained. "But you're not afraid of me."

"No," she admits softly, green eyes scrutinizing his. "I'm not."

He grins. "You trust me. Come on, say it."

Alex glances away, laughing dryly as she crosses her arms over her chest.

"You let me lock you in a cage with three lions," he says, prodding her side with a finger.

Alex swats at his hand, obstinate as ever. "That was showing trust in the lions, darling. Not you."

"You came to me," he counters softly, eyeing her profile carefully and noting the way her eyes drop to her lap. "You ran from him and you came to me. You trusted that I would look after you – that I would catch you."

She swallows, glancing slyly at him, her curls obscuring half of her face. "And you did."

He nods, smiling gently. "I always will."

"Don't," she shakes her head, looking away again. "Don't make that promise."

"I already did. Can't take it back now." He leans forward, elbows on his knees and chin in his palms. "I need to talk to you about something, Kingston."

She glances up sharply, eyes narrowed. "Where did you hear that? I never told you my last name."

"And a shame it is, too. Brilliant last name." He beams. "I spoke to Uncle Moff this afternoon."

She frowns and mutters, "Of course. Who else?"

"Stop pouting, it's unbecoming, Kingston." She scowls and he laughs, determined to call her by her last name as often as possible. It fits – whether she likes it or not. "I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?" Her face changes instantly, intrigue lighting up green eyes. He watches the flush of curiosity deepen the pink in the apples of her cheeks and wonders if interest has ever looked quite so becoming on another. "What is it?"

"I want you to work with me." He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and breathing out through his nose, hoping to calm the anxious racing of his heart. This is her chance, possibly the only one she'll ever get. He's extending a hand, offering to help her out of the bleak situation she's been stuck in for years, and if she doesn't take it, he doesn't know what he'll do. He can't bear to see her wilt another day in Ralph's shadow. "As my assistant."

Alex stares at him, lips parted in surprise. "But… Ralph -"

"Uncle Moff says it would be simple to hire another target girl," he says quickly, barely hearing the words that spill from his mouth over the rushing of blood in his ears and the litany of please say yes, please say yes. "And you could leave, Alex. You could work with me and the lions – you already spend so much time with us anyway, it would be easy to put you into the act."

She purses her lips tightly and glances away, tears welling in her eyes. "I would love that, darling. It sounds… too good to be true."

"But it isn't, Alex. Uncle Moff has already agreed -"

She shakes her head, eyes shut tight. "Do you really think Ralph would let me go peacefully? That I could just say I was leaving and move into your train car and live happily ever after?"

He sets his jaw stubbornly, reaching out to grasp her hand. She lets him, turning her palm over to lace their fingers together. He brushes his thumb softly over her knuckles. "Don't worry about him, Alex. Don't even think about him. This isn't about Ralph. This about you." He squeezes her hand and she looks up, tears slipping down her cheeks and tentative hope in her eyes. "Do you want this?"

She nods, swallowing thickly. "Very much," she whispers.

He grins hugely, unable to contain his relief as he drops kiss after kiss to her hand, still joined tightly with his. "Then that's all that matters. I'll take care of the rest."

Alex bites her lip, still looking unsure. "But darling -"

"He won't harm you. I swear it." He takes her other hand, bringing them both to his chest and pressing them over his heart, watching her earnestly. "You think I would ever let him near you?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not worried about me, darling. I'm worried about you."

"Me? I'm a lion tamer, Kingston." He winks; pressing his lips to her hands, warm perfumed skin he can't help but touch with reverence. "I can look after myself."

Smiling reluctantly, Alex releases a choked laugh that makes his chest tighten. "Are you sure about this? I wouldn't even know what to do -"

"And you think I did when I started? You know I was hopeless. Besides, I think you know a lot more than you give yourself credit for." He lets go of one of her hands to cup her cheek, thumb tenderly wiping away the remnants of tears there. She leans into the touch instantly, warming his heart without even trying. "Your stage presence is amazing. God, you don't even realize how much he's been holding you back, doll. You're going to be brilliant."

She sniffles, nose adorably red as she grins back at him, and he can't remember ever seeing her quite so happy. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll be your assistant."

His delight is instantaneous, climbing up his throat and spilling out of his mouth in a full-bellied, giddy chuckle. Alex looks just as elated, his brave girl who has seen her chance for freedom and snatched it with both hands. He yanks her into his arms and squeezes her to his chest. Nearly in his lap, Alex clings to him with a watery giggle. "Oh, you and I are going to be magnificent, Kingston. You won't regret this, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that, darling." She curls her small hand around the back of his neck, fingers stroking lightly, and he shudders, pressing his face into her hair.

"There's one more thing though," he says lowly, refusing to release her just yet. Alex doesn't seem in any hurry to move, her breath light and warm against his ear. "I don't want you to remain my assistant. Only until you're used to working with the lions in front of an audience."

Alex tenses and he squeezes her hip reassuringly. "And after I'm used to it?"

"Then I want you to be my partner."

She pulls away, pale and unblinking as she stares at him, arms still wrapped around his neck.

Their noses nearly brush and Matt goes a bit cross-eyed trying to look at her. "You what?"

He laughs softly, taking her face in his hands and pulling back to gaze at her properly. "I want you to be my partner, Alex. My equal."

"Me?" She asks faintly, eyes wide. "A lion tamer?"

"You were made for the job," he insists softly, and tugs at a blonde ringlet. "It's the hair."

Instead of laughing or rolling her eyes like he expects her to, Alex makes a choked noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob and throws her arms around his neck. Matt cradles her to him, arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. He rocks her back and forth for a long time, stroking a hand over her hair and letting her compose herself, shaky exhalations against his neck as she struggles not to cry. "Where were you eighteen years ago?" She finally manages, voice cracking.

"Woefully unaware of your existence, unfortunately," he mutters, kissing her hair. "You'd have liked me though. I was such a cute kid."

She shoves at his chest, laughing softly. "Must you remind me what a pervert I am?"

"There's a way to shut me up, you know." He tilts his head back and eyes her suggestively.

"I certainly do." She leans in and for a moment he thinks she's actually going to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut and some unnamed feeling curls around his ribs, squeezing the air from his lungs. He waits, feeling her breath warm and sweet against his mouth. And then he feels the press of her lips against the tip of his nose.

He blinks open his eyes and stares at her, speechless.

Alex grins mischievously. "Unconventional, but it did the job."

He harrumphs, hoping it will distract her from the way he blushes up to his ears, flustered as a schoolboy. "Is that a yes then, Kingston?"

She nods, tentative. "On one condition… let me tell Ralph in my own time." He opens his mouth to protest but Alex shakes her head, looking at him pleadingly. "It'll only be for a short while, just while we practice. I need time to figure out a way to tell him. Me leaving him and the act – for you and your lions, no less. He's so unpredictable, there's no telling what he'll do when he finds out."

"He will find out, Alex, one way or another. People talk. It would be best if he heard it from you."

"And I'll tell him." She drops her eyes. "Just not yet."

"You don't have to be afraid of him, you know."

She lifts her gaze, smiling weakly. "Hard habit to break, darling."

He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face and ruffling his hair in agitation. "And you're going to, what? Remain with him in the meantime?"

"I've gotten along just fine up to now. Another week or so won't hurt." She leans in again but he keeps his eyes open this time, watching her lips purse, a smile still somehow curving her mouth and rounding the apples of her cheeks as she presses a fond kiss to his nose. "Trust me. Trust me like I trust you."

He nods reluctantly, an uncomfortable knot in his chest. "If he finds out before you tell him -"

Alex smiles, looking at him with such faith it makes his heart leap into his throat. "You'll be there to catch me."

And here I am holding on to you

Chapter Summary

It's as easy as breathing to incorporate Alex into his act. She already spends nearly as much time with the animals as he does and he has his suspicions the lions like her more than they do him. Not that he can blame them. Alex would be his favorite too.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from You've Got the Moon by Josh Ritter.

The circus moves from Oklahoma City to Santa Fe within two weeks, and all the while Alex remains with Ralph, training with Matt whenever she can get away. She continues her role as target girl in the meantime and he can tell having the duties of both jobs is starting to wear on her but he doesn't push – mostly because the changes he sees in her are so encouraging. Spending more time away from Ralph, she smiles nearly constantly and laughs often. She's full of ideas for their act, nearly bouncing with excitement whenever she strolls into the menagerie tent in the afternoons. When they're practicing their act, she radiates a new confidence he's never seen from her before, as if she were born to be in the spotlight. Matt can see her blossoming right before his eyes and it makes every effort, every moment spent watching her from afar, every chance he took being gutted with one of Ralph's knives just for befriending her worth it.

It's as easy as breathing to incorporate Alex into his act. She already spends nearly as much time with the animals as he does and he has his suspicions the lions like her more than they do him. Not that he can blame them. Alex would be his favorite too. They respond to her like she's a part of them, and with her help, Pachet is added to the act to incorporate all three lions at once. With Alex, he feels as if he has finally found his place in this circus and it's with her working alongside him.

There's only one problem, he realizes, walking back to the menagerie tent carrying two heavy buckets filled with water. Though, he has to admit, it's a rather wonderful problem to have. The more time Alex spends with him and the nearer she is, the closer he finds himself to sheer insanity. The woman is driving him spare with her little touches and smiles and the memory of their kiss always lingering in the back of his mind, a temptation he dare not give in to for fear of ruining everything.

Dropping the water buckets next to the others inside the tent, Matt dusts his hands off on his trousers and heaves a sigh, standing back to survey his work. Ten buckets of water should be enough, shouldn't it? He doesn't think he has the strength to make another trip so it will have to

be. He nods decisively, lifting his head to grin at his lions, watching him curiously. "We're going to have some fun. Just as soon as Kingston gets here."

He could swear their eyes light up at the sound of her name, though he knows it's a ridiculous, fanciful notion. He's the one who lights up – at her name, the sound of her voice, the sight of those curls. Everything she is and does makes it difficult to concentrate – the way the hem of her dress lifts to reveal lovely knees whenever she raises her arms to direct the lions, the gentle but commanding way she handles them, her bright laugh whenever Tut rests his giant head in her lap, the way she touches Matt nearly constantly, her hands always lingering a moment too long. He would think she was doing it on purpose if it didn't know Alex so well – the seemingly innocent touches are just that. She has no idea what she does to him. He ignores the affect she has on him the best he can, focusing on making sure she feels comfortable and safe, teaching her what little he knows and working with her to make the act as exciting as possible. His own feelings are temporarily on hold.

"What's all this?"

He turns, a grin already on his face, and finds Alex standing just inside the tent, hands on her hips and eyebrow raised questioningly. Dressed in a pair of tight-fitting khakis, boots and a white blouse, her curls carefully tucked away in another colorful scarf, she looks as tempting as ever and he struggles to keep from stuttering. No matter how many times a week he sees her, that first glimpse at the beginning of each new day is enough to make him speechless. Clapping his hands together and rubbing them in anticipation, he declares, "Today, we're giving them a bath."

She stares, head tilted in quiet disbelief. "We're what?"

"Come on, they're filthy – look at them." He gestures to the cage where Tut sits staring at them, mane tangled around his head. Pac and Mek stand behind him, covered in bits of straw and dirt. "I want them to be relatively clean for our first show in California."

She sighs, dropping her hands from her hips. "Alright, but if they rebel, I'm letting them eat you."

"A blatant lie." He tosses her a sponge and she catches it with a roll of her eyes at his smug glance. "You'd miss me."

"Actually, with you out of the way, I could just take over the whole show," she reasons, smirking at him.

He scoffs. "Like you haven't already." She doesn't reply, pursing her lips together and winking. Grinning goofily, Matt turns and unlocks the cage. Getting the animals lined up and sitting still is easy enough, but it's an entirely different story once they start tossing buckets of water on them. Like all cats, they don't appreciate water anywhere but in a bowl for them to drink, but unlike all those other cats, these overgrown ones have claws and sharp teeth and very intimidating roars.

They would never hurt Matt or Alex, at least not on purpose, but they squirm and roll around on the ground like children, anything to get away from the water and soapy sponges. They put up a valiant fight as Matt and Alex wrestle with them, laughing helplessly and sustaining a few scratches for their trouble. Water soaks Matt's shirt and his trousers but in a struggle to get Tut's mane clean and tangle free, Alex gets her hair doused and it drips down her back and the front of her white shirt in lank, dark golden curls.

Clutching his sponge, Matt collapses into laughter at the sight of her, mouth open in shock and annoyance in her brow. Even dripping wet and scowling, she looks absolutely fetching but before he can manage to tell her so, Alex huffs, "Oh, shut up," and throws her sponge at his head.

He squawks, ducking away, but not before the sponge manages to swipe over his hair, making it stand on end, soapy and damp. Alex bites her lip but fails to suppress a giggle, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Alright, Kingston. You've had it now." Rolling to the side, he grabs a half empty bucket of water and lunges. Alex shrieks with laughter, scrambling away from him and over the grumpy, drenched lions in her path. He soaks her front anyway, tossing aside the bucket to give chase. "Surrender yet?"

She answers him with a bucket of water to the face, leaving him coughing and sputtering, his fringe dripping into his eyes. Holding the empty bucket to her chest, she stands only a few paces away, watching him with laughing eyes. "Oops."

Shoving his hair from his face, he growls, "Oh, you saucy little bearcat-" He surges forward, arms outstretched, and Alex only has time to shout in surprise before he tackles her right to the ground, pinning her wrists above her head and straddling her waist. She struggles for only a moment before giving up, laughing too hard to put any real effort into getting away. Chuckling, Matt gazes down at her fondly, watching her get her giggles under control, and notices for the first time how soaked her white shirt has become. Soaked enough that he can tell she isn't wearing a thing beneath it, the sheer, wet material giving him a tantalizing glimpse of rosy, peaked nipples.

Swallowing hard, he instantly leaps away, scrambling to his feet with a pounding heart. Alex blinks up at him in confusion and he tries to smile, holding out a hand. "Truce?"

Grinning again, she nods and slips her hand into his, letting him help her to her feet. "Truce, darling."

They turn their attention back to the animals, clean now but still dripping wet. Matt deals with Pac and Mek, drying them off as best he can with towels and running a brush quickly over their short coats. Alex sits on a short stool, Tut sitting imperiously between her legs, looking more like a drowned kitten than the king of the jungle. With the two females safely tucked away back inside the cage, Matt leans against the bars and watches Alex in silence, a small smile on his face. She murmurs quietly to Tut as she works a comb through his mane, cooing nonsense at him to keep him calm and complacent. He watches her content smile, the way her curls fall around her face in damp ringlets, the flush of color on her cheeks, and falls just a little more in love than he already was. She is absolutely glorious and if this – always watching and admiring from afar – is all he can have, then he will learn to live with it.

Laughing quietly to herself as she twists a small braid into Tut's rapidly drying mane, Alex whispers conspiratorially, "This may feel silly now, but you'll thank me later, once the ladies are pawing at you. Literally." She giggles. "Because they have paws, get it?"

Tut snuffles.

Alex sighs. "I thought it was funny." Matt snorts, struggling to hide it in a well-timed cough, but Alex glances up with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head, grinning besottedly at her. "About done?"

She turns back to Tut, fluffing his mane one last time and eyeing him critically. "Yes, I think so. How does he look?"

"Oh, gorgeous. Ten years younger, easily." Matt snaps his fingers and Tut climbs to his feet lazily, lumbering over as slowly as possible just to be obstinate in revenge for bath time. He climbs into the cage, joining Pac and Mek, flops down with a huff and refuses to make eye contact with any of them. "Look, you've embarrassed him with that girly braid. He's ashamed of himself."

"He is not!" Alex laughs, shutting the cage door and locking it. Matt lingers behind her, most certainly a touch too close as he inhales the damp scent of her hair. "He's just sore about getting all wet. He'll feel much better once he's dry again. And he loves my braid, so hush." She turns and finds herself nearly face to face with him. Lifting her eyes to his, she laughs softly, her grin radiant. God, he loves seeing her so happy. He'd do anything to keep that look on her face forever

– gorgeous and soaked through, dirt on her clothes and smile dazzling. "Darling, what-"

Unable to stand another second being apart from her, Matt doesn't let her finish, cupping her

cheek in his hand and closing the distance between them, covering her soft, sweet mouth with his own. He meant what he said before – he would learn to live with loving her from afar but not without trying with all his might to love her as close as he possibly can first. Alex doesn't pull away like he expects her to, wide-eyed and protesting. Instead, she sighs very quietly against his lips and kisses him back, her hands curling into the wet fabric of his button-down.

Kissing Alex is just as perfect now as it had been the first time, just slower and achingly tender. Despite his initial first move, he lets her lead now, unwilling to push her. When her tongue slides along his lower lip without his prompting, he opens his mouth to let her inside with a groan. She tugs him closer, fingers sliding up his shirt to grip the back of his neck. "You taste so good," he breathes, sliding a hand into her damp hair and breathing softly against the corner of her mouth. "So sweet."

Whimpering, Alex stretches on her tiptoes and kisses him again, harder this time. It's a kiss that steals the breath from his lungs, her breasts pressed tightly against his chest and her tongue plundering his mouth, seeking and searching, devastating him with a breathy little moan. He wraps his arms tightly around her waist, keeping her close and relishing the feel of her small and curvy against him. "Matt, darling." She brushes her lips over his chin, the line of his jaw, her fingers trembling as she strokes his hair. "Touch me, please. I want you to."

It's what he's wanted to hear for months and his heart soars and flutters in his chest but he swallows, drawing back to look at her searchingly. "Are you sure?" He has to ask. Ralph may be a bastard but cheating is cheating and he won't be something Alex gives in to in a moment of weakness and regrets right after. His heart couldn't withstand it. He strokes her cheek reverently, looking into wet green eyes. "I need you to be sure. I can't – I won't be -"

Alex shakes her head, placing her hand over his on her cheek. "Darling," she says softly, a slow, wide smile spreading over her lovely face as she looks up at him. "You are the only thing in my life I've ever been absolutely certain about."

The train cars are mostly empty when he leads her to his, everyone either practicing for the show or smoking to calm their jittery pre-performance nerves. Sliding the door shut would leave them in total darkness and more than anything, Matt wants to see her face the first time he makes love to her. He leaves the door open, willing to risk just about anything for the chance to see the look on her face as he touches her.

Their hands shake as they undress each other, stroking and caressing bare skin as it's revealed. His mouth hard and bruising against hers, he slips her shirt from her shoulders, letting Alex fumblingly unbutton his trousers. She starts on the buttons of his shirt as he kicks his boots and trousers off, her fingers stroking his abdomen. He shudders, hands sliding up to cup the firm weight of her breasts in his palms. Alex arches into him, fisting his shirt as he strokes his thumbs over her nipples.

"Gorgeous," he breathes reverently. "You are so gorgeous, Kingston." She shakes her head, looking achingly shy and unsure for a moment, like he's feeding her a line. He lifts a hand to her face and meets her eyes, letting her see the adoration in his as he repeats softly, "Gorgeous."

She smiles, leaning up again, her mouth hot and hungry against his. "You're not so bad yourself," she murmurs, caressing his jaw.

He offers her a chuffed grin. "Well, I'm a lion tamer, you know. Comes with the job. A requirement, really – must be dashingly handsome -"

She laughs and pushes his shirt from his shoulders, soft mouth brushing over his collarbone. "Do you have any idea how often I've looked at you and been entirely incapable of thinking about anything but touching you here?" Her other hand drifts lower, brushing the erection straining against his underwear, and Matt feels his mouth go dry. "And here?"

He swears, turning his head and kissing her roughly, but he keeps his hands gentle as he guides her to the floor, where he'd spread out his red greatcoat over his makeshift bed. "Thought about touching you everywhere," he confesses, mouthing along the elegant line of her throat.

Alex moans, hands sliding over the bare skin of his back. "Show me."

"Here," he whispers, and envelopes a dusky nipple in the warmth of his mouth. Alex gasps, threading her fingers through his hair and arching beneath him. He swirls his tongue over her, feeling the nipple pebble under his attention. Capturing it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, he sucks ardently, relishing the way Alex cries out. "And here," he says, switching to the other one to give it the same attention until Alex tightens her fingers in his hair. "Here too." He mutters, kissing a path down her abdomen and nuzzling his face into her belly to listen to her giggle. Ticklish, he thinks, and files it away to investigate later.

For now, he tugs down her tall brown boots and tosses them away, unbuttoning her trousers. Alex lifts her hips, helping him slide them down her legs and off. Her underwear follows quickly after and he pauses to stare down at her in awe. "Christ, look at you." He swallows, taking in captivating curves and tanned skin, full breasts still slick and red from his mouth on them, muscled thighs and all that hair. "What are you doing with a fella like me?"

"I could never resist a lion tamer." She laughs softly at his frown, her eyes bright and adoring. Lifting a hand to his face, she strokes a thumb over his sharp cheekbone. "Silly man, you're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Kneeling between her spread legs and eyes misting over, Matt drops a tender kiss to her knee and replies, "Back at you, dollface." He brushes his mouth along the inside of her thigh, breathing in the scent of her arousal. His mouth waters and he groans, hands closing around her thighs to spread her open, revealing slick and tantalizing pink flesh.

Alex gasps as he leans in. "W-what are you doing?"

He pauses. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She blushes, looking away. "It's just, Ralph never -"

Ah.

Matt presses another kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling her quiver. Slipping long fingers through her folds and biting his lip hard at how very wet she is, he watches avidly as Alex shudders, eyes dark and wide as she gazes back at him. "He doesn't know what he's missing. And I want to know exactly what you taste like."

After a long moment, Alex nods, voice breaking as she whispers, "Please."

The first stroke of his tongue, flattened and curious against her slit, makes her cry out, a strangled gasp in her throat. The tip of his tongue circling over her swollen clit makes her grip his coat beneath her, head thrown back and curls spilling over her shoulder. "Oh god," she breathes. "Darling."

He hums soothingly, fingers stroking over her thighs as he opens his mouth wide and envelopes her cunt. She tastes sweet and clean, soaking wet and heavy on his tongue, like the mist in the air after a hard summer rain. Matt can't get enough, his fingers digging into her skin and his nose mashed against her clit as he explores every fold and crevice. He strokes her inside and out, reveling in the sounds of ecstasy spilling from her mouth as she thrashes beneath him.

She rolls her hips, rutting wildly into his mouth, and seeing Alex so undone is a glorious, masterful thing. He draws back, lips slick with her arousal, and quickly replaces his tongue with his fingers, burying two of them knuckle-deep inside her. He crooks them just right, glorying in the way her hips jerk and her breath stutters. Lowering his mouth to her clit, he sucks the swollen little nub between his lips and shuts his eyes, listening to Alex scream as she shatters, her whole

body trembling and arching as she comes.

As the tremors stop, he crawls back up her body and presses a kiss to her shoulder, petting her hair when she curls into him, still gasping. "My god," she breathes. "That was… I've never -"

He laughs softly, inwardly thrilled to have pleased her so. Smoothing her hair from her eyes, he promises, "I'm going to spend the rest of our lives making you feel like that, over and over again. With short breaks for coffee and our act, of course."

She stretches languidly, smirking. "A noble endeavor. I think I'll accept."

He grins and leans in to kiss her, the tang of her arousal still on his lips and the sweetness of her mouth on his tongue when he slips it between her eagerly parted lips. It's a dizzying combination and he clings to her, filled to the brim with so much feeling it's impossible to contain it all any longer. "I love you," he whispers to the corner of her mouth, somehow managing to get the words out around the lump in his throat.

Alex beams, that gentle light in her eyes flaring and burning bright as her lips curl into the widest smile against his mouth. "I love you too, darling. Long before I would ever admit it."

The moment he lifts himself up over her and shifts his hips, sinking slowly inside, Matt has to pause, breathing harshly into the soft skin of her shoulder. She feels extraordinary, hot and wet all around his aching cock, but more than that, it's Alex beneath him – the woman he fell in love with just watching her take a bow in the middle of a crowd, Alex who captured his heart with a flash of golden hair in the dark, Alex he has spent every moment since trying to shield and protect. And through some miracle, this astounding woman chose him – a lanky, bumbling amateur lion tamer with nothing to offer her but honest, genuine love. He'll spend the rest of his life being grateful.

Sweat-slicked limbs entangled, they move fluidly together, hips rocking and skin slapping against skin. Alex clings to him and whispers his name like a promise. Hair wild around her face, cheeks flushed and all that gorgeous skin spread out over his coat – he'll never, ever put on this coat again without thinking of her and her quiet, breathless moans – she looks as amazing as she feels and he tells her so, his voice hushed and strained as he moves steadily within her.

Alex gazes up at him like she can't quite believe he's real, legs wrapped tightly around his waist and fingers digging into his shoulders. "You really mean that."

She says it with wonder in her voice and he threads his uncoordinated fingers through her hair. "I

mean it every time I tell you how amazing you are – always will."

Raking her nails up his back, Alex locks her legs tightly around his hips and arches beneath him, capturing his mouth in a hard, greedy kiss that lessens the ache in his chest just a little. "You're a sap," she breathes.

"Only for you," he promises hoarsely. His muscles tremble and his belly floods with heat, his fingertips and the base of his spine tingle with warmth, like a bottle of whiskey on cold nights, but he holds himself back. Grunting with the effort of filling Alex again and again without breaking, he presses his forehead tightly to hers, looking into wide green eyes as she whimpers and tightens around him, a brief fluttering of muscles just enough to make him moan aloud. "Come on, doll. Let me see you." He moves faster, harder, stifling the urge to just let go. It has to be her – it has to be Alex coming undone beneath him.

He grits his teeth and it only takes another moment of his quiet pleading before he gets to watch her face as she gives in. She clutches him to her and throws her head back, lips parted in a strangled, lovely cry. The sight of her debauched and in a moment of complete abandonment pushes Matt to his breaking point and he hisses her name, burying his face in her sweat damp curls as his hips stutter, pumping hard. His cock throbs as he spills inside her and he bites his tongue, overloaded by the exquisite pleasurepain of release.

Unwilling to squash her, he pulls out slowly and rolls away to collapse onto his back, breathing heavily. Alex curls her body around his instantly, her curves slotting perfectly against the straight lines of his longer, lankier frame as she rests her head on his chest and throws an arm around his waist. After a few moments of silence as they catch their breath, she presses a kiss right over his heart and asks, "Is it always like that?"

Matt threads his fingers through her tangled curls and frowns. "Like what?"

"So… much."

He smiles tiredly, tucking her closely into his side. "Not always. Depends on who you're with."

"It's never felt like that for me before," she confesses quietly, sounding small and tentative.

Heart swelling, he tightens his hold on her and plants a firm kiss to her temple. "Me either, doll." He never realized until Alex how empty were the things he used to hold so dear. A soft, warm bed alone is nothing compared to a train car floor if she's beside him. A willing young dame pales

now in comparison to the struggle and triumph of Alex finally surrendering her heart. Love changes everything.

Trailing her fingertips up and down his stomach, Alex presses her lips to his skin and whispers, "I wish we could just run away."

"We could," he ventures softly. "Catch another train back home – my home, I mean. I could go back to university, graduate with a degree that'll allow me to make ungodly piles of dough working in a bank or something. We could be Mr. and Mrs. Smith with the white picket fence and never talk about the circus again."

"We could," she agrees slowly, and the tone of her voice tells him that no matter what she says next, a small part of her wants it desperately. "But we won't."

"Why not?" He wants it too. Just a little. "He'd never find us."

"Maybe not, but would you be happy? You left town with the circus for a reason, darling." She props her chin on his chest and looks up at him, soft-eyed and sleepy. He loves her so dearly his chest aches with it. "You're a wanderer, just as I am."

"Alright," he concedes, tapping her nose. "We'll make it a backup plan."

She smiles. "I like a man who plans ahead."

"Oh really?" With a grin, he rolls her over onto her back and begins to concoct more fanciful escape plans, each more outlandish and wonderful than the last, whispering them all into the crook of her neck.

I'll be your hunter, you my lioness

Chapter Summary

He'd accused her of being a coward and now Alex isn't speaking to him. Secretly and only to himself, Matt admits that it isn't anger with Alex he's feeling right now – only fear that she'll change her mind and remain in a loveless, violent marriage because it's easier than walking away.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Lioness by Scott Mellis. Thank you all so much for your comments, messages and fan art - you're just too lovely *hugs*

The speakeasy in downtown Los Angeles is loud, bustling with music and dancing, laughing people, drinks flowing freely and money carelessly spent. The atmosphere is joyful and just a little bit drunk; the air heavy with secrecy but not even a shady, underground nightclub can compete with the secrets at the little table in the midst of it all. Matt keeps his eyes on his drink and pointedly does not look across the table where Alex sits, smile fixed in place and Ralph's arm draped over her shoulders.

It's their first night in Los Angeles and Kaz had insisted they go out and have a drink instead of staying within the circus grounds as they usually do. Matt had been looking forward to seeing Alex all dressed up and swinging her around the dance floor – their first date. But of course, the moment Alex tried to leave the circus grounds, Ralph had put his foot down and insisted on accompanying her. He can't bear to glance across the table and look at them.

They'd argued, just moments before setting off together. Alex had insisted it wasn't her fault that Ralph decided to come along but he countered that it most definitely was – she still hasn't told her husband she's leaving him and their act even though tomorrow night is their first show together.

He'd accused her of being a coward and now Alex isn't speaking to him. Secretly and only to himself, Matt admits that it isn't anger with Alex he's feeling right now – only fear that she'll change her mind and remain in a loveless, violent marriage because it's easier than walking away.

"Darvill and I came here last year," Kaz says suddenly, loud and cheerful to make up for the tension at their table. "Isn't it the elephant's eyebrows?"

"Swell," Matt says, and Alex echoes him simultaneously. Startled, they glance across the table and their eyes meet. She looks stunning tonight in a beaded green dress that brings out her eyes, lips

painted a vivid red, and blonde curls pinned neatly away from her face with a jeweled headband. He swallows thickly and looks away, downing the rest of his drink. His hands shake and he hopes he hasn't given himself away – even angry with her, he can't help gazing at Alex in complete adoration.

Turning his head, Ralph brushes his lips over Alex's hair and smiles at Kaz. "Quite the little hidden gem. However did you find it?"

"Oh you know, wasn't look really looking for it," Kaz shrugs, momentarily distracted by Matt leaning over to steal her cigarettes. "Just got lucky."

Ralph drops a kiss to Alex's shoulder as he murmurs, "Exactly how I feel about my little hidden gem."

Alex manages a strained smile in reply and Matt takes a drag from his cigarette to keep from grinding his teeth together. "Thank you," she whispers, eyes on her untouched drink. She looks so much like she used to when he met her that he wants to hit something – namely Ralph.

Ralph glances around the table at large, his fingers curled tightly around Alex's shoulder now. ""Doesn't she look gorgeous?"

Mortified, Alex shakes her head and murmurs, "Stop it."

"I can't help it." He presses a kiss to her temple and her cheek, nuzzling her ear. "You're perfect." Glancing up again, he rests his gaze on Kaz and Arthur. "Isn't she?"

"I've always thought so." Kaz smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes as she lingers over Alex's uncomfortable expression. "Darvill?"

"Fond of redheads, myself." He frowns at her. "God knows why."

Kaz grins unrepentantly.

"Matt." Ralph speaks his name so abruptly everyone at the table jumps, Matt included. Cold blue eyes burn into his, a silent challenge. "Is my wife not the most glorious creature you've ever set

your sights upon?"

Alex stares at her hands, way past uncomfortable, her cheeks red and her spine straight. Matt allows his eyes to rest on her only for a moment before skittering away again, a knot in his stomach. "Divine," he mutters around his cigarette.

"I chose my poor bunny well." Ralph smirks, kissing the corner of Alex's mouth softly, and he looks at her with such tenderness Matt can almost imagine what had drawn her to him in the first place. It must have been so easy for him to turn on that charm and lure Alex into his twisted little trap, shutting it off the moment he had her where he wanted her – leaving Alex out in the cold, wondering what happened to sweet words and soft touches but too far gone to turn back. Rising fluidly, Ralph takes her hand with a bow. "Come along, my dear. They're playing our song."

Matt flinches and as Alex turns to follow him onto the dance floor, she casts him an apologetic look. Matt shrugs and taps the ash from his cigarette, looking away. The moment the unhappy couple is out of earshot, Kaz turns on him, the red of her hair somehow all the more vibrant against the lacy peach of her dress. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Matt avoids her gaze and nods gratefully when Arthur pushes another glass of whiskey toward him, mouth turned down in sympathy. He hasn't yet told his friends about Alex or his new act with her. The last thing he needed was their exchange of pitying looks and repeated warning that Alex would never leave. He needs to believe the impossible, not the reality Kaz and Arthur would push upon him.

Kaz waves an incredulous hand and nearly smacks Arthur in the face. "Don't give me that, Smith. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone in this room sensed that tension – hell, maybe even out on the street or three counties over! I thought the two of you were gonna draw your weapons of choice and walk twenty paces – whoever wins gets the pretty dame."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Matt takes another drag, eyes flitting toward the dance floor. Ralph and Alex are entwined, swaying in the middle of the crowd to Annette Hanshaw. As they turn, Alex's eyes find his over her husband's shoulder. Releasing a breath of smoke through parted lips, Matt holds her gaze and feels his anger melting away. He shakes his head once and Alex smiles feebly, as relieved as she can be in the arms of her jailor.

Across the table from him, Kaz snorts. "Yeah, tell it to Sweeney."

Matt scowls, turning to look at her. "She's married."

"And you're a sap for her anyway – have been since you joined this fleabag circus." Kaz leans back in her chair, hands laced on the table as she eyes him. Next to her, Arthur studies the table intently, obviously wishing to be anywhere else. "Don't think I haven't noticed how much time you two spend alone together."

Matt shrugs but his gaze drifts back to Alex again, giving him away. "We're friends."

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do when you think no one is watching." Kaz narrows her eyes at him. "How long have you been having a nookie?"

"Since Phoenix," he answers thoughtlessly, attention fixed on Ralph's hand, drifting lower and lower on Alex's back. The moment he realizes when he'd said, he jerks his attention back to the table but it's too late. Kaz gasps, Arthur sputters on a mouthful of booze and Matt has no defense, blushing up to his ears.

"Seriously?" Kaz stares at him, dumbfounded. "Oh my god, does Ralph know?"

"Of course not." Arthur scoffs, voice hoarse and eyes still watery. "He's still alive, isn't he?"

Matt rolls his eyes. "He isn't going to kill me – I can handle a drunken monkey like him."

"Ah, but you forget – this drunken monkey has an arsenal of pointy sticks." Arthur points out smugly. Matt taps the ash from his cigarette into Arthur's glass, eyebrow raised in challenge. "Mature," he mutters, snorting. "We've told you about her, old boy. We just don't want you to get hurt. Dames like her never leave their fellas, especially not for gangly things like you."

As the song ends, Alex and Ralph start to make their way back to the table and Matt only has time to reply with a short, "We'll see, Darvill."

Ralph sinks back into his chair and picks up his drink again. "We should go dancing more often, my dear. I'd forgotten how much fun we used to have. Do you remember?"

Matt stands swiftly while Alex lingers on her feet, nodding woodenly. "We need more booze," he announces.

"I'll help you carry it," Alex says quickly, and the two of them hurry off through the crowd toward the bar before anyone can say a word of protest or Ralph can stand up to follow. When they're far enough out of sight, Matt yanks Alex into a shadowed corner and pulls her into his arms, kissing her hard. She whimpers, tilting her head and clinging to the front of his suit, one small hand lifting to touch his face. "I'm sorry."

He shakes his head, running his hands up and down her thin beaded dress, kissing her temple and her cheek, the lovely corner of her mouth, as if his touch can wash away the memory of Ralph's. "I'm sorry. I was being a cad." He strokes his fingers over the jewels in her headband and kisses her forehead. "I was just afraid."

"Afraid?" She lifts a hand to take his, lacing their fingers together, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Of what?"

He shrugs, unable to meet her eyes. "That you'd changed your mind. That you didn't want this – us – me anymore."

"Darling, that's ridiculous!" Alex looks all at once horrified by the notion and ashamed of herself for making him think such a thing and Matt feels something warm and relieved unfurl in his chest. "I want to be with you. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you, fantasizing about one of our escape plans…" She strokes her knuckles over his cheek and brushes his hair from his eyes. "I just… I don't want him to stop me."

"What?"

"If he knows about us, about what we're doing, I have no doubt he'd do everything in his power to separate us or sabotage our act or -"

"Hey." Matt takes her face in his hands and silences her instantly, looking into panicked green eyes with all the confidence he can muster. "I won't let that happen."

"How would you stop him?" She shakes her head, taking a deep breath. "We need to blindside him – catch him off guard. If we do our act before we tell him about it, he won't be able to stop us. Just -" She pauses, biting her lip, and he kisses her knuckles encouragingly. "Just give me one night. I want our first act to be perfect."

Matt growls softly, pressing his forehead tightly to hers and gritting his teeth. Finally, he mutters, "The things I do for you, Kingston."

She laughs softly, leaning up on her tiptoes to press a swift, grateful kiss to his mouth. "Thank you, darling."

"One more night," he warns, voice low enough to make her eyes darken and her tongue dart out to lick red lips. "And then the only one to touch you and dance with you and sleep next to you will be me."

Alex smiles, swaying gently into him as she murmurs, "I can't wait to be your girl."

Holding her close, Matt shuts out the music, laughter, and people waiting for them to return with drinks. Instead, he presses his lips to her hair and promises, "You already are."

She isn't going to show.

It's the only thing running through Matt's mind as he paces the length of the costume tent – the dancing girls had long since vacated, Daisy smirking at him knowingly. Agitation in every clipped step and top hat wobbling dangerously on top of his head, he can only assume Alex has changed her mind and she doesn't want to risk everything she's ever known for a man she met mere months ago. He gets himself into a lather, absolutely convinced he'll have to do the show alone tonight and Alex will refuse to take part ever again – and more importantly, refuse to go through with leaving her husband – and five minutes before his act is due to begin, she comes rushing into the tent, grinning breathlessly at him.

"Sorry, darling. I couldn't get away." She starts stripping out of her target girl costume right in front of him, eyes sparkling with mischief when he stares openly. "Stop that. You can't afford to be distracted."

"Says the woman parading about in her altogether," he grumbles, glancing away. She hadn't been able to meet him last night, retiring to her private car with Ralph after their night out while Matt's insides writhed with jealousy.

"You can look later," she promises, reaching for her other costume – a short dress with a black bodice, threaded with elaborate gold brocade, silk red sleeves and ruffled skirt. It matches his greatcoat perfectly. "And if you're a good boy, maybe more than that."

He shakes his head fondly, stepping up behind her to do up the little buttons in the back. "Where's Ralph?"

"Watching the rest of the show in the audience." She breathes out a quiet laugh but Matt feels her tremble beneath his hands.

"Nervous?"

She nods silently.

"You're going to be brilliant." He does up the last button and kisses her shoulder. "And he's not going to hurt you."

Turning to face him, Alex smiles up at him anxiously and busies her idle hands with straightening the lapels of his coat. "Have I ever told you how dashing you look in this?"

He nods, smiling. "The first night we met." Reaching out a hand, he cups her cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing over soft skin. "Alex -"

"I love you," she says suddenly. She grips his collar and he watches her eyes take on a desperate, manic edge. "Whatever happens -"

"Nothing is going to happen, Kingston." He kisses her, slow and certain as his lips slide over hers. "We're going to be fine. Now, let's ankle. The show must go on."

He holds her hand as they walk into the arena, murmuring quietly not to look out into the crowd. If she sees Ralph, she'll freeze. Matt, on the other hand, wants to keep an eye on him, rapidly scanning the stands until he finds him. He's on his feet, staring at Alex with narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, hands balled into fists. He makes no move toward the arena, his last encounter with the lions no doubt fresh in his mind. It's what might happen after the show that worries Matt

– not that he'd ever tell Alex. She frets enough for both of them.

In the center of the ring with three lions at her side, Alex is in her element, graceful and confident, head held high. Matt knows when the time comes, she'll make an excellent partner. Hell, she'll be

better than him in a matter of weeks. They go through the routine they'd planned smoothly, Alex leading the lions around like a mother and her ducklings while Matt gives the orders.

She gets down on her hands and knees, mane of hair wild around her face, and blends in perfectly with the other three animals. She starts crawling toward him with a playful snarl, a little lioness. He jumps backward, cracking his whip, and the crowd laughs, delighted that he'd mistake her for one of his lions. She follows behind Tut, Pac and Mek around the arena for a while, shaking hands with him when he asks for their paws. She stands between them when Matt raises his arms, ordering the lions onto their hind legs. With petite Alex standing next to them, it only enhances how huge the animals are and the crowd claps and murmurs excitedly.

She begs for a treat along with the animals and he pats her head. "Good girl."

On cue, she leaps to her feet and shakes her curls, snatching his whip from his hands and cracking it in the air. The crowd stomps their feet and hollers, wildly entertained. She orders the lions through their next act, and they leap gracefully through hoops and over each other. Next, they lie down in a row so Alex can stretch across the length of their backs, reclining like a queen on her throne while three majestic beasts lie docile beneath her.

For the finale, Matt orders Pac and Mek to sit beside him while Tut stands in the middle of the arena with Alex, his huge paws on her shoulders as the two of them slow dance. They turn in tiny circles with Tut following her lead. The crowd roars their approval, laughing in delight. Alex laughs along with them and Matt can't help admiring the picture they make – Alex's wild golden hair mingling with Tut's ferocious mane as they dance cheek to cheek. They look magnificent together, like long lost soulmates.

When the dance ends and Tut drops back on all fours, Alex stoops to his level, glancing saucily back at the crowd before pointing at her cheek, watching Tut expectantly. The great animal heaves a mighty sigh, his tail flicking, and leans in to lick the length of Alex's face in a sloppy kiss. She wrinkles her nose, laughing along with the entertained audience, and stands.

Slipping his hand into hers, Matt takes a bow with Alex at his side, beaming bright enough to rival the lights shining down on their heads. The applause inside the Big Top is thunderous, each and every person on their feet and cheering. All except one.

Matt glances away from Ralph to see if Alex has spotted him – her happy laugh and bright eyes tell him she hasn't – and when he looks back, Ralph is gone. He doesn't get a chance to search for him before Alex draws him close, clearly caught up in the continued applause. Still grinning widely, she kisses him right there in the middle of the arena. Smiling into her mouth, Matt wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her off her feet. She laughs, hands on either side of his face as he kisses her back sweetly.

"Listen to them, Kingston," he says, nuzzling her nose. "They love you."

They take another bow and leave amidst the applause, Matt at the front leading the lions and Alex behind to make sure they follow obediently. When they reach the menagerie tent, he opens the cage door and they file inside, flopping down with exhausted huffs at a job well done. He leaves the door open to toss a few treats inside, turning to ask Alex to hand him some but the sight of her makes him pause – resplendent in her costume, face glittering with stage makeup and triumph in her smile.

Stepping into her personal space, Matt settles his hands on her hips as Alex sways toward him. Mouth lingering at her ear, he says, "You were absolutely incredible."

She laughs, low and throaty, just the way he loves. "Was I?"

"You always are."

They both freeze and Matt watches Alex's eyes widen in fear, the carefree grin gone. It infuriates him and he lifts his head to glower over her shoulder. Ralph stands just inside the tent, fists clenched at his sides. He pays no mind to Matt, blue eyes fixed on Alex as she slowly turns to face him. "Even when you're being a filthy, traitorous bitch, you never cease to be entirely captivating, do you, my dear?"

Matt hears Alex swallow and steps in front of her, as if he can use his body to shield her from his words as well as his fists. "Get out."

Alex curls her hand around his arm.

Ralph laughs softly, a dangerous, cruel noise that makes her recoil, and Matt feels her fingers tighten around his jacket. "Is this your new protector? Your darling little lion tamer? I always suspected – it was difficult not to with the two of you salivating after one another like dogs in heat

– but I never thought he'd actually have the nerve to touch you." He laughs again and Matt grits his teeth. "He's actually as dull-witted as you dare, my dear."

She bites her lip, taking a tentative step forward. "Ralph -"

"Shut up," he snaps, that eerie calm evaporating in the blink of an eye. "You leave my act and fuck the lion tamer behind my back -" Alex flinches. "But you know something, Alexandra? None of it matters because I know you. And you always come crawling back to me, begging for forgiveness. I might even take you back again, should you be prepared to accept the consequences of your actions."

Alex shakes her head, taking another step. "Not this time."

"Alex, don't be rash. I know we've had our problems but you're my wife. You belong at my side, where you're loved." His eyes soften and he looks at her imploringly. Matt doesn't even have time to fret over the abrupt change before Alex straightens her spine and shakes her head – oh his brave girl. "Do you honestly expect me to believe after all this time, you're going to walk away from me?"

"You can believe what you like, Ralph, but it's the truth." She steps closer, nearly in front of him now. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but I didn't know another way to make you listen to reason -"

It happens so quickly. Ralph raises a hand and Alex instinctively shrinks away but this time, she isn't fast enough. His hand connects with the side of her face, the harsh slap and her subsequent cry ringing out in the air as she stumbles back, clutching her cheek.

Matt sees red.

Before he's even consciously aware of taking that first step, he's across the room and launching himself at Ralph. They both topple to the ground, wrestling and snarling. Matt's fist connects with his nose and Ralph's elbow jabs his ribs, momentarily robbing him of his breath. He slams Ralph's head into the ground, his fists slick with the other man's blood. Over the roar in his ears, he can hear Alex shouting for them to stop and his lions growling in their cage.

He grasps Ralph by the collar of his dirty shirt, sneering down at that smug face and bloodied nose, and the words to tell him just what will happen to him if he ever touches Alex again are on the tip of his tongue. It's only a sudden, sharp pain in his abdomen that makes him pause. He glances down just in time to see one of Ralph's knives sliding wetly out of his gut, coated in red. Stunned, Matt can only stare as a dark stain begins to spread across his shirt.

Ralph smirks, blood in his mouth and coating his teeth. "Never bring your fists to a knife fight, son."

With a rough shove, he topples Matt from on top of him and rises to his feet. Matt crumples to the ground with a pained grunt, clutching his wound. Alex screams his name and he tries to lift his head and tell her he's all right but his limbs suddenly feel so heavy and his eyes want desperately to slide shut.

But no, he can't do that, not now. Ralph is still here and Alex needs him. He hears her shout in a trembling voice for Ralph to get away from her and he struggles to sit up, to stay awake, to move, anything to protect her like he promised. The roar of his lions reaches a crescendo and in the midst of a great crash, he realizes Alex is no longer the only one screaming.

He fights back the darkness creeping into his vision, making everything around him fuzzy and out of focus, dimly aware of Alex kneeling over him now, tears in her eyes. "Matt, no." She pats his cheek, stroking her fingers through his hair. "Stay awake, darling. Look at me."

He tries for her sake but he can feel himself slipping away. Over the sound of his lions growling and Ralph screaming, Matt finds the strength to whisper, "Sorry, dollface."

Alex shaking her head frantically in denial is the last thing he sees.

Before he opens his eyes, he feels a small hand squeezing his and smiles despite the pain in his gut. "Am I dead then?"

She laughs softly – his favorite laugh – and he feels her curls brush his face as she leans in to kiss his cheek. "Why don't you open your eyes and see?"

With a little effort, he manages it and once the blinding white of daylight fades, the first thing he notices is that he's in Uncle Moff's quarters – probably because he has the only decent bed. Alex is the only one in the car with him, sitting on the edge of the mattress and clutching his hand. Her eyes are tired and rimmed red, a bruise blossoming on her cheek. He reaches up to stroke his fingers over it and winces, hissing.

"Careful, darling." She fusses, arranging the blanket more securely around him. "Uncle Moff will be apoplectic if you pull your stitches and bleed to death all over his sheets."

Stitches? He yanks back the blanket and realizes for the first time that he's shirtless, a white bandage wrapped around his torso. "Christ, what happened?"

"Ralph pulled a knife on you." Alex smoothes his hair from his forehead. "But you forgot to lock the lion cage. The moment he turned on me, they got out and -" She stops, closing her eyes briefly.

Matt lays a hand on her thigh. "Is he -"

"He's in the hospital," she says softly. "They say he'll live but he'll never look the same again. He lost both his hands. But I took care of things – said it wasn't the fault of the animals. We left the cage unlocked by accident and they were only protecting me. I don't think the fuzz much cares what happens in the circus so long as it doesn't happen during a show, so I suppose we got lucky."

Matt nods slowly, silently grateful both to his lions for looking after their girl and to Alex for looking after them in turn. It's a rather poetic form of justice for Ralph – the very weapons he'd used to harm Alex have been taken from him. "He'll never hurt you again."

"Nor you." She presses her face into his shoulder, inhaling shakily. "He'll never throw another knife either. He's lost his place in the circus."

He wants to say good riddance. He wants to smile or dance – possibly both. He wants to send up a little prayer of thanks. But instead, he threads a hand through Alex's curls and holds her close, pressing his lips to her hairline. "Are you alright?"

She nods jerkily.

"Alex -"

"You scared me to death. What were you thinking throwing yourself at him like that?" She raises her head, letting him see the tears in her eyes, and he breathes out a quiet sigh of relief that her tears are for him and not for the fate of her husband. "He could have killed you, Matt."

"And he could have killed you just as easily, doll." He sighs, ignoring the pull of his stitches as he reaches up to wipe at her cheeks. "As if I could sit idly by and let him hurt you. You're – my god, Kingston – you're everything to me."

"No more heroics. I can't lose you." She sniffles, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. "Promise me."

He opens his mouth to say he'll promise no such thing, but what comes out instead is, "Marry me."

She blinks at him. "What?"

It might not have been what he planned to say, but the moment he says it, he knows it's right. He's been in love with Alex since the moment he laid eyes on her and every moment since has only deepened that love, strengthened and more profound for all their struggles. There will never be anyone else and after what just happened, he won't be able to rest until she is completely free of Ralph and safe in his arms instead – legally and bindingly his partner and equal. His girl, always.

"Marry me, Alex."

A slow, gorgeous, happy smile curls that infuriatingly lovely mouth. "What's in it for me, then?"

He laughs outright, recalling that day months ago – a young man pestering a beautiful woman over breakfast to keep his secret. "My excessively charming company?"

She hums thoughtfully, unconvinced. "Got anything else?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. I have three somethings." He ticks them off with a finger. "Tutankhamen, Pachet and Mekhit. By accepting my offer of marriage, you'll also gain full access and ownership of my lions."

Her eyes light up but she plays coy, pursing her lips. "What makes you think I want those three mangy beasts?"

He snorts. "Please, they worship you and you spoil them rotten. As a matter of fact, I think you love them more than you love me. Must have something to do with you all having the same hair."

Alex shakes her head at the familiar joke but the amusement doesn't quite reach her eyes as she watches him solemnly. "You know I love you, darling, but…" She sighs. "I don't believe getting married is the best idea – not even for the sake of the children."

"Oh." He feels his heart drop and struggles not to let it show on his face. "Right, sorry. We'll just forget -"

"I'm not saying no, Matt." She places a gentle finger over his lips to silence him. "I'm saying not yet. My abusive husband was just maimed horribly by lions moments after I announced I was leaving him – and I had to watch while cradling you in my arms as you bled to death." Her eyes fill up again and he reaches for her, a lump in his throat. "I've been with Ralph for so long now. I think I need time. For me – to remember what it feels like to be on my own and to know that I can be, and time for us to get to know each other without the need to sneak around." She exhales shakily and bites down on her lip, worrying it between her teeth. "Can you accept that? Can you wait for me?"

"What sort of question is that, Kingston?" He draws her head down to kiss her fiercely, cradling her to his chest like the precious being he'll make sure she always knows she is. "I'll wait forever, if I have to."

"I don't think I'll need that long." Alex pulls away, frowning. "But are you quite certain you aren't just asking for my hand to tame me and add me to the collection of beasts you rule over like a brutish dictator?" Like the playful charade in their act, she shakes her curls at him, a wild mane all its own.

"Never," he promises, stroking her hair. "I love my lioness just as she is."

"And what am I?"

He brushes his mouth lightly over hers again, smile widening when he feels her grin in reply. "Free."

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	4. Chapter 4

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/675300.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2013-02-08 Completed: 2013-04-10 Chapters: 15/15

Words: 48917

 **But that don't worry me none, in my eyes you're everything**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

She traces over that young face with her eyes and perhaps it's the wine and Matt's new giddiness making her a bit loopy but staring at him, she suddenly loses sight of the boy and sees only the man.

Notes

This is basically just the longest smut fic to ever exist. And since there is so much smut, some chapters may be shorter than others, just to break things up. Hope you're all okay with that:) Story title from the Rod Stewart song Maggie May and chapter title from Howlin' For You by The Black Keys. Takes place at the beginning of series 5. Inspired mostly by the quote below.

got a hold on me like glue

"I love Alex Kingston deeply. She's just a wonderful actress and a great friend. She's someone who, from the moment I walked onto the set of 'Doctor Who' has been a great influence on me and a real guiding light and took care of me really because it's quite a daunting thing, and she just embraced me so that was nice."

-Matt

It starts, oddly enough, with the need to mother.

He stands there in front of her, tugging nervously at his Guns N' Roses t-shirt, looking so bloody young as he watches her from beneath that mess of hair, his gaze shy and anxious, and her heart melts. She smiles as kindly as she can and reaches out to take his hand, wrapping his fingers in hers and suffusing as much warmth and comfort as she can into the gesture. "Hello darling, I'm Alex."

He smiles, blushing a bit, bless. "Yeah, I've, erm, heard of you."

God, she just wants to hold him close and coo at him and stroke his hair, telling him that everything is going to be just fine. She raises an eyebrow, stifling the impulse. "Ah, my reputation precedes me."

"In a good way," he hurries to reassure her, and she notices for the first time how wonderfully long those fingers are as they tighten around her own. "You're brilliant – I can't believe I'm getting the chance to work with you."

"That's sweet of you, dear. I'm looking forward to working with you too." Finally releasing his hand, Alex flexes her fingers at her side and wonders why her hand feels so warm and – not tingly, per se – but suddenly she is hyper aware that she has a right hand and exactly where his skin had brushed hers.

Matt runs his fingers through his hair, looking adorably anxious. "I just hope I don't disappoint. Not you, I mean everyone." His eyes widen. "But you too, obviously. I mean -"

Alex giggles, reaching out and laying a calming hand on his arm, suddenly quite sure that working with him will be no hardship at all. "It's okay, darling. I understand." He relaxes instantly under her touch. "And I don't think you've got anything to worry about. You'll be fantastic."

"You haven't seen me act yet," he points out softly.

She gives him a playful, self-important look. "I don't need to. I have a sixth sense about these things."

Matt seems torn between being polite and his own skepticism.

Putting a hand on her hip, she insists, "I do! And you, darling, are going to be brilliant." She winks at him and he flushes, looking pleased.

Alex bravely resists the urge to cuddle him.

It just wouldn't be professional.

At the first table read, she becomes very well acquainted with Matt's natural state of clumsiness. It's still fairly early in the morning and Matt, like most of the people in the room, still seems half-asleep. Leaning back in her seat, Alex chats to Karen, tentatively getting a feel for the other person she's going to be working closely with. She seems a bit more awake than the rest of the table and by the time Matt stumbles toward them with coffee, they're discussing the magnificence of the Louboutins Alex gets to wear in this episode.

"Personal question," Karen says, holding up a hand and leaning closer. "I've never had the means to own shoes that hot and I must know – do you feel like you're the star of a porno when you wear them?"

Alex laughs, glancing up as Matt approaches with his coffee cup, entirely unaware of the danger. "Those shoes are the epitome of sex, dear. What do you think?"

Karen grins. "Space porno?"

Alex nods once. "Space porno."

Before another word can be uttered between them, Matt trips over seemingly nothing, and in a

spectacular, heretofore unseen show of ungainliness, stumbles into an empty chair, sending his coffee cup flying from his hand and all down the front of Alex's shirt.

The room gasps in unison.

Alex is too stunned to do anything but gape, in shock as hot coffee seeps into her shirt and burns her skin. Pale and horrified, Matt looks as if he would prefer the earth to open up and swallow him whole rather than face what he has just done.

Karen is the first to react, yanking a handful of napkins from her impossibly tiny handbag and lurching across the table, doing her best to soak up the mess. "God, you clumsy oaf! Are you alright, Alex?"

This startles Matt from his stupor and he pitches forward, snatching the napkins from Karen's hand and taking over in her stead, muttering, "Shit, I am so sorry, Alex. I'm such an idiot. Are you okay?"

He blushes furiously, red all the way up to his ears and Alex finds herself nodding, a bit transfixed by the way he scrubs at her shirt. He hasn't noticed that he's stroking her with a napkin, too focused on getting coffee out of her shirt, but she certainly has. Clearing her throat, she says, "Y-yes. I'm fine, darling. No harm done."

Kneeling between her legs, he glances up at with panicked eyes. "Are you sure? Do you need another shirt? You can have mine or -" His hand is still moving of its own accord, though his attention is currently elsewhere but when Karen giggles, he blinks and glances back down. His eyes widen as he realizes he is essentially stroking her breasts with a napkin and he drops the wad of paper in her lap, blushing once more. "S-sorry."

A little breathless, Alex shakes her head. "It's just a shirt, dear. But at least now we know you need a lid for your sippy cup, hm?" Everyone around the table chuckles and Matt ducks his head, sliding from the floor and back into his seat next to her, contrite. Reaching out a hand as an exasperated Steven calls everyone to order, Alex squeezes his arm affectionately. "It's fine, I promise."

He smiles gratefully at her, hands gripping his now empty coffee cup tightly, as if paying attention to it now will make up for his carelessness earlier. Oh, if her heart hadn't already been a melted puddle of goo in her chest, it certainly would be now. He is going to have women falling at his feet, willingly throwing themselves in the line of spilled coffee and flailing limbs, undone by those eyes and that grin. If she weren't twice his age, she might have been one of those women.

As the read-through begins, she watches as he transforms before her very eyes from the adorable, bumbling, nervous man she has encountered so far into someone with the exuberance and wild curiosity of a child, but the wisdom of someone so very, very old.

He is the Doctor.

There is no other way to put it. He was born to play this role, and watching him gesture widely and use the pen he'd snatched from Steven as his sonic screwdriver, she can't help but wonder what he and everyone else seems to be so anxious about. During the last scene between the Doctor and Amy, she leans back in her seat and watches as Matt reads through his last lines, pen tapping rapidly against his script. She glances down at the page and sees his neat scrawl at the bottom. It takes her a moment as she pretends disinterest, but eventually, she manages to read the words 'To be an artist is to fail' and feels her heart clench in her chest.

Oh, this lovely, adorable idiot. He has no faith in his portrayal of the Doctor at all. She can't stand to think of him doubting himself so much and as Steven commends them all for an excellent first table read, she resolves to say something. Around her, everyone begins to gather their things and stand up but she doesn't move. Next to her, Matt blows out a quiet breath and slumps back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

She can feel the tension rolling off him in waves; see it in the tautness of his jaw and the tense line of his shoulders but she waits until the room has emptied before she turns to him and says firmly, "Stop."

He frowns, eyeing her. "Stop what?"

"Worrying."

Scoffing, he closes his script and rolls it up, tapping the end of it against the edge of the table repeatedly. "Kind of difficult with almost fifty years of television on my shoulders and everyone on the internet saying they just want David Tennant back."

Snatching his script, she whacks him over the head with it. "No internet either!"

"Oi!" He complains, gaping at her, and she realizes that she just hit someone over the head that she barely even knows. Strangely, it doesn't feel like that with Matt. She feels comfortable with

him, like she's known him for years.

Embarrassed, she puts his script back on the table and flattens it out again. "It just isn't a good idea, looking yourself up. It's like eavesdropping. You'll never walk away feeling better about yourself."

He nods slowly, watching her with a small smile. "Alright. Stop worrying and no internet. Anything else? Should I be writing these down, Kingston?" He flushes instantly, suddenly the awkward boy she'd met yesterday. "Sorry, I don't know why I called you that. It just felt…right. Sorry, it was stupid -"

"No," she interrupts, shaking her head and smiling. "It's fine. Really."

He ducks his head, hiding a grin. "Okay. It'll be my special name for you, then."

"I've been called worse," she snorts, and he looks up at her then, eyes soft. No one on earth would blame her for ruffling his hair and cuddling him to her right then but she manages to restrain herself. "I have a proposition for you, darling. You could come round to my flat before we start shooting and go over the script with me a few times – away from everyone else." She shrugs. "It might take some of the pressure off."

He beams, face lighting up as he says eagerly, "Oh god, really? That would be brilliant, Alex." He huffs, rubbing the neck of his neck. "It's just difficult not to feel like everyone is judging me and waiting for me to fail."

She frowns. "You really have nothing to worry about, darling. You're fantastic and everyone is going to love you. But if it'll make you feel better, I'm only too happy to help."

"You're the best," he enthuses, shaking his head.

"That's what they all say, honey," she winks and delights in the flush that spreads across his cheeks. "My flat? Seven? It'll give me time to change."

Glancing down at her coffee-stained shirt with an embarrassed flush, he nods. "I'll be there."

He shows up five minutes early, bearing wine.

Opening the door to let him brush past her, Alex sighs, "Drinking and studying?"

He smiles, depositing the bottle on her kitchen counter. "Well you know what they say about all work and no play."

"Makes for a very dull boy?"

"And a crap time."

She rummages through a drawer for something to open the bottle with and turns, handing him the corkscrew. "A man after my own heart."

"Good to know," he says, smiling a little, and she's suddenly struck by how much lighter he is here in her flat, without prying eyes watching his every move. He still looks like he would blush at the slightest innuendo from her but there is something about him now, something freer, that wasn't there before.

Catching herself staring at him, Alex blinks and looks away. "Right. Shall we get started then?"

"Lead the way," he says, and hands her a wine glass.

She takes it from him and his long fingers brush against hers, warm and slender. Her breath catches at the simple touch and she stumbles to recover herself quickly, clearing her throat and tightening her grip on the stem of her glass. "Have you had dinner already?" She asks, leading him into the living room and taking a seat on an armchair.

Matt sprawls across her sofa, digging his script out of his trouser pocket and setting his wine glass on the table. "Does toast count?"

She rolls her eyes. "How are you going to jump about on set and impress the pants off everyone if you don't eat?"

He smirks. "If it's all the same to you, Kingston, I'd prefer everyone to keep their pants on."

"Cheeky sod," she laughs, reaching for her mobile. She calls for a pizza and they eat it right out of the box, sprawled across her living room floor and getting grease stains on their scripts as they read out their lines between mouthfuls of dinner and sips of wine.

It's the most relaxing read through she's ever been a part of and by the time they're finished, she's lying on her stomach with her head resting on her arms, staring at Matt as he finishes his lines and makes a rather bad attempt at Karen's Scottish accent during her parts. She giggles, which only encourages him, and she shakes with laughter the higher his voice gets. God, he's absolutely ridiculous and funny and so bloody talented. She adores him already and she knows everyone else will too.

Slipping off her reading glasses to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes, Alex watches as Matt tosses his script aside and throws himself down on the floor next to her, grinning. He has a nice smile. It lights up his whole face, somehow making him look even younger and carefree. She traces over that young face with her eyes and perhaps it's the wine and Matt's new giddiness making her a bit loopy but staring at him, she suddenly loses sight of the boy and sees only the man.

His hair keeps falling into his eyes and he brushes it back with those impossibly long fingers. She studies his hands, so large and yet somehow delicate, and finds herself wondering what they would feel like sliding over her naked skin. Shocked at her own thoughts, Alex quickly turns her eyes away from him and blinks at the floor. Where had that come from? It's so wrong. Slowly, she raises her eyes to his face again and oh, but his lips are full and red and god, she'd love to see them swollen from kisses.

"Alex?"

She starts, gaze flying up to meet his. "What?"

Warm hazel eyes crinkle in amusement. "I've been talking for the past five minutes and you haven't heard a word of it, have you?" She bites her lip guiltily and he laughs, getting to his feet and stretching.

His t-shirt rides up and she stares unrepentantly at the pale sliver of his stomach revealed, swallowing hard. He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, letting him help her up and secretly delighting in the feel of his warm fingers wrapped around her own. "I'm sorry, darling. I must be more knackered than I realized."

"It's fine," he says, smiling. "I'm pretty shattered too. See you tomorrow?"

"Right. Yes." She nods, trying not to be distracted by lovely white teeth and what they might feel like sinking into her inner thigh. "Goodnight, dear." She walks him to the door and realizes just how bloody tall and lanky he is. She's always been fond of taller men but he is a new species entirely.

"Thanks so much for going over the script with me in private," he says, lingering in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "I really appreciate it, Alex."

Smiling up at him, she lays a hand on his arm and watches his eyes widen like she'd just given him an electric shock. Startling him into blushing like that should not be so appealing. "It was no trouble at all, darling. Get some rest."

He nods, offering a small wave, suddenly shy once again. "Night."

Alex shuts the door behind him and leans against it, pressing her thighs together with a small whimper. What is he doing to her? Yesterday she'd wanted to cuddle him and feed him soup and now, she's staring full-blown lust in the face and glimpsing the urge to mother in the rearview mirror. How is she supposed to work with someone she wants to climb like a tree? She's supposed to be here to support him and make him feel comfortable, not molest him. But, oh god, how she'd like to. He probably looks absolutely delicious when properly ravished. That floppy brown hair mussed and tangled, those hazel eyes dark and sleepy, and a red flush on those stupidly high cheekbones…

Knickers damp and stomach fluttering, Alex closes her eyes and groans.

there's a hole in you and me that pulls us together

Chapter Summary

His redheaded costar is long-legged, absolutely gorgeous and his own age but he doesn't follow her about with his tongue hanging out the way he seems to with Alex. And she isn't oblivious – the boy is practically salivating.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Bad Sun by The Bravery. Happy Valentine's Day, bitches!

They start filming the next day and Alex spends hours on the beach in a ballgown, playing the Mrs. Robinson to Matt's Doctor when the cameras are rolling. When they aren't, she bundles herself up in a coat, hides her hair under a cap and warms her hands on a hot water bottle she's sharing with Karen. The girl is absolutely lovely and Alex can tell she's going to be just as fantastic as Matt. They have so much ahead of them – both good and bad – and they have no idea. She wishes she could warn them, but she has a feeling there are just some things they'll have to find out for themselves.

She'd been worried that the chemistry between her and Matt would be nonexistent considering their age different but she has never been so glad to be proven wrong. It's so much fun flirting with him in front of a camera that she finds it difficult to turn off when they aren't filming. And as Matt blushes at her every innuendo and even fires some of his own back at her, she finds that she doesn't want to stop. She feels a secret thrill every time he blushes because of something she says or whenever she lets her hand linger on his arm or his chest just a little too long. It's an intoxicating rush and she's loath to give it up.

Matt doesn't seem to mind either, stumbling over rocks on the beach as he follows her around between takes. His redheaded costar is long-legged, absolutely gorgeous and his own age but he doesn't follow her about with his tongue hanging out the way he seems to with Alex. And she isn't oblivious – the boy is practically salivating. She just doesn't know why. Perhaps he has a thing for older women. In any case, she's willing to indulge for both their sakes. She knows it's stupid and reckless and he's just a bit awestruck because he probably watched Moll Flanders as a teenager or something and the moment he realizes she doesn't look like that anymore, he'll lose all interest. But that doesn't mean she can't imagine shagging him senseless in the meantime.

It should feel weird considering how motherly she'd felt toward him at first but she'd seen last night just how attractive the man is and she can't just unsee it. There is no going back to that innocent affection. She finds herself seeking him out between takes. He sits on a rock by the shore

during a break and she settles next to him, gathering up her skirts so she doesn't get them wet and pushing the toes of her Uggs into the sand.

Matt puts away the sonic screwdriver he'd been fiddling with and gives her a smile. "Missing me already?"

She rolls her eyes, leaning helplessly toward the warmth he emanates like a furnace. "Hardly. You've just got the best seat in the house."

He glances up, sees Karen hopping from rock to rock along the shore, arms flailing to keep her balance, and snorts. "Five pounds says she falls in."

Alex elbows him, laughing. "You should be over there. Bonding with your new costar."

"I am bonding with my costar."

Ignoring the pleased little shiver that tingles up her spine, Alex shakes her head. "I'm not your costar."

Matt shrugs. "You sort of are."

"You know what I mean." She nudges him again. "You're going to be spending a lot of time together, dear. You should get to know each other a bit more. It'll certainly help your chemistry on the show."

"We are bonding," he insists, turning away from Karen's flailing to give her an innocent look. "We've decided to have dinner tomorrow."

She raises an eyebrow, refusing to acknowledge the way her stomach drops in disappointment. "Oh? How cozy."

He wrinkles his nose. "Not like that!"

"Why not like that?"

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "She's not my type."

"You have a type?" She teases, watching him blush. "Do tell, darling."

"Curvier, if you must know," he huffs, and her heart stutters. "And… blonder."

Licking her lips, she asks lightly, "So Marilyn Monroe then?"

He snorts, watching her with soft eyes. "Something like that."

The wind around them picks up, ruffling her skirts and biting through her coat, chilling her. Matt notices her shiver and almost hesitantly wraps an arm around her shoulders, instantly filling her with warmth, whether just from how close he is or his body heat, she isn't sure, but it doesn't matter and she lets out a quiet moan, curling into his side and burying her face in his shoulder. "God, you're so much better than a hot water bottle."

She feels Matt grin into her hair, and his fingers curl tighter around her shoulder.

At the end of the day, she's drenched from the rain, there's sand in her hair and her feet ache. She leaves everyone else as quickly as she can and heads up to her flat, drawing herself a warm bath. She pins her hair up haphazardly, sheds her clothes and sinks into the water with a contented sigh, letting it warm her bones and soothe her tired mind.

For a while, she's content to merely soak, her eyes shut and the scent of lavender bath oil all around her. It doesn't take long before her thoughts begin to drift back to today, her first day filming with Matt – who is just as brilliant as she'd told him he would be. She thinks of that ridiculous mop of hair continuously falling into his eyes and the way he'd pushed it back each and every time with those long, talented-looking fingers. She thinks of those same fingers pressing into her shoulder as she'd burrowed into him for warmth on the beach, the way his mouth had brushed against her temple as he smiled. And god, he smelled so bloody good. Like tweed and soap and sand. On its own, it's an odd combination, but on Matt it had been like a sodding aphrodisiac.

Biting her lip against a moan, Alex sinks a little further into the water and tells herself there's nothing wrong with what she'd doing as she slides her hand over her breasts and down her stomach, toward the damp patch of curls between her legs. But oh, who is she kidding. Half of why it's such a turn on is how utterly filthy it is – thinking of that darling baby face between her thighs, how beautifully he'd blush as she rutted against his mouth.

Biting her lip against a groan, she slips her fingers through her slick folds and lightly pinches her clit before finding her entrance and rubbing there with three fingers. Letting her head fall back to rest against the lip of the tub, she closes her eyes and draws her legs up and out of the water, draping them over the sides of the tub and spreading herself wider.

She slips one finger inside herself and releases a little sigh as her body flutters and clenches around the intrusion. Rubbing circles over her clit, she pictures Matt's long, slender hands and pushes another finger inside. She draws them out and then pushes back in again, curling them as she imagines the heat of his thin frame over hers, his hot breath on her neck and words of encouragement murmured in that low growl of a voice.

Moaning, Alex rolls her hips, riding her fingers and pressing down hard on her clit with her thumb. Lightly trailing the tips of her fingers over her neck and down her chest, she pretends it's his wonderful tongue tracing over her clavicle, licking between her breasts, that hot mouth drawing a nipple in and sucking until her eyes roll back in her head. Her sex tightens around her fingers and Alex whinges as water laps at the sides of the tub. God, she's so close. She just wants him to touch her, wants to get his cock inside her and watch him blush down to his toes as she rides him.

She's so wet now her fingers slide in and out of her easily, her sex as fluid as the water sloshing around her. Pressing deeper, she feels her orgasm cresting up to meet her with every undulation of her hips and she presses her fingers harder inside, twisting them viciously as her walls clamp down. She gasps for air, her breaths coming in ragged pants as she pushes herself higher and higher. She thinks of those hazel eyes, that deliciously innocent grin and oh god –

Thump, thump, thump.

Eyes flying open, Alex pauses, her whole body on fire as she listens.

Thump, thump.

It takes her a moment in the state she's in but when the realization that someone is knocking on her door finally sinks in, she lets out a frustrated noise dangerously close to a sob and slides her

fingers from her throbbing core. She washes them off in the water and leaps from the tub, grabbing her nightgown and pulling it on over her head without bothering to dry off. She leaves the bathroom and heads down the hallway with a horrible ache between her thighs, silently hating whoever had interrupted her when she'd been right on the edge. Granted, it would have been one of those orgasms that left her feeling guilty, dirty and utterly lonely but by god she had been looking forward to it.

Swinging her door open, she finds herself staring at Matt, who looks her up and down – her white nightgown clinging to her damp skin and her hair in a disarrayed updo – and beams, holding up a bottle of wine. "Hello. Sorry I didn't call but I thought you might like a nightcap." He looks unsure when she just stares at him. "Was I interrupting something?"

She fights back a snort. "Just a bath." She stands back to let him in with a sigh. "Come in, darling. You know where the glasses are."

He hesitates. "Are you sure? I could just go."

"You'll do no such thing," she says, taking him by the elbow and leading him inside because really, it isn't his fault he'd interrupted her in the middle of her filthy thoughts about him.

"All right, no need to be so pushy, Kingston. Desperate for my company?" He grins and she shoves at him, listening to his giggle.

They sit on her sofa and sip their wine for a while, Matt talking about the hectic first day of filming they'd had and how much fun it had been while Alex bites her lip and watches him with a growing ache between her thighs. She'd been so close before that there is no getting her mind to turn away from thoughts of her suspended release and now the object of her frustration is sitting right in front of her with no idea how utterly fuckable he looks.

He keeps licking his lips while he talks and she stares at his tongue, wanting to lean forward and suck it into her mouth. "I still can't quite believe I'm actually getting the chance to work with you."

She just manages to stop staring at his mouth, imagining it somewhere else, long enough to pay attention and wonder when the conversation had been steered in this direction – probably while she was thinking about other places he could put his tongue. "That's very sweet of you, honey, but I'm hardly worth getting starstruck over. I'm sure you'll end up working with actors much more famous than I am."

Frowning, he shakes his head, glancing down at the wine in his glass. "I doubt that. You're amazing, Alex. Funny and gorgeous and so bloody talented. If you could have heard the talk around set when everyone knew you were coming back – they're all a bit in love with you, honestly."

The throbbing between her thighs is almost unbearable now as she listens to him talk about her like she's a bloody saint. It would be easy to push him back onto the cushions and show him how very wrong he is – to shatter all his illusions about her and his youthful naïveté all at once. Clearing her throat, she says, "And what about you, darling? What do you think?"

He gives her a small smile and answers honestly, "You scare the hell out of me."

As he takes a swig of his wine, Alex watches his throat flex as he swallows and bites down hard on her lip. "Well that's unfortunate," she says, deliberately crossing her legs to make her nightgown ride up her thighs. His gaze is drawn to her bare skin instantly, eyes dark. "I've always felt quite at home around you."

He slowly raises his eyes from her legs up to her face, watching her in silence for a moment. And then he puts aside his wine glass with an air of determination, scooting a little closer to her. Alex doesn't move, her whole body still screaming for release. If she moves, she might not be able to stop herself from jumping him.

But it turns out she needn't have worried.

Matt closes the distance between them all by himself and kisses her. Already on edge because of his interruption earlier, she is set alight at the touch of his mouth over hers. Those full lips are warm and soft against her own and yes he's almost twenty years younger than her, yes she's supposed to be mentoring him and yes she'll probably wind up regretting this but as he slips his tongue past her lips and delves inside her mouth, she doesn't fight it. She welcomes it.

With a moan, she wraps her arms around his neck and closes the distance between their bodies, straddling his lap and pressing her chest against his, kissing him back fervently. He tastes of wine and innocence, like a mouthful of sin. Alex fists her hands in his hair, already drunk. He clutches her to him, mouth harsh and eager against her own, and she feels another trickle of pure heat flood through her. She has to have him – now.

Pulling away to nip at his jaw while Matt pants harshly into her hair, Alex reaches for the button on his trousers and feels him jump in surprise. She soothes a particularly vicious bite with a stroke of her tongue and grins, undoing the zip and reaching inside his pants to find him already half-hard.

His grip on her hips turns bruising. "Jesus Christ," he whimpers, and she wraps a hand around his length, stroking up and down until he's hot and heavy in her palm. Moving to his mouth again, she brushes her lips over his once, twice, drawing him into her like a siren with her song. He follows her lips as she moves backward and she kisses him, opening under him as he finally comes out of that shy little shell of his. His hands roam her body with impatience – over her hips, her waist, brushing the sides of her breasts with his thumbs, until he finally buries them in her hair, yanking out her hairclip and tossing it aside.

Scooting backward with one hand still wrapped around his cock, Alex presses her other hand to the back of his neck and pulls him down on top of her, sighing at the weight of his body against her. She fumbles between them for the hem of her nightgown, smiling into their kiss when he moves to help her. When his fingers come into contact with her slick flesh, she tosses her head back with a moan, as he whispers, "No knickers? God, you're going to kill me."

She lifts her hips impatiently – she'd had her foreplay earlier and now she just wants to be fucked. Unfortunately, Matt seems intent on taking his time, sliding his fingers through her wetness and mouthing at her neck, murmuring about how soaked she is. He's not even trying to talk dirty, he's just observing , his tone innocent and oblivious to the fact that the sound of his voice in her ear is like throwing gasoline on a fire. Any moment now, she's going to explode. Tossing her head to the side in frustration, she growls, "Yes, I know, darling. Care to do something about it?"

Flushed and trembling, he pulls a condom out of his wallet and when his hands prove unsteady, she puts it on for him, licking at his neck and feeling him shiver above her. With her nightgown bunched around her waist, Alex lies back as he shifts his hips and pushes into her and fuck she is so stretched and deliciously full that if he moves even an inch more inside her she's going to come before they've started. She feels raw - like a livewire, sparking and sputtering with light beneath his fingertips.

When Matt starts to thrust, panting and grunting into her neck, one of those wonderfully large palms kneading her breast through her nightgown, Alex feels helpless to do anything but moan and sigh, hitching a leg around his narrow waist. He hasn't even undressed, his t-shirt still on and his jeans and pants around his knees but she doesn't care.

His hips stutter unevenly already, his cries into her neck increasingly desperate and she knows it isn't going to take long for him. Taking his hand from her breast, she guides it between her legs. "God, yes." He sighs against her ear, hips moving furiously. "Show me. Show me what you want, love."

He presses against her clit but it isn't quite hard enough and she pushes his fingers against her more roughly. He follows her silent instructions quickly, fingers pressing higher and harder until she gasps out loud, scrabbling at his back. Christ, his technique isn't even anything spectacular but

it's shy, bumbling Matt moving hot and hard inside her, sending stabs of heat through her body with every thrust of his hips and his thumb slicking over her clit – oh yes there.

Alex comes with a shout, dragging his mouth down to hers as her cunt tightens and flutters around him and Matt kisses her hard. His hips are fast losing their rhythm and the moment she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip and tugs, he lets out a muffled cry and stills against her, collapsing against her chest.

She takes a moment to catch her breath, shutting her eyes to the ceiling and relishing the warm, tingling, satiated feeling that steals over her in these quiet moments after. In a moment, the guilt and shame will find her, but right now, she is flying far too high for any of it to touch her. At the brush of soft, gentle lips against her neck, Alex opens her eyes to find Matt smiling at her, looking adorably satisfied and shy.

Stretching languidly, she pets his hair and listens to him hum. The sex had been good – mostly because it was him and she'd already been so wound up – but not exactly mind-blowing. But Matt had shown an eagerness and willingness to learn that she finds refreshing. Most men she has been with don't take direction well, which can be tedious, but Matt seems to welcome it. He wants to be better, wants to please her. He's pretty amazing all on his own, if perhaps a bit fumbling. With more experience though…

Alex shivers and Matt wraps an arm around her, kissing her breast.

She could make it so that whoever has him next will want to write her a letter of thanks and whoever he is with after her will never be quite good enough. She could ruin him, if she

wanted. Glancing down at Matt, she finds him watching her, bright-eyed and affectionate, his hair mussed and a hickey forming on his neck. She was right before. He is beautiful when ravished. This boy is clay in her hands, ready to be molded into something magnificent. He is a challenge waiting to be met, a pupil eager for a lesson.

And she has always had a knack for teaching.

tie your hands and demand a salute

Chapter Summary

It's been almost twelve hours since he stumbled out of her flat and across the hall into his own, barely dressed with his hair all over the place and a stupidly satisfied grin on his face. And now he can't stop looking at her.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Mercy by Matt Nathanson.

Matt walks around the next day in a hazy, dreamlike state, grinning like an idiot and following Alex with his eyes wherever she goes. They had actually – and she… He still can't quite believe it. To be honest, the whole thing is a bit of a blur. He just remembers her looking so beautiful – all that hair piled on top of her head and a few ringlets framing her face, that white nightgown damp and a little see-through from her bathwater, and those lovely, milky thighs. He couldn't help it, didn't know one man on earth who wouldn't have been tempted. So he kissed her. He'd expected a gasp of indignation, a slap, anything other than the enthusiastic response he'd gotten. Christ, she'd been everywhere, all over and all around him, like some passionate, omnipresent entity. He can still feel her under his hands.

It's been almost twelve hours since he stumbled out of her flat and across the hall into his own, barely dressed with his hair all over the place and a stupidly satisfied grin on his face. And now he can't stop looking at her. Alex seems to be doing a much better job of keeping her eyes to herself but that's to be expected. She's a professional and she won't let something like an offset romance throw her off balance. Matt knows he should be following her example but how he can he not wait impatiently for the next wink she decides to throw his way or stop watching the way her curls bounce when she laughs?

But he also doesn't want to let everyone know just by the look on his face that he'd shagged his costar last night and has very high hopes of doing so again in the near future, so in between watching Alex, he tries to do his job. It's just terribly difficult to focus when he can't stop remembering her hands on his back, one of those shapely legs locked around his waist and the way she'd guided his hand between her thighs, an unholy light in her eyes as he'd touched her.

He shivers.

Karen nudges him and Alex looks up. "Not cold are you? I told you to bring your hot water

bottle." She clutches hers to her chest. "You're not getting mine, Smith."

Smiling a little – Karen has been much more outspoken with him since he had to bite her hand earlier – Matt shakes his head. "I was just thinking."

She raises an eyebrow. "What are you thinking that would cause a full-bodied shiver?" Her eyes light up and her grin turns manic. "Oh my god, are you blushing?" She reaches out a hand to poke at his face. "You are."

Feeling his cheeks redden further, Matt shoves her hand away and avoids Alex's knowing gaze. "Shut up, I do not blush."

"You're a walking poster boy for shame, Smith," she says. "Don't make me sic Alex on you. She'll get you to talk."

He sputters, choking, but Alex doesn't even flinch. "Yes, darling. Don't make me spank you."

His face must be the color of a tomato but the words conjure some pretty fantastic images and he licks his lips, tugging his jacket tighter around himself to hide any reaction he might have. Alex must see the interest in his eyes because she arches an eyebrow and narrows her gaze, as if actually contemplating it. Swallowing hard, he glances away quickly and says, "Oh look, they're ready for us. Shall we?"

Karen huffs. "Fine, don't share. I probably don't want to know anyway."

As she wanders off with a wrinkled nose, Matt mutters, "Was that really necessary?"

Tucking her hot water bottle underneath her chin, Alex looks up at him through her lashes. "I don't know, darling. Are you feeling naughty? Should I get the riding crop?"

He can't stop the unconscious twitching of his hand as he moves to reach for her but her eyes widen and he remembers where they are. Curling his hand into a fist at his side, he asks quietly, "Am I going to see you tonight?"

She hesitates. "I don't know."

"You don't…" He trails off, confused.

Alex glances away. "I haven't decided yet."

Oh.

He should have expected this, really. Just because he's been head over heels since the moment he laid eyes on her certainly doesn't mean Alex feels the same way. Alright, yes, she's been sending him those looks all day but from what he's seen of Alex so far, she seems to be a naturally flirtatious person and he'd been stupid to think it had anything to do with him in particular. She'd seemed to enjoy herself last night and while he hadn't expected it to be just a one-off, that have might been stupidly naïve of him. She's Alex Kingston for god's sake. What would she want with him anyway?

Clearing her throat and drawing him from his thoughts, Alex gathers her skirts in her hand and avoids his eyes, muttering, "Excuse me, dear, I think I'll just go have my hair touched up before the next scene."

He nods, not even seeing her as she walks away, traipsing along the beach in those boots. Remembering the way her chest had heaved beneath his ear and those gentle fingers in his hair, Matt shakes his head.

It wouldn't have worked out anyway.

He goes to dinner with Karen that night and it helps get his mind off things for a while. He focuses on getting to know the girl he's going to be working with for the foreseeable future and finds that while she's a bit mad, she's also funny and oddly charming. They have a nice time together and he's hoping they'll be pretty good mates before long. But the moment he's back in his flat, his thoughts return to Alex. He grabs a beer from the fridge and kicks off his shoes, heaving a heavy sigh as he drops onto the sofa and prepares to spend a few hours feeling sorry for himself.

Will I see you tonight?

He scoffs and buries his face in the sofa cushion, mortified. God, he's an idiot.

As if someone like Alex would waste her time with someone like him. She's older, more experienced, stunningly gorgeous – there are probably hoards of men begging for her attention and he actually thought she'd bestow all of hers on him? Getting to his feet – he has a feeling he's going to need the whole case of beer to get over the humiliation of today – he stops in his tracks at a soft but firm knock on the door. His heart leaps into his throat but he doesn't dare hope even as he slides in his socks in his haste to answer it. It's probably just Karen or –

"Alex."

He blinks in surprise as she pushes him hurriedly into his flat and shuts the door behind them. It only takes a moment to register that she's wearing a robe and carrying a box and something shiny that he only catches a glimpse of before she's shoving him backwards and all his attention is suddenly focused elsewhere. Smiling, he reaches for her but she dances out of his grasp, pushing at his chest. He stumbles backwards, letting her take the lead as he says, "I thought you said -"

"I changed my mind," she answers simply, and pushes him all the way down the hall and into his bedroom. Not that he's complaining.

She gives him one last surprisingly strong shove and he falls backwards onto the bed. Scrambling to sit up as she crawls up the mattress after him, Matt pulls his t-shirt over his head and reaches for her again, wanting nothing but to touch her and kiss her and bask in the relief because she does want him. But he's rebuffed once again and this time, he gets a very good look at the shiny thing she'd been carrying earlier just before she pulls his hands above his head and handcuffs him to his own bed.

As he stares at her in shock, feeling the cold metal against his wrists and ashamed to admit how utterly sexy he finds this whole thing, Alex tugs his trousers and pants down his legs and off, leaning back to admire her work thus far, giving a small, satisfied nod. She towers over him on her knees, untying her robe and sliding it off her shoulders. It lands in a pool of silk at the foot of his bed but he isn't paying any attention because she hadn't been wearing anything underneath.

God, she is just as beautiful as he knew she'd be – soft curves, pale skin and full, gorgeous breasts tipped with pert, dusky nipples begging to be sucked. His mouth waters and he's hard instantly. Without thinking, he moves to touch her. Alex smirks and the handcuffs bite into his skin as a harsh reminder.

He is at her mercy.

Swallowing, he asks, "Is this the part where you have your wicked way with me? Because I have to say, the handcuffs aren't necessary. I'm very willing."

Her smirk widens and she reaches for the box next to her on the bed. "No, this is the part where you watch."

Watch?

She straddles his chest, fondling her own breast with a soft moan. She looks right into his eyes as she pinches her nipple and rolls it between her fingers until it's hard and pebbled. It's like the best wet dream he's ever had except she's real and right in front of him. And he can't touch her.

With a little sigh, she trails her hand down her stomach and into the nest of curls between her legs. He has a front row view as she slides her fingers over her pink, glistening folds, teasing herself with soft strokes. "Mm," she shivers a little, small fingers circling over her clit. "I'm so wet, darling."

Oh, he knows. He can smell her arousal, see it slicking her fingers and dampening her thighs.

"Jesus Christ," he groans, watching her lean back and slide two fingers easily into herself.

As she begins to pump them in and out, thumb pressing into her clit, she reaches for her breast again, kneading it roughly and tossing her head back. Her hips rock in time with her thrusts and she makes these soft, whimpering noises that tell him she is enjoying herself immensely. He knows the feeling. And then she stops, pulling her fingers from her body and panting as she reaches for the box at her side.

He frowns, puzzled, until she opens the box and pulls out a vibrator. "I have others but this is my favorite." She touches the tips of her fingers lightly to the little rabbit ears. "The clitoral stimulation is amazing."

He shifts uncomfortably but says nothing, unable to see or think about anything but Alex lying alone in her bed and using this thing on herself. She turns it on and it begins to buzz in her hand. She runs her fingers over it lightly and then touches it to her clit, crying out. Shifting her hips, she positions the toy at her entrance.

"I don't think it'll compare to you, darling," she says breathlessly. "But you're a bit tied up at the moment."

Whimpering as she slides it into her cunt, Matt watches her lips stretch around the invasion, pulling it inside and adjusting quickly to its size. "Oh god, Alex," he says, straining against the handcuffs and getting nowhere. "Let me touch you. Please."

Ignoring him, Alex spreads her legs a little wider and leans back against his chest, letting him see as she works the vibrator inside her over and over again. The only sounds in the room are its faint buzzing, Alex's soft moans and Matt's harsh breathing. God, he just wants her. He wants to touch her so badly he can't stand it; he'll go out of his mind if she doesn't release him from these bloody cuffs and let him run his hands over her.

Panting, Alex reaches out a hand and grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up to look at her, a hint of desperation in her eyes. "Talk to me, darling."

He's never been very talented at dirty talk but right now, she could ask him to jump in front of a bus and he'd trip over his own feet in his haste to do it for her. As her hips undulate and the toy buzzes, he's nearly babbling, "Please let me touch you. I'll do anything, please. Oh god, I can smell you and it's making my mouth water."

Alex moans, tossing her head back and moving the toy faster. "More."

He licks his dry lips, trying to focus less on the raging erection between his legs and the urge to touch her and focus more on getting Alex to her release. "God, look at you. You're taking it so well, you naughty girl. Does it feel good, fucking yourself right in front of me?" Her breath hitches, the movement of her hips stuttering. "So gorgeous. I want you so bloody badly, Alex. Can't wait to be inside you again – it's all I've thought about all day - "

Before he can utter another word, Alex's fall shut and her mouth drops open as she cries out, coming hard. He watches greedily as her sex spasms rhythmically around the vibrator, utterly mesmerized by the sight of her. When the tremors stop, she pulls it out gingerly, tossing it aside with a moan.

Wrists aching from straining against the handcuffs and erection bordering on painful, Matt bites his lip as Alex tries to catch her breath. "Was that alright? I don't usually talk during -"

Alex cuts him off with a sexy little chuckle, bending her head to press an open-mouthed kiss to his chest. "That was perfect, dear."

Shifting about in an attempt to alleviate some of the pressure between his legs, Matt bites back a groan as she nips at his abdomen with her teeth. "Can you uncuff me now?"

Without looking up, she shakes her head, the ends of her hair brushing his stomach and god that feels amazing. "Can't, sorry."

"Why not?"

She smiles wickedly against his skin. "Because I'm going to be far too busy down here to bother with those all the way up there."

He swallows as she presses a kiss to the tip of his erection. "Right," he rasps. "Carry on then."

"Oh, I intend to," she murmurs, and takes him into her mouth.

Gasping, Matt curls his hands into the sheets and strains to keep from thrusting up and gagging her. Her mouth is hot and wet around him and she just keeps taking him in over and over again and oh god maybe gagging her isn't really something he should be concerned with. Hands tight on his thighs and eyes shut, Alex works her mouth over him with an air that says she can't think of anything else she'd rather be doing. She's so intent on him, groaning a bit as she takes him all the way down her throat –

"Fuck," he hisses, and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of something else, anything else. He just wants this to last forever.

As if reading his mind and delighting in being contradictory, Alex releases him from her mouth and the cool air of his bedroom hits his throbbing cock, slick with her saliva. Matt whimpers, nearly writhing with the need to feel her around him again. Mouth swollen and red, she watches him with sparkling eyes and when she reaches for the toy beside them on the bed, it takes him a moment to wonder what she's up to, too busy thinking about how much he wants to kiss those delectable lips of hers. He doesn't register what she's doing until he hears the low humming of the vibrator and then it's being pressed against his testicles. His hips nearly fly off the mattress as he cries out, gasping up at the ceiling in open-mouthed pleasure.

"Jesus Christ," he swears, turning his face into his pillow and choking on a sob as Alex chuckles, a low, throaty sound that makes his need to come even more imperative.

"I've been thinking," she says, tone light and conversational, as if she doesn't have him handcuffed to his bed with her vibrator against his balls. "If we're going to do this, darling, I need you to agree to something."

Biting his lip so hard he expects blood to fill his mouth, Matt watches her with wide, glassy eyes, willing to agree to just about anything.

Alex smiles, predatory as a cat in the jungle. "I'm in charge."

He nods frantically as she presses a button on her vibrator and the buzzing grows more persistent. "Yes," he spits out, thrusting up into the air with a groan. "God, yes, whatever you want. Just please -"

Apparently satisfied, she bends over him again, her hair brushing his thighs as she takes him back into her lovely, glorious mouth. The combination of the buzzing against his testicles and the warm wetness of Alex's mouth is too much and the moment she grazes her teeth over him – a light, barely there pressure that shouldn't be so hot – Matt comes with a strangled shout, hands white-knuckled in the sheets and toes curled as Alex swallows around his twitching cock.

For a moment, he closes his eyes and sees nothing but blinding white, quite certain he has gone blind and maybe deaf too. Until he hears Alex hum contentedly and feels her slither up his body, curling around him and pressing her lips to his neck. "You're so pliable, darling," she murmurs, smiling. "I think I'm going to like this."

some kind of dark sorcerer

Chapter Summary

His fingers dig into her arse and he curls his tongue around her own in a way that makes her moan. She can't help but let her mind wander; thinking of all the other ways that skillful mouth of his could please her.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Ok Go's WTF. Shorter chapter but I'll update again soon!

Kissing Matt is like nothing else she has ever experienced. Never before has she felt so worshipped. All he has to do is press his lips firmly against hers, curl his tongue around her own with determination and give that soft little whinge of contentment and she's a goner. On the sofa in her flat, arms around his neck as she straddles him, Alex is in a position of dominance but his mouth is lulling her into submission, like a snake charmer and his flute. Beneath her, Matt slips his hand under her shirt and draws lazy circles on the small of her back. She shivers and kisses him just a bit harder. It's intoxicating, this feeling of being the center of all of his focus.

They've been sitting on her sofa snogging since they stumbled through the door together half an hour ago and though the buildup is more gradual than she's used to, she's thoroughly enjoying herself. It's been a long time since she kissed someone just for the hell of it – this languid, hot, passionate snogging. She feels like a teenager again.

She rather loves it.

His tongue licks at her teeth, the roof of her mouth. He nips at her bottom lip, his hand sliding out from her shirt to let his fingers sneak beneath the waistband of her trousers, and he squeezes a handful of her bare arse, tugging her closer. She feels his erection through his jeans and gasps, holding his face in her hands and kissing him harder. It's a slow burn that says eventually, she'll make him lie back and take what she wants, but right now, she's content to make those lips of his just as swollen as he's currently making a very different part of her.

Just thinking about it, Alex sighs into his mouth and grinds her hips down against him. Matt groans, shifting to meet her thrust without breaking their kiss. God, she loves his mouth. He may need some practice in other areas but when it comes to snogging, the man requires no lessons.

Growing tired of their lazy buildup; Alex grasps the hem of his t-shirt and lifts it over his head, her hands immediately moving to his chest as his mouth hurriedly finds hers again. She trails her fingers over his chest and stomach, feeling his muscles tremble under her touch. His fingers dig into her arse and he curls his tongue around her own in a way that makes her moan. She can't help but let her mind wander; thinking of all the other ways that skillful mouth of his could please her.

Perhaps it's time to see what this boy can do.

Breaking their kiss and letting Matt rest his forehead lightly against hers, panting, Alex strokes her fingers over his chest and tries not to focus on the ache between her legs. "Bedroom," she says, admiring the way his eyes darken and his cheeks flush. "I want your mouth on me."

He follows her down the hall without a word, watching her undress and toss her clothes onto a chair in the corner. She beckons him closer, pulling him with her onto the bed and placing one last lingering kiss to his lips before spreading her legs and pushing him down. He goes willingly enough but she can sense his trepidation and frowns. "Have you ever done this before?"

"A few times." He looks about as shy as the day she met him and Alex vows that one day, she'll break that little boy persona until there's nothing left but confidence in his own sexuality. "Wouldn't consider myself an expert, though. Are you sure you wouldn't rather I used my fingers or -"

"No," she says quickly, then hesitates before deciding that in this case, honesty is the best confidence booster. "I like your mouth."

He grins at her, fingers stroking over the tops of her thighs, but still looks unsure.

"Unless you have some aversion to doing this -"

His eyes widen and his hands are on her knees in an instant, keeping her from closing her legs. "No! I want to, I -" He licks his lips. "I want to taste you. I'm just afraid I'm rubbish."

His unwillingness to disappoint is adorable and Alex feels a new rush of heat spread through her abdomen. "I somehow doubt that," she says wryly. "But don't worry, darling. I can instruct you."

His face lights up and his pupils dilate, as if he considers the idea of her talking him through it the

sexiest thing he's ever heard. Oh, she knew she'd taken him to bed for a reason. Without further preamble, he ducks his head and drapes her legs over his shoulders. He licks at the crease of her thigh and then looks up at her when she squirms, grinning.

She tries to glare at him but there is something about that bashful young face between her thighs, looking so eager, that is unbearably sexy. He continues to tease her, inhaling her scent, his breath hot on her oversensitive, slick sex. He nips at her inner thigh and she moans, digging her heel into his shoulder blade. "Matthew."

He blinks up at her innocently. "Yes?"

She huffs. "If you don't put your mouth on me, so help me -"

"Is that a threat, Ms. Kingston?"

"It's an order," she says through gritted teeth.

To his credit, Matt follows orders with all the grace of a soldier obeying his senior officer. He licks a long stripe up the length of her sex and they both groan. Encouraged by the noise, he settles his hands on her thighs and sets to work like a hungry boy at the dinner table, all enthusiasm.

Alex tries to talk through her ragged moans because even without much experience, his mouth is still a bloody gift from God. Hand clenched in his hair, she gasps out, "Slower, take your time." Immediately, the strokes of his tongue slow, becoming more languid, like the kisses they'd shared on the sofa. She whimpers. "Not too hard. Use the flat of your tongue, darling. Oh god, yes, like that."

Panting, she watches his head move between her legs and struggles to keep her eyes open. His tongue is wet and warm and oh so precise as he laps at her, savoring the taste of her like she's an expensive dessert he may never get the chance to try again. Unable to stop herself, Alex rocks against his mouth, eyelids fluttering.

Pleased, Matt hums against her and slides his tongue into her cunt, twisting and stroking it against her silken walls like he's trying to map her from the inside out. Alex cries out, rutting against his ministrations desperately. She's dripping wet and overcome with the need to flood that delicious mouth with her release.

"My clit. Oh god, suck on my -" She yelps, hands scrabbling at the sheets as he suckles on the swollen nub, moving his long fingers to her entrance and sliding two inside her easily. "Matthew, yes!"

Oh, he takes direction so well.

He crooks his fingers inside her just right, mouth sealed around her clit, and Alex screams at the ceiling, closing her thighs around his head to hold him in place as she comes, her whole body quivering. Matt doesn't seem to mind, his hands tight on her hips as he continues to lap at her through her orgasm, prolonging it as much as possible. When she's too sensitive to handle his tongue any longer, Alex lets her thighs fall open and tugs on his hair. Matt moves from her sex, pressing kisses to her inner thigh instead.

Finally, he raises his head to look at her, lips and chin slick with the evidence of her arousal. He looks hopeful, as if asking her to tell him he'd pleased her and Alex whimpers, tugging him to her by his hair. He settles between her legs as she pulls him into a fierce kiss, licking the wetness from his mouth and chin, snogging him until the bitter tang of herself disappears from his mouth and all she can taste is him again.

When she releases him, she finally notices his erection prodding at her hip, but Matt doesn't seem to be paying any mind, smiling down at her. "So that was alright?"

Alex starts to nod, then adds with a smirk, "Well, there's always room for improvement."

His mouth moves to her breast as he mumbles, "I'm ever under your tutelage, Ms. Kingston."

it makes you blind, it does you in

Chapter Summary

It isn't unusual for Alex to visit him in the middle of the night and Matt always loves it when she crawls into bed beside him and they caress each other in the dark. But this time is different.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Love Is Like A Bottle of Gin by the Magnetic Fields.

It isn't unusual for Alex to visit him in the middle of the night and Matt always loves it when she crawls into bed beside him and they caress each other in the dark. But this time is different. She strips him naked and makes him lie down, tying a silk scarf around his head as a blindfold. He can't see a thing, but he can hear the rustling of the sheets as she moves and smell that aroma of jasmine that seems to follow her wherever she goes. It's odd, no matter how sweaty they get, no matter how sex positively permeates the room; he can still bury his face in her neck and smell jasmine.

Every sense is heightened now and he sucks in a quiet breath as he feels Alex straddle his legs and bend over him, the ends of her hair tickling his thighs. He bites his lip to hold back a whimper of anticipation but she does nothing but breathe over him, her hot breath making him impossibly harder. He can practically feel her staring at him and he can't help but wonder if she sees him the way he sees himself – a blind, desperate fool ever eager for her touch.

She doesn't speak, depriving him of not only the sight of her but the sound of her as well. It's maddening, waiting with bated breath in this dark prison, like a condemned man longing for the touch of the sun. And then he feels her warm, wet tongue wrap around his cock, curling around the base and sliding up like she's giving her attention to a lollipop instead of a man.

He moans, barely managing to keep from tilting his hips up and begging. She might tie him down again or even worse, just leave him here, if the mood strikes her. So he fists the sheets in his hands until his knuckles ache and waits for her next move. Alex doesn't disappoint, licking away the moisture on the head of his erection and then sucking on the tip as if in hopes of tasting more.

Groaning, Matt twists his head to the side and grits his teeth.

Alex chuckles softly, her fingers stroking him teasingly. "What do you feel, Matthew?"

Startled by the sound of her voice in the quiet room, it takes him a moment to respond. "Frustrated."

She tuts disapprovingly and tightens her grip around him. "No. What do you feel?"

He swallows. "You touching me."

"Now, darling, I know you can be more specific than that."

"I can."

"Then say it." She taps her fingers against his thigh. "I want to hear it."

"Alex -"

"What do you feel?"

He huffs but knows better than to disobey. "Your hand on my cock."

The words are barely out of his mouth before his erection is enveloped in the glorious warm wetness of her mouth as she takes him all the way down her throat. He cries out, unable to stop his hips from lifting off the mattress. She pushes him back down, pinning him to the bed as she continues to move her head up and down over him.

Matt pants up at the ceiling, seeing nothing but darkness but feeling so very much. She hollows her cheeks, making her thrusts shorter and sharper until his whole world narrows down to the wet suction of her mouth and the way her teeth occasionally graze over him, the way her tongue swirls over the head. His toes curl and he moans, reaching out for her, wanting to fist her hair in his hands and hold on as he comes.

And then, just as quickly as she'd taken him in, she leaves him.

The warmth of her mouth is gone and in the chilly air of his bedroom, he feels his once fast-approaching orgasm begin to ebb away like the evening tide. Groaning out his frustration, Matt slams a fist against the mattress and listens as Alex shifts and settles on the bed, her body stretched out beside him. Her lips are at his neck, leaving soft kisses while her hand rubs his chest and down his stomach. When her teeth latch onto his earlobe and tug, her hand wraps around his cock.

He bites down hard on his bottom lip and endures the pain in his ear for the sake of her small, soft hand on him. She knows just the right way to flex her wrist, the right pressure, the right way to press her thumb there just so and before long, he's lifting his hips from the bed and thrusting into her hand, whimpering her name.

She croons into his ear, breath hot against his skin. "Do you want to come, Matthew?"

He nods frantically, too caught up in the rhythm to answer her verbally.

Instantly, her hand is gone and he's left hard and seconds from release. He nearly cries as he feels her get up and hears her bare feet padding away from him. Oh god, he's done something horribly wrong and she's just going to leave him here to suffer. He's seconds from pulling off the blindfold when he hears her rooting around in his kitchen, obviously searching for something. He could peek, of course. But he lies totally still and waits for her return. It's always more fun in the end when he plays by Alex's rules.

She comes back into the room humming and there's a rustling of plastic as she opens something. He wants to ask what she's doing but she wouldn't answer him anyway and any more cheek from him and she might really leave him alone in his flat, hard and aching for her. He'll never get any sleep that way. He's rather hoping that if he's obedient enough and pleases her enough, he can convince her to stay here tonight. She hasn't slept over yet but he lives in hope that one day, he'll get to see her face first thing in the morning instead of the empty side of his bed.

Alex climbs back onto the bed and doesn't even give him time to prepare himself before something cool touches his erection. He sucks in a breath and his whole body tenses but as she smears the substance over his groin, he starts to relax again. The second he does, he's rewarded with Alex's finger pushing past his lips and he accepts the invasion greedily, tasting whipped cream as he sucks and swirls his tongue around. When he's licked her finger clean, Alex takes it from his mouth and returns the favor, her tongue lapping at his erection and testicles.

Tense once more, Matt curls his hands into the sheets and imagines what she must look like, whipped cream smeared over her mouth and chin as she licks. He's so hard it actually hurts and he squirms as she tongues at his slit, cleaning up the last of the whipped topping. God, if she would

just take him into her mouth now, he would come at just the feel of her around him.

But she doesn't. Instead, she moves away again and this time, tears of frustration spring to his eyes. He's just glad of the blindfold so Alex can't see what a pitiful creature she reduces him to. "Oh god, Alex," he groans. "Please. Please let me -"

"Begging won't get you anywhere this time, darling," she says, voice serene, as if she hasn't spent the last forty-five minutes torturing him to the point of tears. "You want to come?"

"Yes."

She hums thoughtfully, trailing her mouth lightly over his cock like the whisper of a kiss.

He whimpers.

"You're going to have to earn it then."

"How?"

He can almost hear her smirking as she crawls up his chest. "By giving what you want to receive."

Almost instantly, he knows what she means and he just has time to mumble, "Oh yes," before her hands are in his hair and her thighs close around his head. He opens his mouth eagerly and his tongue darts out to taste her sex as she hovers over him. Initially, he'd been a little hesitant about this because he really didn't think he could please her but oh, the sounds she makes when he tastes her are like a reward all their own.

He places an open-mouthed kiss to her cunt and moans when he finds her absolutely soaked. He loves how much it turns her on to have control over him and he shows it now by devoting all of his attention to her and forgetting about the ache between his own legs. He wants to make her come, wants to hear her scream, and he's positively single-minded in his pursuit.

Alex cries out, rocking against his mouth, her hands tight in his hair. "Oh god, darling." She grinds down on him and gasps. "Harder. Yes."

He pictures her above him, sitting astride his face and rolling those magnificent hips, her head thrown back and those glorious curls spilling over her shoulders. He thrusts his tongue into her dripping entrance once, twice, then takes her clit into his mouth, closing his lips around the swollen bundle of nerves. Her grip on his hair bordering on agonizing, Alex pushes down against his tongue and shouts, drenching his mouth and chin with her release.

Panting hard, she moves off of him shakily, and he can feel her body trembling as she crawls away. Her voice is husky as she presses a kiss to his chest. "Good boy. Want your reward now?"

Fuck yes.

He clears his throat and tries not to sound too desperate. "Please."

It surprises him when she leans over and he hears her begin to rummage through his nightstand. He feels the latex slide over his erection as she puts the condom on for him and it takes all of his willpower not to spill over her hand just then. Her mere touch could make him explode – he has no idea how she expects him to handle the heat of her cunt around him. But Alex has no mercy and she sinks down on him with a high-pitched moan. He nearly chokes, hands flying to her hips to hold her steady as she starts to move. "Oh god, Alex."

She bounces in his lap and he wants nothing more than to rip away the blindfold and see the way her breasts sway as she moves. Sliding up and down his cock, her sex still fluttering around him, Alex must read his mind. She doesn't remove the blindfold but she does slide her bare skin against his, leaning over him and murmuring, "Open your mouth, darling."

The moment he does, he feels her breast against his lips and moans, pulling her closer and sucking her pert nipple into his mouth. She gasps softly, still rocking her hips furiously, grinding her clit against his pelvic bone with every downward thrust. It's here – with Alex hot and wet around him, with her slick skin against his own and the smell of sex and jasmine permeating the air – that Matt learns to love the dark.

a reaction to some soft skin

Chapter Summary

Matt's problem, she surmises, is that he lacks confidence. He has no idea how outrageously sexy he is – albeit in a bumbling, lanky, endearing sort of way.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Let's Talk Turkey by Ima Robot.

Panting and delightfully exhausted, Alex collapses next to Matt and closes her eyes, mentally pinpointing all the sore spots on her body and charting the bruises that are sure to form, a map of all the places Matt has touched tonight. She likes it, likes looking in the mirror after she gets out of the shower and seeing how much she is desired.

Matt curls around her, throwing an arm over her waist and burying his face in her hair with a sweet, contented sigh. She squirms in his embrace, biting her lip. It's getting late. She should probably get up and start pulling on her clothes before he asks her to stay again. So far, she has been able to refuse his pout and those puppy eyes but a woman only has so much resolve. Staying over isn't an option. Matt is so young and naïve and she doesn't want to give him the wrong impression by spending the night. This isn't anything more than sex and she doesn't want to encourage him to believe otherwise.

As if sensing the direction of her thoughts, Matt tightens his hold on her and makes a soft noise of protest. "Don't go."

She sighs, just about to resign herself to dealing with his pouting for the next few days because she cannot stay, when she realizes it's the first time she's heard his voice – other than the occasional oh god Alex – in the last half hour. Frowning, she props herself up on her elbow and looks down at him. "Why don't you like to talk during sex?"

He blinks at her. "I didn't know you needed conversation while we fucked." He smirks. "So high maintenance, Kingston."

She thumps him on the chest, scowling when he laughs. "I don't mean conversation, smartarse. I mean just talking, telling me how good it feels, how much you want me, whispering filthy things

in my ear."

His smile fades and he looks away, uncomfortable. "I'm not any good at that."

Alex quickly muffles the urge to snort in disbelief. The few times he has talked to her in bed – only because she orders him to – he has done pretty damn well, if she says so herself. His gruff voice in her ear is always enough to make her wet, no matter what he's actually saying. Matt's problem, she surmises, is that he lacks confidence. He has no idea how outrageously sexy he is – albeit in a bumbling, lanky, endearing sort of way.

She clears her throat, tracing her fingers lightly over his chest and smiling when he tenses beneath her touch. "Maybe you need to practice."

He raises an eyebrow – adorable since he hasn't got much to work with – and asks, "Now?"

She smiles. "No time like the present."

He squirms, the beginnings of a blush already blooming across his cheeks and she watches in wonderment, trying to puzzle out how the man can still be so bloody shy after the things they've done and said to each other. "Alex, you can't just ask me."

"I beg to differ," she replies, giving him a look meant to remind him of every time she orders him about and he jumps to obey.

He flushes. "I mean when we're not having sex. It has to be natural! Why is it so important to you anyway?"

"I just like it," she says, shrugging. "Your voice is sexy."

He laughs. "You're so full of it, Kingston."

She stares at him. "I'm serious!" When he shakes his head, her eyes narrow in determination and she slips her leg between his, sliding her hand down his stomach and kissing his chest. "I like hearing you, I like knowing what I do to you." She wraps her hand around his cock and begins to stroke him to hardness once more, and though his breath hitches and his whole body tenses, she

can tell he's still listening. "Do you know what just the sound of your voice does to me, darling?"

He shakes his head, biting his lip and obviously struggling not to thrust into her hand. She lets him go, smirking at his groan, and takes his hand instead, guiding it between her thighs and letting him feel how slick she is. He inhales sharply, seemingly unable to stop himself from stroking his fingers through her wetness. "Jesus, Alex."

She lets go of his hand and arches from the mattress with a moan. "Touch me, darling. Talk to me. Please."

He remains silent for a few moments, circling his fingers over her entrance teasingly, drawing out her wetness and making her writhe. She resigns herself to just not hearing his voice unless the mood strikes him or she outright orders it, shutting her eyes and focusing on the feel of those slender, clever fingers pushing inside her. She sighs, twisting her hands in the sheets and raising her hips to get him deeper, until his knuckles are soaked with her. Breath coming a little faster, Matt indulges her, two fingers curling deep inside.

"Does that feel good, sweetheart?" Pressed against her side and no doubt watching her intently, his lips brush her ear as he speaks and Alex shivers, eyes flying open in surprise. "You're so tight, Alex. You're aching for it, aren't you?"

Oh, she is. She can feel her body clutching at him desperately; needy and ready for more, ready for anything he wants to give her.

"You want more, don't you?" He rumbles, drawing his fingers out and pushing three back in easily. "You could take so much more, couldn't you, my gorgeous girl? You're so wet I could slide my cock right into you and you wouldn't even feel it." His voice is a low growl and so bloody sexy it sends a new rush of wetness between her legs, slicking her thighs with her arousal and making Matt's thumb slip on her soaking clit. He swears, breath hot on her cheek. "God, it really does turn you on, doesn't it, you bad girl?"

She whimpers, nodding.

He groans. "You look incredible right now."

Gasping, she rolls her hips against every movement of his hand. "Tell me."

Ignoring her for the time being, he uses his free hand to caress her breasts, touching her nipples just lightly enough to drive her absolutely mad. "So lovely," he whispers. "I think about them, you know, during rehearsals. I think about pinning you down and suckling at your breast like a babe and oh god, I get so hard, Alex, just thinking about your nipple in my mouth."

He pinches her nipple and she writhes under his touch, reaching up to knead her own breast when he moves away, like the bloody tease he is.

Nipping at her earlobe, he rasps, "I love you like this. You're so wild, so desperate for me to just let you come. I love the way your chest heaves, the way your hair frames your face, and that perfect, hot cunt of yours just keeps getting tighter and tighter until I wonder if I'll ever get my hand back at all. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Kingston? Walking around with my fingers inside you?"

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, determined not to talk no matter how much she wants to beg and plead and shout yes, god yes. This is his time to talk and she doesn't want to startle him back into silence. It's too good, too much, his voice and his touch and oh god any moment now she's just going to burst.

"All I have to do is put a little more pressure on your lovely little clit and you'll come apart in my arms, won't you Alex?" He sucks her earlobe into his mouth and hums. "Is that what you want?"

She nods, releasing a broken, pathetic sob, and lifts her hips against every curling stroke of his long fingers inside her.

"Say it."

Reaching between them, she wraps her hand around his slender wrist and pushes him harder against her sex, begging, "Oh god, darling, please. Harder, deeper, I don't care just don't stop talking."

"That's it, lovely. Just let go. You're radiant when you come, Alex." He moans softly in her ear. "Let me see it."

The room spins around her, the wonderful, painful pressure builds within her and like a rubber band stretched too taut, she breaks. He presses his thumb against her clit and drives his fingers higher within her. She keens and when he laughs, it sounds positively filthy. If she hadn't already been coming hard enough to make her see spots, that laugh probably would have pushed her over

the edge and into oblivion.

"Oh there you are," he whispers. "So brilliant, Alex. You feel so amazing, love." He fucks her through her orgasm until it's all too much and she whimpers, closing her thighs around his hand to make him stop, aching and sensitive. Breathing hard, she allows Matt to brush his lips fondly against her temple, sprawled out amongst the sheets and feeling far too shagged out to move, let alone get out of bed and pull on her clothes. That had probably been his plan all along, the bastard.

He hovers at her side and she can feel his uncertainty even now, his need for her approval. It somehow makes her feel even more desired than any of his touches do, as marvelous as they are. She feels important, like she matters. Gathering her strength, she turns to him and yanks him down to her by the hair, kissing him with a ruthlessness that seems to surprise him, if the muffled noise he makes against her lips is any indication. But it doesn't stop him from kissing her back with just as much bruising force, his hands curled tightly into her hair.

"You are too fucking good at that," she moans against his mouth, and falls back amongst the rumpled sheets with him.

She never has to ask him to talk to her during sex again. He's more than willing all on his own.

then to my knees you do promote me

Chapter Summary

He's never seen her quite so upset with him and it makes him squirm and shuffle his feet like a child being scolded by his favorite teacher. Swallowing, he glances up at her through his fringe and he says, "Please, let me make it up to you."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Dangerous Animals by Arctic Monkeys. WARNING: chapter contains rimming, anal, and spanking. If that's not your thing, skip this one.

They're so close their knees are nearly touching and more than that, they're alone in the makeup trailer, both of them waiting for someone to come in and tame their hair. Alex has made it clear that she doesn't want their private lives bleeding into their interactions outside their flats but god; she looks so adorable in that camouflage. Matt can't possibly be expected to resist.

He rests his hands on her knees and sees her eyes widen just before he leans forward and presses his lips softly to hers, smiling against her lovely mouth. Alex gasps and he expects her to haul him closer and snog him senseless – is looking forward to it, really. A noise outside interrupts them and she shoves at his chest, sending him stumbling backwards into his seat just before the door opens and two people from the makeup team walk inside.

His cheeks burn from his own stupidity, at how close he'd come to outing them, and he feels Alex's glare on him for the rest of the day. She doesn't speak to him unless she has to, bestowing him with only short, clipped responses when no one is listening and acting perfectly normal when they are. As contrite as he is about how irresponsible he'd been, he can't help but admire her ability to turn her anger on and off like that. It's a skill he hopes he'll be able to master himself someday – it would certainly come in handy when he doesn't want to be caught staring at Alex like a besotted idiot.

He goes to her the minute they're released from set; loath to go back to his flat alone when he knows she's cross with him. Her time here is very close to ending and he doesn't want to waste a moment of it being angry. Alex doesn't look at him when he approaches her but she doesn't tell him to go away either. They walk back to their building in silence and Matt follows her up the stairs, too miserable to really enjoy the view. She doesn't speak as she unlocks her flat and steps inside, but she doesn't shut the door in his face and he knows it's as close to an invitation to come in as he's going to get right now. She throws her handbag down onto the coffee table and drops her head with a sigh, hands on her hips.

Matt fidgets, hovering uncertainly by the door. "Alex, I'm sorry. I know it was stupid and I don't know what I was thinking. Please don't be angry with me, love."

She turns to face him, eyes narrowed. "So you're sorry now, are you?"

He nods. "I swear it won't -"

"Shut up," she snaps. "Do you have any idea what you almost did today? If anyone can't keep her mouth shut it's the bloody makeup girl! We would have been in the papers by tomorrow!"

Matt bites his lip, guilty and wretched. "Alex -"

"I specifically told you that the things that go on between us here are to remain here and you deliberately broke that rule today."

He's never seen her quite so upset with him and it makes him squirm and shuffle his feet like a child being scolded by his favorite teacher. Swallowing, he glances up at her through his fringe and he says, "Please, let me make it up to you."

Alex lifts an eyebrow. "Is that really what you want?"

He nods eagerly. "Let me show you how sorry I am?"

She looks him over with an appraising eye, lips pursed. She's bloody intimidating like this but he holds his ground and lets her look him over. He can't even see the usual spark of interest always present in her eyes when she looks at him. She is utterly blank and it all at once terrifies and thrills him. Finally, she says, "Alright."

He nearly sags in relief.

"Go to my bedroom and take off your clothes. When you're done, face the wall." She turns him in the right direction and gives him a gentle push. "I'll be in shortly."

It's an unusual request but she'd been so cross with him he can't refuse her anything. He starts undressing the minute he reaches her bedroom, throwing his clothes into a pile by the door and listening to the sounds of Alex moving around in the other room, preparing God only knows what. He probably shouldn't be so excited about the unknown but it's Alex and whatever it is she wants him to do, he has a feeling he'll do it gladly and beg for more when she's done with him.

It only takes a few minutes before he hears her making her way down the hall to her bedroom but it feels like an eternity. He listens to the sound of high heels clicking against the floor and presses his forehead against the wall, fighting his every instinct to turn around and look.

"Good boy," she murmurs approvingly when she enters the room and finds him following her instructions. "Maybe I'll only give you ten whacks with this instead of twenty."

Curiosity gets the better of him and Matt quickly glances over his shoulder, his mouth instantly going dry and blood pooling rapidly in his groin. Alex isn't looking at him, too focused on the items she's spreading out on her bed. She isn't wearing anything but a black bra and knickers, River's red high heels she must have nicked from the set and – his stomach flutters – her reading glasses. He'd shyly asked her once to wear them during sex and she'd laughed, refusing. He thinks she's just self-conscious about them, like they're a reminder of the age gap between them, but he adores them. He loves the way they perch so prettily on the tip of her nose, loves how they instantly transform her into the sexy librarian fetish he never knew he had.

He can only guess that she's wearing them now as part of his punishment. He can't really enjoy the view when he's looking at the wall and she knows it'll drive him mad – knowing she's wearing them but unable to see. But the brief glimpse he catches before quickly turning back to face the wall is enough to sustain him. He keeps her image in his mind's eye, concentrating on holding it close, and when the first smack on his arse comes, he cries out in shock.

Turning his head quickly, he sees Alex palming a black leather belt, tapping her high-heeled foot against the floor. He meets her eyes, stunned, and she smirks. "Any objection to your apology, darling?"

His skin stings and he feels a bit humiliated but she looks so sexy and his cock is already hardening. "No," he chokes out, shaking his head.

Alex caresses his spine with the metal buckle and he shivers. "Then turn around and take your punishment like a good boy."

Obediently, he turns and braces himself, hands on the wall. Alex counts every single stroke against his bare skin, the numbers occasionally punctuated by her hums of approval, as if she's pleased with him. It makes the sharp sting of every smack a little easier to bear but he can't deny he's actually enjoying it just a bit. It hurts like hell and several times; he has to bite his lip to stifle a cry. He can feel his skin reddening and he knows sitting is going to be painful for a while but it also makes his blood boil in his veins, makes his spine tingle and he finds himself anticipating her next stroke, ready for it.

By the time Alex reaches fifteen – a compromise, she says – his eyes sting with tears but his cock throbs. He hears her drop the belt to the floor and he nearly sags with relief. "Look at me," she says softly.

He turns to face her and is surprised to find her chest heaving just as much as his and her eyes are nearly black, her cheeks flushed and her reading glasses askew. She is magnificent. Matt could come from the sight of her alone.

"Are you ready to apologize?"

He wants to tell her that he already did but he's pretty sure it would just earn him another smack and as much as he'd enjoyed it, he really wants to kiss her now. Nodding frantically, he babbles, "Yes. I'm sorry. I was stupid and thoughtless and I swear I'll never do it again. Please, Alex, just -

"

She frowns. "I don't think you're in any position to be making requests, Mr. Smith."

He nods again, mutely, blurting out, "I'm sorry."

She sighs, face softening. "You are rather lovely when you're penitent, though." Groaning, he leans against the wall and curls his hands into fists to keep from touching himself. He's so hard it's difficult to concentrate on anything else. Alex seems to sense his struggle but she doesn't move toward him, ordering instead, "Get on the bed, darling. On your hands and knees."

He moves gingerly, careful so as not to aggravate his sore bottom. The moment he's settled, Alex crawls onto the bed after him, running a gentle hand over his tender bum. "Poor darling," she croons softly. "Look how red you are."

"Wonder whose fault that is?" He asks wryly, and then winces, expecting a pinch at the very least.

Instead, Alex asks quietly, "Want me to kiss it better?"

Matt closes his eyes, stomach lurching and cock twitching at the mere thought. He nods once, whispering hoarsely, "Yes, please."

Her soft, warm lips press gently against his bare bottom in a sweet kiss and she murmurs, "Such a good boy, Matthew."

He bites his lip to contain a whimper. As much as she seems to enjoy him whispering filthy things to her, he has a particular kink for her sweet talk and she knows it.

She brushes her lips soothingly over the red welts. "Did you like it? Being spanked?"

He doesn't answer; too intent on the way her tongue darts out over a particularly sensitive spot, hot and wet against his sore skin.

"Well?" She asks again. "Did you?"

Her tongue runs down the cleft of his arse and brushes against his hole. Matt drops his head in shock and hisses out, "God, yes." He isn't sure if he's answering her question or letting her know how very much he approves of what she's doing but it doesn't seem to matter. He feels Alex smirking as she strokes over the puckered skin of his arse and when he wriggles back against her encouragingly, she delves her tongue inside.

Matt gasps, crying out as she thrusts and it's so, oh god he doesn't even know how to describe it other than fucking fantastic. He feels so exposed and normally that might be a bad thing but with Alex, everything is always so much better than he ever thought possible – even the things he thought he would never want. It's filthy heat and wetness and her thumbs holding him apart as she delves her tongue inside him, twisting it around and stretching him until he feels like he might come without her touching his cock once.

He moans out unintelligible gibberish, keening and crying out as he rocks back against her. Alex hums softly, alternating between slow, sensuous licks and fast, breath-stealing ones. She doesn't seem to be in any hurry, one of her hands still stroking over his smarting skin, but Matt's cock is heavy between his legs and he's all but sobbing as he begs her, "Fuck, Alex. Please, please, fuck -

"

She leaves him with one last stroke of her tongue and says, "Not yet, darling."

He drops his head, tears stinging his eyes. "Oh god. I'm sorry. Please, I'm sorry, I swear -"

"Shh," she laughs softly, circling her finger around his saliva-slicked entrance. "I'm not punishing you, Matthew. You'll like this, I promise." Without further explanation, she pushes her finger past the tight ring of muscle and he squeezes his eyes shut at the intrusion. It feels odd, foreign. He doesn't know if he likes it yet but he trusts Alex.

He trusts her.

He inhales sharply when she squirts something wet and cold around his entrance, removing her finger to smear it over him before slipping two fingers inside instead of one. He clenches his jaw against the weirdness, but then she crooks her fingers inside him just so and –

"Jesus, fuck, Alex."

She laughs softly. "I told you."

Every nerve ending in his body is on fire and the foreignness is gone, replaced by white-hot pleasure as she pushes her fingers in and out of him, curling them to hit some wonderful, brilliant place inside that makes him see spots. She continues to thrust until he's making the most undignified whimpering noises and on the verge of begging once more. Then, she eases her slick fingers out and leaves him empty and aching.

"Sure you're not still punishing me?" He asks, voice shaking and his whole body on edge.

"Positive," she says, and something slick and hard presses against his entrance. Startled, Matt glances over his shoulder to find Alex's beloved rabbit teasing at his arsehole. "Trust me?"

He nods mutely, transfixed.

Even so, he panics when she starts pushing it in, caught between wanting to scramble away and

push back for more. But he does trust Alex, so he settles for the latter option and hears her murmur of delight. "Oh yes," she sighs. "There's a good boy."

She sinks into him inch by torturous inch and Matt breathes deeply, trying to relax and ignore the burn he feels as he stretches around the toy. When it's fully seated inside of him, he's panting and sweaty but oh god, so very full. He tentatively rocks his hips back against the toy, ready for more, and Alex gives a soft sigh of pleasure.

Twisting the vibrator inside him, she pulls it out almost all the way and then pushes back in again, setting a slow but hard rhythm. It burns but it's so good. He pushes back against her, meeting her every thrust with a pained little moan. He never thought he'd enjoy being on his hands and knees but he clenches his fists into the sheets and arches his back, feeling about as filthy and wanton as he probably looks.

"That's it, darling," Alex says softly. "You like being fucked, don't you?"

When he manages a muffled whimper in response, she flicks some sort of button and he shouts, thighs trembling, as the toy begins to vibrate in his arse. "Alex, oh god!"

She doesn't stop plunging it into him over and over again but now it vibrates so hard he feels it all through him, the rabbit ears pulse against his straining testicles and fucking hell, he's going to burst any moment now. Alex presses her mouth to his back, hot and slick as she traces the bumps of his spine with her tongue. She slides a hand around his waist, down his stomach and wraps her fingers around his neglected, aching erection. He's so ready it doesn't take much and with one, two pumps of her hand, he shouts hoarsely, coming all over the sheets, his cock twitching and his arse clenching around the toy still buried inside him.

He collapses onto his stomach, not caring at all about the wet spot on the sheets, exhausted and breathing hard. He barely even feels it when Alex turns off the toy and eases it out of him. She puts it aside and he reaches out for her weakly, prompting her to curl up against his side. She props her chin up on his chest and smirks at him, triumphant.

"Enjoy yourself?"

He taps the rim of her glasses. "Smug really doesn't suit you."

She kisses his chin. "You're a terrible liar."

He snorts, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing his lips to her temple. "Stay with me?"

She tenses in his arms instantly, her smile gone. "No."

He does his best to ignore the disappointment settling over him. "Why not?"

She sits up, pulling the sheet around her. "Because this isn't a relationship."

He watches her in silence for a moment, contemplative. "It could be."

She turns her head to look at him, curls whipping around her face and her green eyes wide. "What?"

"Let me take you out, Alex." He reaches for her hand but she shakes her head, yanking it away. "We could just go to dinner or -"

"No, Matt," she says, crossing her arms over her chest. "Stop it."

He huffs. "Why not?"

"Matt." Her voice is hard and unrelenting. "I said no."

He wants to press the issue, ask if it has something to do with their age difference, which he doesn't care about at all. He wants to ask what he needs to do to make her want more than sex with him. But something in her tone tells him to leave it alone. So he does – for now.

Clearing his throat, he nods once. "Alright. Fine." He tugs gently at the sheet, watching her pitifully. "But do you have to leave now?" Alex softens instantly, dropping the sheet and curling back up next to him, warm and pliant in his arms once more. "I really am sorry, you know. About earlier."

"I know you are." She runs her fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "I wasn't really that angry."

"What?" He laughs. "Yes, you were."

She shakes her head. "I was upset at first. It was stupid of you, but I know it won't happen again." At her warning look, he shakes his head in agreement. One close call was enough for him, despite how intensely pleasurable his punishment had been. "By the time we finished filming for the day, I wasn't really cross anymore."

He stares at her, remembering her silence as they walked back to her flat, her angry response to his apology and her willingness to punish him. "Then why did you -"

She smiles. "Because I love seeing you so undone." She walks her fingers up his chest coyly and groans, rubbing her cheek against his side. "God, if you could have seen yourself all spread out and flushed…" She trails off with a whimper and his eyes darken in response.

"Liked that did you?" He licks his lips, bending his head to kiss her softly and Alex threads her fingers through his hair, opening her mouth under his with a moan. Curious, he slips his hand between her thighs and groans at how slippery she is. Alex pushes her hips into his hand urgently and he breaks their kiss, ducking his head between her spread legs.

Her high heels dig into his shoulder blades as he licks her and he decides then and there that he'll keep them, stowing them away on the set once filming is finished – a reminder of a lesson learned.

your heart's a stumbling block

Chapter Summary

Matt insists he hadn't been a part of the rewrite but Alex knows better. He thinks he's being sneaky, getting the chance to fondle her right in front of the entire crew without any repercussions.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Matt Nathanson's Queen of Knots.

When she arrives on set that morning, she finds a sudden change in the script. Instead of River stepping neatly into the TARDIS from space, the script now calls for her to fall on top of the Doctor and send them both crashing to the floor. Matt insists he hadn't been a part of the rewrite but Alex knows better. He thinks he's being sneaky, getting the chance to fondle her right in front of the entire crew without any repercussions.

She smirks. Well, so he thinks.

She is willing to bet he hadn't taken into consideration just how big of a problem she could create for him. Watching him from across the set just before they begin, Alex can tell that he's confident. He thinks he can get through this scene without any difficulty, without having any sort of a reaction to the woman he's currently shagging pressed intimately against him. The idiot is probably congratulating himself on his genius plan right now.

Alex is quite determined to make him regret it.

The first take, she doesn't do anything at all, lulling him into this false sense of security. She throws herself at him and he hadn't been quite ready yet. They land together in a heap of tangled limbs. She laughs breathlessly and Matt stares up at her, slightly winded and dazed. The situation is sexual enough without her having to do anything at all – she's practically straddling his lap and she can tell it's giving him some very naughty thoughts. By this point, she can read his darling face like a book and she'd be lying if she said it didn't thrill her to corrupt his previously innocent head with filthy thoughts of her.

She winks at him as she gets to her feet and moves back to her position and he grins a little shyly,

simultaneously melting her heart and making her all the more determined to fluster the hell out of him.

The second take, she trips into him on purpose and he stumbles back with her, falling onto the mat beneath them with a giggle. She laughs with him, making sure to lean in close to give him a whiff of her perfume and a nice view down the front of her dress. His eyes widen and he quickly raises them from her chest in alarm, as if terrified of being discovered ogling her.

The third take, he's ready for her but when they collapse together to the floor, Alex makes a faint, soft noise in his ear very similar to the one she gives when his hands are sliding up her thighs and she's so impatient for him to just touch her. Recognizing it, Matt gasps at hearing it somewhere so public, choking on air and ruining the take. He eyes her suspiciously as she climbs to her feet but she doesn't meet his eyes, too afraid he'll see the amusement there.

The fourth take, she throws her arms around his neck and holds on as he falls to the mat beneath them, angling her chest right against his face and deliberately placing her knee by his groin. Her red lips brush against his ear and when she pulls back, his eyes narrow. She can see the exact moment he realizes what she's doing but she only gives him an innocent smile and extracts her limbs from his.

On the fifth take, when her knee brushes his groin and finds him hard, she knows that despite all his bluster to the contrary, he's enjoying this. Breasts pressed against his chest and her gasp in his ear bordering on pornographic, she feels his hands curl into her hips as if he wants nothing more than to hold on tight and grind against her until he comes. She watches him struggle, loosening his grip on her as he realizes where they are, his expression pained as he lets her go. It's almost fun, torturing him like this, but she doubts Matt would consider it a good time if the redness of his cheeks is anything to go by.

The sixth take, she murmurs a breathy oh in his ear and he muffles a groan in a forced laugh. Alex smirks, curling her hand into the tweed jacket covering his shoulder, pleased when he slides his hand over her back in retaliation, caressing her skin through the chiffon of her dress. She lingers on his lap just a bit longer than she should and when she gets up, she makes sure her chest is close enough to his face to give him a glimpse of the hickey he'd left on her breast last night.

When she gets to her feet, he surprises her by following quickly and grabbing her wrist. She glances around nervously but everyone is too busy readying for the next take so she relaxes, glaring at him for the intimate touch. He ignores her, hissing, "I thought we were keeping this strictly off set, Kingston?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Maybe you should have thought of that before suggesting I land directly on top of you, Matthew."

He glares. "So, what? You're punishing me for Steven taking my idea and running with it? It's not funny, Alex. It's chi -"

"Oh, but it is," she says, mouth twisting in a smug grin.

He tries to look stern but he just looks so bloody adorable she finds herself wanting to get this next take absolutely perfect so she can drag him somewhere private and shag him until he can't move. "You're being very naughty today," he says, eyeing her speculatively. "Perhaps you could use a spanking too."

"I do all the spanking, darling," she scoffs, licking her lips as she looks him over. "And you like it."

His eyes darken in agreement but before another word can be said, they're called back to their places. Alex finds herself wishing she'd never started this little game because now that Matt is on to her, he gives as good as he gets, little caresses and shifts of his hips, his low voice in her ear. God, he can be absolutely maddening when he wants to be.

It's the most frustrating day on set she's had since they started this thing between them and it ends with both of them stumbling through his flat kissing furiously and wrapped around each other. Matt is more wound up than she's ever seen him, undone by the torturous teasing on set. His kisses are a little harder, his touches a little rougher and Alex moans into his mouth, loving every second of it.

Too preoccupied to bother, Matt lets her guide them to his bedroom, stripping him of his clothes as they go. In between rough kisses pressed to her collarbone, he growls, "Drove me absolutely mad today. Do you have any idea -"

She cuts him off with another kiss, dragging his mouth back up to hers and bruising his lips with her own. His hands tangle in her hair and they collide jarringly with the doorframe to his room, though neither of them pays it any mind. He licks at the inside of her mouth with enough enthusiasm to make her knees weak and she curls her hands into his shoulders, dizzy and aching.

Matt pulls away breathlessly, nipping at the line of her jaw. "Christ, I love kissing you."

Oh, the feeling is most definitely mutual.

She wants to fall into his arms and let him kiss her until she can't see straight but her common sense keeps a tight hold on her wrist, tugging to remind her how important control is in this relationship. And hers is slipping.

It takes all of her strength just to give a little push and step away from Matt, her cheeks flushed and her breathing erratic as she orders, "Get on the bed."

It's fucking beautiful the way he follows her instructions without a moment's hesitation, like having a pretty little soldier all to herself. Watching him spread out naked and waiting for her on his bed, Alex strips leisurely, letting his eyes feast on slowly revealed skin until he's squirming about impatiently. He keeps silent but his eyes tell her to hurry the hell up.

He sits up the moment she climbs onto the mattress, pulling her to him with greedy hands and she's just about to protest when he kisses her, fingers stroking the sides of her breasts. Giving in for just a moment, she opens her mouth over his and sighs as his tongue twines with hers. Eager to be closer, she straddles his thighs and wraps her arms around his neck. Taking advantage of her new position, Matt nudges his hips against hers and gives a needy little whinge that makes her want to reach between them and take him inside her body right now.

Feeling her self-control slipping further away, Alex tears her mouth from his with a gasp and scrambles from his lap. "No. Not like that."

He frowns. "What?"

"Lie down."

Sighing, he flops back down and looks up at her, pouting slightly. Knowing just how to make him a happy boy again, she gives him a little smirk and twists her body to face away from him, her knees at his shoulders, her sex right at his mouth. Just as she'd expected, Matt gives a pleased groan and she gasps as he sets right to work, licking along her slick folds eagerly. He has become quite the expert now and for a moment, Alex is tempted to stay still, to just let him bring her off this way but it isn't part of the plan. And straying from the plan means not having control over this thing they have. Losing that control isn't an option.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she does her best to focus on Matt, rather than what he's currently doing to her. Sliding her torso down his chest and stomach until her mouth is hovering over his erection, Alex breathes hotly over him and Matt moans, voice muffled by her inner thigh as he says, "Fuck, Alex. What are you -"

She licks along the underside of his cock, from the head to the base, and Matt curses, gripping her hips so tightly she can already feel the finger-shaped bruises forming. Wrapping her lips around the head, she flicks her tongue over him and gathers up the salty wetness there.

He throws his head back against his pillow, voice strangled as he says, "Alex, god – I can't – don't stop -"

Amused at his incoherency, she lifts her head and takes a moment to survey the shine of her saliva against the redness of his cock before turning to say over her shoulder, "Don't you have something to busy yourself with, Matthew?"

"How the hell am I supposed to concentrate on anything else when your mouth is there?" He looks incredulous and when Alex raises an eyebrow at him, his cock jumps in her hand.

"Do your best, darling," she says. "I'll grade on a curve."

Looking flushed and slightly lost; Matt nods and buries his face between her thighs again. The minute he does, she regrets her tartness. He slides his tongue over her and into her, knowing by now all the little ways to reduce her to a quivering wreck of a woman and concentrating on giving him pleasure seems impossible right now. But she wriggles back a bit, pushing down against his, god, fucking amazing tongue and turns back to take him into her mouth once more.

She wraps her tongue around his head at the exact moment Matt opens his mouth wide and kisses her sex. Whimpering, she wants to give up on him and just sit back, riding his face with her hands pressed to his chest until he makes her come. It's a tempting image but she refuses to give in.

Relenting only to the desire to rock her hips back against his face in short, jerky movements, she hollows out her cheeks and slides her mouth up and down over his erection, trying not to think about the slow burn building up in her belly already.

When Matt closes his mouth around her clit and sucks hard, she gives a deep moan and pushes back against his face. His cock twitches in her mouth and his hands tighten on her hips, his own moan muffled against her cunt. She shuts her eyes against the waves of pleasure assaulting her and pushes her head down, taking him deeper into her mouth until he rests against the back of her throat, swallowing around his hard length.

He cries out and drives his tongue deeper inside her, his chin sliding wetly against her hot, slick flesh. It's impossible to ignore the swelling in her abdomen any longer and Alex gives a muffled moan around his cock as she comes apart under his ministrations. She doesn't stop sucking at him,

moving her mouth over him in time with the deep, aching throb of her sex as it pulses.

When she pulls her lips over her teeth and moves rapidly up and down his length, pausing to swirl her tongue over the head of him and prod at his slit, Matt's grip on her tightens and his hips lift from the bed as he shouts, spilling into her mouth. She swallows everything he gives her and kisses the head of his cock when he's spent but Matt recovers quickly, licking at her slick sex once more.

Giving in to her desire and able to give her own pleasure her full attention now, Alex moans and lifts herself up until she's straddling his face, her hands flat on his chest to hold herself up. As he pushes his tongue inside her and his chin presses hard against her clit, Alex rides his face with deep, gasping breaths. Her hips undulate over him and listening to his approving hums as he laps at her, her orgasm steals over her slowly this time, catching her by surprise.

Chest heaving, she drags herself off of him and collapses at his side, allowing him to draw her near and tuck her head under his chin. "River throwing herself at the Doctor should become a regular thing. M' going to have a chat with Steven."

Alex snorts. "Let me know how that goes."

After a moment of silence, both of them still trying to calm their racing hearts, he says quietly, "You're leaving tomorrow."

He sounds like a little boy who doesn't want to get up and go to school in the morning and she chuckles breathlessly, curling her arm around his waist. "I am."

He remains silent for a moment, long fingers stroking over the skin of her back. "Will you miss me?"

Alex shifts restlessly against him, pursing her lips against the answer that wants to escape and saying softly instead, "I'll certainly miss this."

Sighing quietly, Matt tightens his hold around her and buries his nose in her hair. "Yeah."

She presses her lips to his chest and tells herself there is nothing else to say.

I close my eyes and see you before me

Chapter Summary

Sometimes, her fingers itch to pick up her mobile and dial, to just see what he's doing and hear his voice but that desire just tells her how bad it would be if she did. Getting attached is dangerous.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from I Touch Myself by the Divinyls.

When she goes back to LA, there is no goodbye kiss, no lingering hug or whispered farewell. She refuses to treat him any differently than she does anyone else on set, for fear that he or someone else will look too deeply into it. Matt has already broached the topic of wanting more than just casual sex and Alex doesn't want to encourage him. It can't happen. It would be a disaster. So as much as she wants to pull him into an empty room on set and shove him onto a table top for one last goodbye shag, she only waves at him from the doorway and turns, feeling his eyes on her as she leaves.

She doesn't plan to keep in touch while she's gone – she'll be back to film the finale in a few months and if he's still single and willing by then, they can pick up where they left off. Sometimes, her fingers itch to pick up her mobile and dial, to just see what he's doing and hear his voice but that desire just tells her how bad it would be if she did. Getting attached is dangerous.

But when he calls her two weeks after she left, she can't deny the way her heart jumps and a smile blooms on her face as she answers with a soft, sultry, "Hello, darling."

He chuckles quietly and she fights back a shiver at the low sound in her ear. "Kingston," he greets. "How are you?"

Walking out of her en suite bathroom and turning on the light by her bed, Alex says, "I'm alright. Getting ready for bedtime."

"Oh really?" He sounds interested and she smirks, pulling back the covers on her bed.

"Mhm," she says, deciding to torture him a bit. "Freshly showered and in my nightie. You called me just when I was about to climb under the sheets."

He says nothing but she hears a distinct hitch in his breathing.

Shifting the phone to her other ear, Alex crawls beneath her blankets and asks, "Why did you call?"

"You know why," he says, his voice a growl.

She swallows, eyes fluttering as she leans back against her pillows. "What did you do before me, you helpless idiot?"

He laughs. "Porn. But I've been avoiding the internet since we started filming."

Just like she told him to.

"Are you expecting a reward for good behavior then?"

"Well, it would certainly be a nice incentive to keep being so well-behaved." He sighs softly and she licks her lips. "Besides, I miss your mouth."

She could tell him to go out and buy a magazine, to take care of his own problem because while she's in America, it certainly isn't hers. But her knickers have been damp since he said her name and they both know she's not going to hang up now. Sinking further into her pillows, she orders quietly, "Take your cock out and stroke it for me."

He groans and she hears the rustle of clothes as he does just that. She puts her phone down just long enough to pull her nightgown over her head and toss it to the foot of her bed before bringing it back up to her ear.

"Have you been thinking about me, darling?" She asks, sliding her palm over her chest.

"All day," he breathes.

She rolls her nipple between her fingers and groans. "Tell me."

"I dreamt of you last night, the taste of you in my mouth, the way you sigh when you take me inside." He hisses and she pictures him circling his thumb over the head of his erection as he speaks. "It's all I've been able to think about all day."

"I'm thinking about you too," she says, licking her thumb and stroking it over her hardened nipple. "About how hot you must feel in the palm of your hand. So hard for me, aren't you, darling?"

"Yes," he hisses. "Always for you."

"You said you miss my mouth -"

"I do, oh god, I miss it so much, Alex." He breathes harshly into the phone and she tries to picture what he must be doing. "What do you miss about me?"

She misses so many things, and not all of them have to do with sex, but she quickly discards all of those and settles for what she misses most right now. "Have I told you how much I bloody love your hands? Those big palms that cup my breasts so perfectly and those long, talented fingers." She moans. "I miss your fingers. Just thinking about them inside me makes me so wet."

Matt groans, breathing harshly into the phone. "Christ, I love your filthy mouth."

She moans, sliding her hand down her stomach and into her knickers, past the wiry curls between her legs to stroke herself, surprised at how slick she is. Jesus, the sound of his voice alone should not be enough to make her react like this.

"Are you touching yourself?"

She makes a soft noise of affirmation, silently wondering how he knows as she slides her fingers over her clit teasingly.

His breath leaves him in a whoosh and she imagines she can feel it against her ear. "How wet are you, Alex?"

Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispers, "So wet, darling. God, you make me so sopping wet."

"Fuck," he swears, and she pictures him on his bed, his legs drawn up as he pumps his hand up and down his cock. The image shouldn't send a new rush of wetness pooling between her thighs but it does and she presses three fingers inside herself with ease, spreading her legs wider as she cants her hips. "One finger, Alex? Two?"

"Three." She whinges breathlessly. "It's not enough. I want you inside me so badly."

He whimpers. "I wish I was there with you. I would suck your nipple into my mouth and bite it that way you like. I'd leave marks all over and taste your lovely cunt. Slide my tongue inside you and oh , you're so slick and tight around me, Alex. I'd scrape my teeth over that little bundle of nerves and suck on it until you scream."

Moaning, she curls her fingers deep inside and rolls her hips. "I miss the feel of you in my mouth and how good you taste. And the noises you make when you beg."

"God, yes," he grunts, and she knows that grunt, know it means he's so close to release he can taste it like wine on his tongue. "I love it when you make me beg."

"The next time I see you," she promises lowly, "I'm going to gag that pretty little mouth of yours. I'll spank you until you're sobbing for it and then I'll slide my mouth over you. Would you like that, darling?"

His only answer is a low hiss.

She groans. "I'll take you all the way down my throat and su-"

"Fucking hell, Alex, don't stop, Jesus Christ -"

"That's right, darling," she pants, hips rocking as she rubs furiously at her clit. "Beg me like the good little boy you are."

Usually, Matt is the one to talk her through her orgasm but oddly, she finds that it's enough right now to talk to him, immensely satisfying to bring him over the edge with the sound of her voice and the images she has the power to conjure in his head. The sound of him gasping out her name and the image in her mind of him spilling hotly over his fist is enough to push her to the brink and she cries out as she clenches around her fingers. It's the quickest orgasm she's had in a while but it's also the hardest she has come since she left him. Somehow, her rabbit just isn't enough anymore.

Coming down from her euphoria, she listens to Matt struggling to catch his breath on the other end of the phone, murmuring softly to her until she clears her throat and lets him know she's finished.

"You're brilliant," he whispers, and she shifts restlessly, her skin sensitive against the soft sheets. Even now, fully sated, she still wants him. She wants to roll over in bed and swing her leg over his waist, she wants to straddle him and take him inside her body, wants to watch that light in his eyes as he looks up at her. God, she actually misses the idiot.

And he'd called her. It dawns on her suddenly how confident he must be feeling to call her specifically for phone sex when before she walked into his life, the very thought of doing such a thing would have made him blush and stutter adorably. She'd told herself when she started this that while she may be in it just for the sex, she wanted to give Matt something too. She'd wanted to give him confidence and make him realize he is desirable and sexy and talented, hoping he carries that feeling over to his job as well. He seems to be doing just fine and she knows, with a sharp twist in her gut, that it's almost time to break things off.

She bites her lip, curling onto her side and listening to his soft, even breathing on the other end of the line.

But not yet. She still has a few things left to teach him.

cut all the ropes and let me fall

Chapter Summary

She has been back long enough to get her things settled and she still hasn't sought him out, making it perfectly obvious that she doesn't need him and whenever she decides to end this thing between them – his chest aches at the mere thought – she will be just fine without him.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Bon Iver's Skinny Love.

She has been back for two hours – one hundred twenty minutes of her being in the same vicinity as him and he's just sitting here. He wants to go to her, wants to be able to stare at her for a while and drink in every single thing about her that he has missed in the months since she's been gone. But he can't appear too eager – not when Alex is so adamant about keeping what they have as casual as possible.

And no matter how she'd seemed to enjoy their phone calls while she was away, she has been back long enough to get her things settled and she still hasn't sought him out, making it perfectly obvious that she doesn't need him and whenever she decides to end this thing between them – his chest aches at the mere thought – she will be just fine without him. If she's trying to send a message, he has received it loud and clear.

So he sits. Waiting.

He has been partly sustained by their phone calls, able to hear her voice if nothing else but it hadn't been enough. He'd called because he missed her, and he would have been happy just talking to her but that would have scared her away. So he lied. He made it sound like it wasn't her he missed but the sex. It was a deception that tied his stomach in knots but it hadn't sent Alex running in the other direction so he counts it as a win anyway.

Lost in his own pitiful musings, he doesn't hear the door to his flat open. Nor does he hear the light footsteps behind him. Even so, when a silk scarf is suddenly shoved between his lips and hurriedly tied around his head; he barely flinches, far too used to Alex and her ways. And he knows it's her – he can smell the jasmine lingering on the scarf. He smiles around the makeshift gag in his mouth and feels her lean into him, her breath hot in his ear as she says, "I believe I made you a promise, darling."

He shivers, leaning back into her, his eyes fluttering shut when her lips brush his earlobe. She catches it between her teeth and nips lightly before running her tongue over the shell of his ear. Warmth steals up his spine and he tries to breathe steadily through his nose. God, he has missed her.

Unable to resist any longer, he turns in his seat to face her. She stands before him in leggings and a midriff-baring top but hell if she doesn't make it look like the sexiest lingerie on the bloody planet. Her lovely curls are tied back in a scrap of ribbon, slipping out to frame her face loosely. She watches him with a smirk on her lips; her eyes alight with mischief and still somehow managing to convey that she wants him just as much as he wants her. Matt drinks in the sight of her greedily, staring for as long as she'll allow and trying to memorize her all over again.

After a moment, she leans in, eyes on his, and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, above the scarf. "Come along, then," she purrs, and leads him by the hand to his bedroom. "Clothes off."

He strips eagerly and when she pushes him back onto his bed, he isn't surprised when she brings out the handcuffs but he does have to wonder where she'd hidden them away. She cuffs him to the bed and straddles his waist, looking down at the picture he makes and obviously satisfied as she trails her fingers lightly over his bare chest. "There now," she murmurs, leaning down to nip at his jaw. "You're going to be a good, quiet little boy, aren't you?"

He nods wordlessly.

Alex kisses his mouth over the gag in reward and pulls away, climbing off him and slipping from the bed. "I bought something while I was away."

Interest peaked; he raises his eyebrows at her.

With a wink, she disappears from the bedroom for a few moments and when she comes back, she carries a slender, black riding crop. His eyes widen and he shifts restlessly on the bed, more turned on than he probably should be. The last time she'd spanked him had been rather fantastic though and he's been hoping for a repeat.

Standing at the foot of the bed, Alex bends the riding crop beneath her hands and the stiff leather creaks in protest. "You like?"

His mouth waters, dampening the scarf shoved between his lips. He really, really wishes he could speak. But at least the gag isn't rough against his mouth and it smells like her. He can't really complain about Alex's methods of tormenting him. She's always as nice as she can be about being absolutely wicked.

She chuckles softly and extends the crop, brushing the tip of it teasingly over his erection. "I think this answers my question."

Without warning, she pulls the crop back and smacks him with it hard across his thighs. He tenses, whimpering around the gag in his mouth and straining toward her.

"Ah ah," she tsks, pulling it back with a frown. "Stay still or I'll leave you here."

He stills instantly, unmoving as he glares at her. She ignores him, circling the bed and watching him like a predator sizing up its prey. It used to make him a bit nervous when she looked at him like that but now it's all he can do to keep from groaning eagerly – whatever she has in store for him is bound to feel amazing.

When she takes the riding crop and trails it over his chest and down his stomach, he pointedly doesn't move. Alex looks pleased, teasing his testicles briefly before delivering another swift whack to his legs. He groans but still doesn't move, watching the red marks forming on the white skin of his thighs.

"That's better," she says softly, watching him with glittering eyes. "You're so good for me, aren't you, darling?"

He nods, doing his best not to squirm. He hasn't touched her in months and she knows what that soft, cooing tone of voice does to him.

"You like being spanked?" She touches the red stripes across his thighs with the tip of the riding crop and without waiting for his nod, smacks him again. "You like letting me mark you – it makes you so hard. You'd beg me if you could, wouldn't you, Matthew?"

He nods again, cursing the gag in his mouth as she trails the riding crop up the inside of his thigh, a light, tickling touch that drives him mad. God yes, please, he pleads silently. Anything you want to give me.

As if sensing his thoughts, Alex smiles.

She whips him until his thighs are red and sore, until his eyes prick with tears and he's mumbling around the gag, begging for her to touch his aching cock before he comes without a whisper of her attention. He watches her with glazed eyes and loose bones until she drops the riding crop to the floor and slips out of her leggings and knickers, climbing onto the bed in her little top.

She caresses his thighs tenderly, whispering to him what an obedient boy he'd been, how brave and lovely he is. Then, she bends her head and laves the burning stripes with her tongue, soothing them as best as she can. He squirms under her touch but she doesn't scold him, too busy kissing him better. She licks her way up his inner thigh and he lets out a shocked sob as she envelops one testicle in her mouth, spreading her tongue over it and suckling gently.

Straining against the handcuffs binding his hands over his head, Matt gasps out her name and pleads with his tormentor. He expects her to take his erection into her mouth now, to at least wrap her hand around it, something, anything before he bursts. But instead, she moves to straddle one aching thigh, pressing the heat of her core against his burning skin. He whimpers, watching her sigh and shift, biting her lip as her slickness coats his skin.

She gasps quietly and steadies herself with her hands on his chest as she rocks her hips, rubbing herself against him and obviously delighting in the way he writhes helplessly beneath her. He wants to touch her, wants so badly to put his hands on her that it's almost unbearable but god if it isn't glorious watching her selfishly use his body to give pleasure to herself. With her curls fallen out of her ribbon and her mouth open in ecstasy, the image of her alone is almost enough to make up for all this time without her in his bed.

"Do you have any idea how sexy you look like that?" She asks breathlessly. "So helpless."

She whimpers and her hips rock harder, faster. Knowing she's close, he doesn't take his eyes off her, ignoring his neglected cock to watch every single second of her falling apart. An idea forms in his mind, and smirking, Matt bends his leg at the knee, giving Alex a new angle to work with that presses her clit hard against him with every movement of her hips. She cries out sharply and he feels a new rush of wetness against his thigh as her cunt undulates against his skin.

Breathing hard, she slides off his leg and settles between his thighs, cheeks flushed and eyes suddenly sleepy as she presses a grateful kiss to his chest. "So patient," she sighs, and strokes her tongue over his nipple. He arches into the hot touch, skin tingling and prickling, his whole body overly sensitive from her exquisite torture. Pulling back, she blows softly over it, cooling her saliva on his skin and then moving to the other one. She keeps going back and forth, nipping and sucking until he's thrashing under her and his nipples are red and sore.

She doesn't even pause to inspect her handiwork, slowly working her way down his chest and stomach, leaving bright red rings of her teeth marks as she goes, like her own little map of where she's been. She pays particular attention to his hipbones, tracing her tongue over them and then sinking in her teeth until he yelps behind the gag.

And finally, blessedly, she reaches his throbbing, neglected erection. She eyes him like a dessert, licking her lips, and he waits tensely for her to devour him. Breath hot against him, she flicks her eyes up to his and asks, "You know what I don't like about the gag?" Her tongue darts out to slide over the head of his cock, licking up the moisture gathered there. "I miss hearing you beg."

Matt squeezes his eyes shut and gives a long, muffled moan of frustration. Alex laughs softly and as if finally deciding she's made him wait long enough, she takes him into her mouth. It's such a relief to feel her tongue wrapping around him that his groans of pleasure sound more like sobs but he's too far-gone to care how pathetic he might sound. Cruelly, she takes him all the way down her throat and then quickly moves back up again, sliding him from her mouth with a pop.

She smoothes the fingers of one hand over his red thighs and wraps her free hand around his cock. "It's almost an identical red," she says, sounding curious and horrifyingly like she might like to conduct further studies. On edge, Matt shifts his hips in a subtle attempt to get her to at least tighten her grip on him and give him some sodding friction.

Frustrating as ever, Alex releases her grip on him altogether. But she doesn't torment him for long, bending to suck wetly at his balls once again. He gives a muffled scream as she suckles and drags her tongue over the tight skin, lifting his hips off the bed and thrusting into the air until she finally moves that lovely, talented, sinful mouth back to his cock.

This time, she doesn't waver in her attention or pause to give him time to breathe, sliding her mouth over him and wrapping her tongue around him like she's absolutely starving for him. She keeps his hips pinned to the mattress, licking and sucking and humming until he strains the handcuffs in his fervor, releasing a muffled, drawn-out groan as he spills down her throat in hot pulses. Alex takes everything he gives her and he whimpers, feeling her throat contract around him as she swallows.

When he's spent, she slides him from her mouth almost reluctantly, as if she isn't quite ready to let him go yet. She clambers over him, unfastens the handcuffs and unknots the gag around his mouth, tossing the scarf to the floor carelessly. The first thing he does is sit up and gather her into his arms, holding her like he's been longing to do for weeks on end as he finds her mouth and kisses her hungrily.

She moans, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, surprising him with her enthusiasm. He slips his hand beneath her shirt and slides his fingers over the smooth skin of

her stomach and up, pleased to find her without a bra. He cups the heavy weight of one breast in his palm, caressing her nipple with his thumb until it hardens under his touch and Alex squirms, wrenching her mouth from his with a gasp.

He moves his mouth to her neck, kissing her there instead and breathing in the familiar scent of her. "Welcome back, Kingston."

"Missed me, did you?" She asks wryly, and carefully extracts herself from his embrace.

He pouts as she climbs off the bed and walks away. "Where are you going?"

Surely she doesn't want to leave now? She just got here.

Alex rolls her eyes. "Getting lotion for your legs," she says and disappears down the hall. "You'll be sore later if I don't."

Content that she'll come back, Matt relaxes back against the pillows and wonders if she's missed him enough to stay here tonight. They could make up for lost time. Maybe if he presents it to her as a way to have more sex rather than a new level of emotional intimacy, she'll be more inclined to curl up in his bed tonight rather than alone in her own.

As Alex pads back into the room carrying a bottle of lotion, he pushes the thought aside and focuses instead on the fact that she's here now. She settles onto the mattress again and squirts a dollop of lotion onto her hands. When she begins to rub it over the red marks she'd inflicted on his thighs, he gasps at the coolness against his skin. She smiles and presses a kiss to his knee in apology, smoothing in the lotion with gentle, careful fingers. This is the part he loves most – as much as he enjoys the spanking itself – afterward when Alex is as tender as she might be with someone she actually loves.

She distracts him easily, slipping her fingers into the crease of his thigh and sending his thoughts spiraling away. Her fingers continue to stray where he knows she hadn't struck him with the riding crop and if she keeps it up, he's going to be hard again in moment.

"Alex, love -" She grins wickedly and takes him in hand, wrapping lotion-slicked fingers around his length. He chokes on the rest of his sentence and shoots up from the pillows, yanking her into his chest and kissing her hard. "Stay with me," he gasps against her mouth. "Just tonight. You've been away for months, Alex – I want to touch you and make you come and -"

But she's already shaking her head. "I can't."

He sighs, unsurprised but still disappointed. "Why not? Could you at least tell me that?"

"Because sleeping over means this is something more than it is," she says, already dragging herself out of bed and picking up her knickers from the floor. "We're shagging, Matt. That's all."

He stares at her, speechless. He'd known, of course, that Alex wanted something casual when they started this but to hear her say it so coldly… He'd thought that maybe after a while, she would change her mind. How can she sleep with him so frequently and feel nothing? She might as well have just punched him in the chest for all the pain he feels now, watching her drag her leggings up her legs and seize her riding crop from the floor.

Swallowing around the sudden dryness in his throat, he asks quietly, "Is that all I am to you? Someone to have sex with?"

Alex freezes, turning to face him with pained eyes. "What do you want from me, Matt? We can't have anything more than that and it's ridiculous to even contemplate."

"Why is being with me ridiculous?"

She laughs and it's like another punch. "Because you're young, darling. The young have very short attention spans. And I'm tired of being the woman men lose interest in. I'm more than willing to continue our arrangement but -"

"What if I want more than that?" He interrupts, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "What if this isn't enough for me?"

Alex stiffens. "Then you'll have to find what you're looking for somewhere else because I can't give it to you."

If her laughter had been a punch, her words are a swift slap to the cheek and he recoils under the force of them. Clenching his jaw and refusing to let her see that her words have had any effect at all, he says, "Fine. Maybe I'll do that then."

He doesn't even know what he's saying. He doesn't want to find someone else – he wants Alex and the thought of being with another woman is enough to make his stomach churn. Maybe this had started out as merely sex but it's more than that to him now. Maybe it always had been. He wants a real relationship with her – he wants to really talk to her and hold her and watch crap telly with her. He wants something substantial, not these fleeting private moments, and nothing else will satisfy.

Her jaw tightens and she snatches up her scarf from the floor, balling it into a crumpled scrap in her fist. "You're welcome to look elsewhere for your needs whenever you'd like," she snaps and without looking him in the eye or uttering another word, she turns on her heel and stalks out of the room.

Matt hears the door to his flat slam shut and he sighs, sinking down onto the edge of his bed. Just moments ago, he'd been holding her and kissing her, slipping slowly from the peak of orgasm and so happy to be with her again. And now, he's buggered everything up just by being unfortunate enough to fall for an amazing, gorgeous woman who has no interest in loving him back.

tell me now where was my fault

Chapter Summary

She has gotten too attached. She's only holding onto him now because she's afraid to let go. She isn't ready to think about why.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Mumford and Sons White Blank Page

Sometimes she really hates him.

The man just can't leave well enough alone and now he's ruined everything. What's so wrong with using each other for sex? It's harmless and it's gratifying and there are no strings attached. Most men would love to have that sort of arrangement. But not Matt, of course. She has to go and shag the one man in all the UK who isn't satisfied with just that.

He's far too young for her to ever consider him as anything else. If he wants sex, she's more than happy to give it to him but one day he'll move on and find a nice girl, get married, have kids. One day, she won't mean anything at all to him. He just needs time to accept that sex doesn't always equal love. He's confused but once he has some time to think, he'll understand. And maybe he'll come back to her, ready to be her obedient pupil, just for a little while longer.

And rather stupidly, she hopes he does.

She has known since the moment he turned around and looked at her in his flat earlier, that gag in his mouth and his eyes shining as he looked at her, as if she'd been away for years instead of a few months, that things were headed into dangerous territory for both of them. She has gotten too attached. She's only holding onto him now because she's afraid to let go.

She isn't ready to think about why.

Thankfully, they don't start filming until tomorrow so Alex spends her free time in her flat, hiding from not only Matt but everyone else as well. She isn't in the mood to face anyone, too caught up

in her own self-loathing to put on a smile and pretend everything is fine.

Unfortunately for her, Karen didn't get the memo.

Without knocking, she opens the door to Alex's flat and peers inside. "Alex? Can I come in?"

She looks up from the book she has been staring at absently for the last hour and sighs. "You sort of already did, dear."

"I just need to ask your opinion," she says, venturing all the way inside and shutting the door behind her. "You're not busy, are you?"

Only with hating myself.

"Not at all. What can I do for you?"

Karen twirls in the middle of the room. "What do you think of this outfit? Do I look like I'm asking for it?"

Alex raises an eyebrow at the tight red dress and sky-high heels. "Well are you?"

Karen giggles and gives a little shimmy. "Maybe."

Laughing, Alex swings her legs to the floor and scoots over to make room for her on the sofa, patting the space next to her. If there's one thing Karen is good for, it's a pleasant distraction from her own confusing life. "Where are you off to, then? One last hurrah before the grueling filming begins again?"

Karen settles next to her, close enough to link her arm through Alex's and rest her head on her shoulder. "Something like that." She sighs. "Not really looking forward to dragging Matt around tonight though."

Alex frowns. "Why are you dragging Matt around?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Karen snorts. "I thought he told you everything. I swear, he must have been such a mummy's boy."

Heart in her throat, Alex chooses to ignore that last part and asks, "Tell me what?"

Karen sighs. "He insisted that I set him up with one of my friends but he's been so bloody moody

– he isn't exactly going to be the life of the party."

Swallowing, Alex says quietly, "I'm sure he'll be fine once he's out with everyone, dear."

"He better," she grunts, crossing long legs and jiggling her foot irritably. "I got him a date with the bustiest friend I have! And she just broke up with her boyfriend so she's probably looking for a nice comforting shag. She'll hardly want to sleep with him if he's moping! I swear, if he doesn't snap out of it, Emily will never speak to me again."

Well, he's moving on quite well. The gift of the young, she supposes. They bounce back quickly. She'd all but ordered him to go find what he wanted elsewhere and he'd done it. He is a young, sexy, talented man and thanks to her, confident enough to know he can have whoever he wants. He doesn't need her anymore and Alex has nothing left to give him except something that feels horrifyingly familiar and affectionate. It's for the best that things end now – before she gives him her heart along with her body.

Ignoring the sudden ache in her chest and the strange, gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach that absolutely is not jealousy but merely sadness at the loss of a great shag, Alex drops her head to rest against the top of Karen's. "It'll all work out," she says quietly. "You'll see."

Emily is…nice.

She's very pretty and sweet and Karen had definitely been right about her generous chest. Before

– well, just before – Emily would have been more than enough to make him a happy man. She clings to his arm as they stumble from pub to pub; laughing when he trips and matching him drink for drink. She stays close to him on the dance floor, rubbing herself against him and letting her hair brush his face, her perfume invading his senses. Once, she might have been what he was looking for, or at least a nice distraction.

But now, it feels empty. There is something missing from her. There is no challenge in her eyes when she looks at him, she doesn't meet his gaze boldly, like she has a secret she isn't going to tell him. She peeks at him from beneath her lashes and everything about her body language tells him that should they make it as far as the bedroom, he will be the one in charge. And he doesn't mind that – he's more than happy to take on the dominant role once in a while but Emily doesn't seem as if she could command a dog to sit, let alone blindfold and tease him for hours or take a riding crop to his bare skin.

It doesn't take a genius to understand why lovely, gentle Emily is no longer the woman of his dreams. Alex Kingston has ruined him for everyone else – with her wild hair and her wicked smirk, her gorgeous curves and guiding hand. She has molded and shaped him into the lover she desired and now, no one else is enough for him. Only she will satisfy him. He needs her – to tie him up and teach him a lesson, to soothe his smarting skin with her buttermilk lotion, to press her naked body to his and curl up with a sated little smile that tells him he has done well.

But Alex doesn't want him and he refuses to trail after her like an unwanted puppy, hoping she'll show him a bit of affection. So he smiles at Emily, makes jokes Alex would roll her eyes at and tries to be pleased when Emily bursts out laughing like she's never heard anything more amusing. He drinks with her, taking shot after shot and ignoring the way the room spins around him. He dances with her, holds her hips and grinds with her until he's hard just from the friction. And when Emily yanks him out of the pub and into the dark alley next to it, he follows her willingly.

He keeps her pressed close to his side and catches a whiff of her perfume. It's too sweet, like the smell of candyfloss and he hates himself a little for longing for the scent of jasmine instead. She pushes him against a brick wall and kisses him messily, all tongues and no patience. Matt opens his mouth anyway and lets her tongue slide against his own and while she certainly has enthusiasm on her side, she lacks the skill he is so used to. Maybe it's just because she's drunk, and it isn't fair to Emily but he can't stop comparing.

Gripping her jaw, he does his best to slow her down, to guide and show her that trying to eat his face isn't exactly a turn-on but Emily takes his hand against her face as passion and kisses him harder. When she finally pulls away to breathe, she doesn't pause, kissing and sucking at his neck and across his collarbones and if she should slide his t-shirt up his chest, she would find red teeth marks all down his chest like territory marks, still too new to bruise. But she's too preoccupied fumbling with his trousers to explore, breathing heavily into his neck and cupping him through the denim until she gets them unbuttoned.

Determined to get into the mood because there is a beautiful girl about to sink to her knees in front of him in a bloody alley, Matt yanks her close and kisses her one more time before giving her shoulders a gentle push. Emily smirks and reaches inside his pants, pulling out his cock and stroking him once, watching him drop his head back against the wall behind him and close his eyes, expression pinched.

It feels good. It does.

There is nothing wrong with this. He has every right to be here, there is no reason to feel like he's being unfaithful. There is no relationship to be faithful to. God only knows the fucktoy Alex has waiting for her back in LA. Someone who doesn't ask for more than sex, who's probably tanned and muscled and more experienced than he is. Gritting his teeth, Matt pushes the jealousy away and tries to focus.

On her knees, Emily wastes no time teasing him until he begs and as she immediately takes him into her mouth, he finds that he no longer likes getting what he wants right away. It's… boring. Hands gripping his thighs, she traces her tongue over the underside of his cock, then swirls it around the head and Matt moans because it seems like the thing to do, reaching down to bury his hands in her hair.

Very big mistake.

Because before, he could at least close his eyes and pretend that Alex was being deliberately terrible at this just to torture him and that if he opened his eyes, he could see her on her knees, smirking up at him. But now there is no lying to himself. The hair in his hands is straight and thin and just wrong. He is in an alleyway letting a girl who is practically a stranger suck him off just to prove a point. This isn't him. He doesn't want this.

Eyes snapping open, Matt chokes out, "Stop, Emily, stop."

She pulls back, licks swollen and pout firmly in place. "What's wrong? Don't you like it?"

He shakes his head frantically, stumbling away from her and tucking himself back into his trousers. "No, it's fine, it's -" He runs a shaking hand through his hair. "I can't do this. I'm sorry."

Her face crumples and he's reminded that she just broke up with her boyfriend. His rejection probably isn't helping make her weekend any better. God, Karen is going to strangle him.

"I'm really sorry," he says again. "I'm just not ready for this."

She gives him an appraising look, slowly rising from her knees. "You just get out of a relationship

too?"

He swallows, thinking of derisive laughter and the slamming of doors. "Something like that."

Emily shrugs. "It's okay. I understand."

"Do you want me to take you home?" He asks, feeling terrible and wanting nothing more than to leave now, but he can't just abandon her.

She shakes her head and gives a self-deprecating smile. "I think I'm gonna need another drink."

As she walks back inside and Matt flees the alley with as much dignity as he can muster, he feels the anguish slowly begin to ebb away and righteous anger take its place. Emily had been lovely, fantastic. And so understanding, even when he must have wounded her pride by pushing her away like that. Before Alex, they might have had something.

She has ruined him for everyone else – no other woman, no matter how sweet and funny and charming, is ever going to be enough now that he knows what it's like to be with Alex and god, it makes him so furious. She made him this way, created the lover she wanted and tossed him aside to fend for himself, to try to pick up the pieces and find happiness with someone else.

Fists clenched at his sides as he stalks away from town and back to his flat, Matt feels his anger grow with every step. Anger at himself for falling for someone who clearly only wanted sex from him, anger at Alex for not loving him back, that she made him into this sex-obsessed pathetic excuse for a man who knows what he wants and will accept nothing less. By the time he makes it back to the block of flats he currently calls home, he has worked himself up into quite the temper – hands balled into fists and his jaw clenched as he takes the stairs two at a time. He doesn't knock when he reaches Alex's flat, barging inside to find her standing in her living room in a silk robe and wet hair, fresh from the shower.

Her eyes widen at the sight of him but she quickly schools her expression into one of irritation. "Knock first, please. Maybe I should have taught you manners as well as how to use your tongue."

He barely flinches at the snipe, stalking toward her and enjoying the way she holds her ground despite the wariness in her eyes. When he grips her hips and walks her backwards, she doesn't struggle, letting him back her into a wall.

She raises an eyebrow, unfazed. "Back from your date so soon?" She smirks. "Did you just hold hands and talk about your childhoods?"

Hands planted on the wall on either side of her head, Matt narrows his eyes and bends his head to look into hers. "What if I told you she dragged me outside and sucked me off against a wall?"

She doesn't look away from his piercing gaze but the smug expression on her face begins to fade and he feels like a prick for how satisfied that makes him. "I'm sure she was very skilled."

"Not jealous are you, Kingston?" He asks quietly, and she glances away. "It would hardly be fair of you – considering you told me to go. And who've you got in LA, hm? Got a nice bloke warming your bed for you, waiting for you to get back and teach him a lesson too?"

Her eyes immediately fly back up to his, narrowed in her outrage. "You think I have someone to fuck in every town I stay in?" She shoves at his chest but he refuses to be budged. "You bastard – who the hell do you think you are? Get away from me!"

"I pushed her away," he growls, slamming his hand against the wall next to her head and shocking her into silence. "She was on her knees in front of me, eager and willing, and I bloody well pushed her away."

All the fury leaves her eyes in an instant. "Not talented enough for you?"

He growls in frustration. "It had nothing to do with the talent of her mouth, damn it!"

"Or lack thereof," she mutters, and he shakes her by the shoulders to get her to pay attention.

"I pushed her away because I want you."

She shakes her head vehemently. "You shouldn't have. I've got nothing to offer you, Matt. I thought we were just having a bit of fun. If I'd known you would get attached, I would never -"

He cuts her off, laughing in her face. "You didn't know it was going to happen? That is the

biggest load of bollocks I've ever heard in my life. How could anyone look at you, spend time with you, make love to you, and not fall for you, Alex? It's just not possible." He shakes his head, bending to brush his nose against hers and ignoring the way she stiffens and looks away. "You take me for a stronger man than I am. And you… you make me weak."

She looks at him again, tears brimming in her eyes.

Brushing his thumb over her cheekbone, he whispers, "But you know that, don't you, Alex? You know exactly what you do to people. You bewitch them all." He swallows, watching her eyes flutter closed at his gentle touch, a rare and precious moment of weakness. "And you love it. You love seeing us all fall at your feet. But actually letting anyone in scares the bloody hell out of you."

Her eyes snap open instantly, all vulnerability gone as if it had never been. "Don't pretend like you know anything about me -"

"I'm not pretending," he interrupts quietly. "I pay attention, Kingston. More attention than you pay to me." If the bitterness he feels creeps into his voice, neither of them acknowledges it. "But I'd like to know more. I want to know you, Alex. I want to take you out and bring you flowers just because I bloody feel like it and turn over in bed at night to see you next to me."

She stares at him for a long moment, looking shaken to the core, but just when he thinks he might be getting through to her, she clenches her jaw and says, "I'm not interested. Find someone else to give your flowers to." She shoves at his chest again. "I'll be here if you want to be properly fucked."

She might as well have slapped him. Angry all over again and so frustrated because he knows, he can see, that she's lying to him and to herself, he kisses her, hard and bruising and forceful. He expects her to push him away, to struggle. Instead, she wraps her arms around his neck and gives as good as she gets, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth and tugging on it with her teeth. He groans and moves his hands to her hips, gripping her tightly as he shoves her harder against the wall. She doesn't want to talk but this, this he can do. He can show her that she makes him angrier than he's ever been, so bloody frustrated and so achingly hard.

Gasping when he presses his erection into her thigh, Alex tears her mouth from his and bangs her head against the wall behind her. "Matt -"

He nudges her with his hips again and nips roughly at her jaw. "Shut up," he growls.

"Make me," she snaps and snags her fingers through his belt loops, yanking him into her as she presses her thigh harder against him.

Undone, Matt jerks her hands from his trousers and pins them to the wall above her head, leaning in to brush his lips harshly against hers. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I bet you're already soaked just thinking about me bending you over and spanking your lovely arse." He yanks at the tie of her robe and Alex doesn't try to stop him, tilting her chin up defiantly and letting his eyes roam over the curves of her body as the robe opens to reveal her naked skin underneath. "Let's find out shall we?"

He pauses only long enough to brush his fingers lightly, torturously, over her nipples – just enough to make her arch into him for more before he leaves her wanting – and slides his hand between her eagerly parted thighs. "Oh yes," he sighs, stroking her slick flesh. "You want to be punished, don't you, Kingston?"

She whimpers, biting down hard on her bottom lip and boldly raising one leg to wrap around his hip, giving him better access to her. She is usually the one in control in moments like this and he can see by the flush of her cheeks and the glittering of her eyes that she likes this sudden role reversal. She likes being at his mercy.

The thought makes him impossibly harder and as his fingers circle roughly over her entrance, Alex uses the opportunity to slide her free hand over the obvious bulge in his trousers. He hisses and drops his forehead to her shoulder. "Is this for me?" She asks, squeezing. "Or is this from the alley, hm?"

He sinks his teeth into her shoulder and hears her moan. "You, god. All for you."

Her fingers begin to work quickly to unbutton his trousers and he licks his way up her neck eagerly as she pants, "Going to suck away every last trace of her -"

The jealousy in her voice makes him smile but he pushes her hands away and pins her again, watching her eyes darken as he manhandles her. "No. You're going to turn around and let me fuck you like a good girl, aren't you, Kingston?"

She moans and her hot breath hits his cheek as she nods, letting him wrestle the silk robe from her body and toss it away, spinning her to face the wall. She braces her hands against it and presents herself to him like the naughty, eager little thing she is and he groans, digging his wallet out of his pocket and pulling out a condom. He rolls it on while she wiggles impatiently but the moment he grips her hips and snaps at her, "Stop moving," she stills and presses her forehead to the wall, obedient as any willing pupil. "You want to be fucked?"

She nods again, frantic.

"Say it."

He hears her swallow audibly. "I want to be fucked."

He sinks into her with a sigh and delights in the way the heat of her sex wraps around him tightly and the way she cries out as she stretches around him. This feels right – not some half-arsed blowjob in a filthy alley with a stranger. "So good, Alex, I -"

"Yes," she hisses, pushing back against him as he presses into her over and over again, every snap of his hips against her arse making a filthy slapping noise that fills the air along with their panting and moaning. "God, darling, harder, don't stop -"

"Eager, aren't you?" He asks, gripping her hips tight enough to leave bruises and Christ, he shouldn't love that so much. What has she done to him? "My eager, bad girl."

She moans her agreement, glancing over her shoulder at him with burning green eyes. "Yours, darling, please."

Her walls begin to tighten around him, the beginning spasms of her release. "You want to come?"

"Yes, I'm so close, Matt." He slows his thrusts, barely moving his cock inside her as he feels her body clutch desperately at him. The whinging sound that leaves her throat is absolutely gorgeous and he relishes every single moment of power he has over her right now. He understands now, why she loves it so much when he begs. It's intoxicating.

"You bastard," she spits and reaches behind her, dragging her nails down his arm and digging them into his flesh.

He hisses, shoving hard into her and making her cry out. "That isn't very nice, Kingston. Naughty girls don't get what they want. Now apologize."

"Like hell," she snaps, but when he begins to withdraw, she mumbles it quickly, sounding wretched.

He smirks. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry," she says loudly, irritably.

He thrusts again, shallowly, as he leans in and breathes against the shell of her ear, "That didn't sound very heartfelt."

"Please, darling," she pleads, almost sobbing as she tries to move her hips and fuck herself on him, but he holds her steady and eventually she sags against the wall, defeated as she waits for him. "I'm sorry, please. I'm sorry."

He smirks, sliding his hand over her breast and cupping it in his palm, stroking her nipple with his thumb. It hardens instantly under his touch and she whimpers, struggling to arch into his touch and push back against him at once.

Finally, moments from coming just at the sounds she's making and the feel of her swollen and soaking around him, he takes pity on her and begins to move again, deep, hard thrusts that have her scrabbling at the wall, her nails scratching dents in the plaster as she keens.

"Fuck, yes," she cries out, and when he slips his hand from her breast to the heat between her legs, stroking his fingers over her sensitive, tight little bundle of nerves, she shatters with a keening moan.

The sound of her coming apart, the memory of her begging him and the sight of the smooth line of her back arching back away from the wall and into him is enough to send Matt careening over the edge with a strangled gasp. Still pounding into her furiously, he buries his face in Alex's damp curls and howls his release.

His knees give out almost instantly and he lowers them both to the floor with as much care as he can, sprawling out on his back and panting hard. He doesn't move when Alex scoots over to him, peeling off the condom and tossing it aside before dropping her head to his chest. She slides her hand over his side gently, humming contentedly into his neck but as Matt falls fast from the rush of orgasm, he feels sick.

"God, I love makeup sex," she murmurs, laving her tongue over his chest.

He stares up at the ceiling and swallows the sudden lump in his throat. Every other time he has been with Alex, no matter what they do to each other, he has been making love to her – his affection for her always lingering in the back of his mind and making everything better, brighter. This time, there had been nothing.

There's nothing wrong with a rough fuck, but to take her like that without even thinking of how much he adores her, how much she means to him… It had been a mindless pursuit of pleasure without a thought to the love he feels for her. It had been anger and pleasure and his eagerness to hear her beg. He doesn't ever want to touch her with anything but love but tonight, he had.

This is what his frustration with her has reduced him to and he hates it. He hates how she makes him feel about himself now. Not too long ago, she made him feel amazing – like he could take on the world. But now he's in love with her and everything is different. He wants more than anything to be hers and hers alone, and for her to be his in return. She makes him feel like shit – this horrible knot of jealousy and inadequacy curled up in his stomach like a living thing all the time.

He can't do this anymore.

Slowly, Alex lifts her head from his chest, frowning. "What did you say?"

Realizing he'd spoken aloud, he clears his throat and speaks again, just as softly. "I can't do this anymore, Alex."

She stares at him wordlessly, that happy flush fading from her cheeks quickly as she sits up and reaches for her discarded robe, draping it over her shoulders. "What does that mean? You're just done?"

He nods, climbing to his feet and buttoning his trousers. "I don't like who I am with you anymore." He runs a hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes and staring at the floor instead. "I don't want to be like this and I'm tired of balancing on this line you've drawn between us." Finally glancing up, he sees her tying her robe and refusing to look at him. "I want all of you or nothing."

She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't have to – he already knows what her answer will be. With a sigh and one last glance at her, arms wrapped around herself and biting her lip as she studies the floor, he lets himself out and shuts the door softly behind him.

Standing outside in the hallway, he sags against her door and thumps his head against the wood, shutting his eyes and feeling the distance yawning wide between them.

Goodbye, Alex.

and I can't fall asleep without a little help

Chapter Summary

Right now, he's wounded from her rejection and blinded by sex, fooled by hormones into thinking he loves her but he doesn't and he'll see that eventually. He'll thank her then, for not letting him make the biggest mistake of his life.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Terrible Love by The National.

She's almost… proud of him.

When he'd come to her last night, she'd been so sure that he was crawling back as she knew he would – as if he couldn't stay away from her any more than she can stay away from him. Her skin had been practically crawling with jealousy she'd refused to admit, thinking of him out with someone else and she'd nearly snapped when he confessed that he'd let that girl put her mouth on him.

But he'd come back to her and she'd hoped that maybe he'd been ready to put his absurd notion of a relationship behind him, that he was willing to keep this thing between them casual. And god, it had been sexy as hell seeing him so in control. She'd done that. She'd transformed him from this blushing boy to a man who isn't afraid to take what he wants. And now he's gone.

Well, truthfully, he's sitting right in front of her and she stares at the back of his head as everyone piles into the van, ready to film the outdoor scenes for the first part of the finale. The distance between them is jarring – normally, he would have spotted her sitting in the back by herself and grinned, sitting as close to her as he dared and attempting to slide his fingers up her thigh when no one was looking. Today, he hadn't even glanced at her as he took the seat as far from hers as he could possibly get. It's understandable, of course, considering how awkward things are between them right now, but that doesn't make it any less painful.

Karen slides into the seat next to him, looking slightly hungover as she turns to offer a weak smile to Alex. She waves half-heartedly in reply and watches Karen punch Matt in the arm. He yelps and turns to her with a betrayed look, brow furrowed. "What the bloody hell was that for?!"

"You left my already depressed friend in the middle of a date, you arsehole!" She smacks him again and Alex bites her lip, glancing guiltily down at her lap as Matt struggles to shield himself. "And you didn't even say goodbye to me, you just disappeared! Where did you go?"

"Nowhere," he mumbles, and Alex wonders if he feels the tension between them as thickly as she does.

Karen huffs, eyeing him suspiciously. "You must have gone somewhere in such a bloody hurry."

"I was drunk and tired, Kaz. That's all." He shrugs. "And your friend wasn't my type."

"She was blonde and busty and desperate," Karen rolls her eyes. "She is every man's type."

Refusing to acknowledge the burning jealousy forming a knot in her stomach, Alex turns to stare out the window and tries to tune out the rest of their conversation. Which is impossible, of course, enclosed in a van like this and she hears Matt's quiet reply perfectly. "Then I guess I'm not every man."

"You told me you liked curvy blondes!"

"I do," he says stiffly. "Just not her."

"Oh," Karen smirks. "Were you talking about a specific curvy blonde then?"

Alex tenses immediately but Matt doesn't even stumble on his reply. "What, like I'm lusting after Marilyn Monroe? God, Kazza, get a grip."

"Alright, fine," she sniffs. "No need to be tetchy. I was just asking."

Breathing out a quiet sigh of relief, Alex rests her forehead against the windowpane and closes her eyes. Why couldn't the idiot just be happy with sex? Why did he have to push for what she couldn't ever give him? He looks at her like she's some sort of soulless, unfeeling succubus but she knows what he's too young to realize. He's about to become the biggest star in the UK, unable to even sit peacefully in a restaurant without being recognized. All eyes will be on him and he can't start a very public affair with his costar who is nineteen years his senior.

The scrutiny on both of them would be great and terrible, and she's not only protecting him, but herself as well. She won't put herself out there for the media to feast upon – not when it won't last. It's insane to even entertain the idea of Matt wanting anything serious with her long-term. He's going to have women throwing themselves at his feet on a daily basis and coming home to her every day would quickly lose its appeal. Alex won't wear her heart on her sleeve for him – she has made that mistake one too many times to fall for it again.

As she listens to him bicker light-heartedly with Karen, she knows she's making the right decision in letting him walk away. Right now, he's wounded from her rejection and blinded by sex, fooled by hormones into thinking he loves her but he doesn't and he'll see that eventually. He'll thank her then, for not letting him make the biggest mistake of his life. And so will she.

They spend the day pretending to ride horses and thankfully, there isn't much time for things to be awkward between her and Matt, all of them far too busy to concentrate on anything else but looking vaguely authentic. She hops down from the bed of the truck, wind-blown but a little exhilarated, and sees Matt standing off in the distance with Karen, staring at her unabashedly. Before, she would have smirked and tortured him a bit but now she runs a hand self-consciously over her hair and looks away, feeling strangely exposed under his gaze.

Karen bounds up to her, grinning. "Does it feel as silly as it looks?"

Alex rolls her eyes. "Oh, thank you, dear."

She snorts, latching onto Alex's elbow. "You know you looked as dignified as a person possibly can bouncing on the back of a truck. But it doesn't bode well for the rest of us."

"It certainly works your thigh muscles," she remarks, wincing a bit. "But I'm sure you'll be fine."

Karen pushes her fondly into a chair before skipping off again, letting a crewmember help her onto the truck. Caught up in watching her, Alex doesn't notice Matt settle into the seat next to her until he clears his throat. She jumps, turning to look at him with wide eyes. He doesn't return the look, his gaze focused on some fixed point in the distance. Knowing he'd probably just gotten tired of standing around, Alex tries to calm down but it's difficult with him so very close. Every time a breeze ruffles his hair, she catches the faint scent of soap and aftershave and Haribo sweets.

If things were different, she might be leaning as close as she dared to mutter filthy things into his ear, making sure when his turn came to climb into the truck, he would be very uncomfortable and

miserable as he bounced up and down. She would have made it up to him later. Lost without the promise of sex between them, Alex fiddles nervously with her hair. It feels unusually fluffy today and she tries to flatten it a bit with anxious fingers.

Without glancing once in her direction, Matt says softly, "Stop it. It looks lovely, Kingston."

Slowly, she drops her hand from her hair and lets it fall back into her lap, swallowing the lump in her throat as she avoids looking at him too. "Thank you," she whispers, and sees him scrub a hand over his face out of the corner of her eye.

They don't speak again and when Karen returns and kicks Matt out of her chair, Alex finally starts to relax. They huddle together and she forces herself to giggle along with Karen as Matt climbs into the back of the truck. He really does look ridiculous. It's strange being around him now but the day is almost over and she has managed the hardest part. Keeping him at arm's length can only get easier now.

The first thing he thinks of doing when they give him a video camera is to find Karen and torture her. He's just sorry Arthur isn't on set today – they could have played a prank on her and filmed her reaction. Confidential would love that. But he's on his own for today and he makes his way across the set while providing commentary for the viewers. He just hopes they don't notice when he stops in his tracks and stands utterly speechless, staring at Alex from across the room.

She's dressed as Cleopatra and though he'd known a costume change would be required for her in this episode, he hadn't truly thought about what that meant. She looks every bit the part of Egyptian royalty, utterly stunning in that sheer gown, her lovely cleavage practically spilling out of the top of it and her eyes lined in black – the very same color as the wig she has on and it's the only part of the outfit he isn't fond of. He resents anything that covers her curls. The rest of her, though, is… breathtaking.

Before he even knows what he's doing, he clears his throat and makes his way across the set to her, despite the voice screaming in his head to stop now. It's reckless to approach her so soon after he ended things for his own mental health, but he tells himself that he's doing this for the viewers. Surely they'll want to see Alex in costume as much as he does.

He trains the camera on Alex standing across the room and says, "We're going to go see Alex Kingston, who, look, it's not just normal Alex Kingston as River Song, it's Cleopatra."

Alex, in the middle of drinking deeply from a bottle of water, lowers it from her mouth and swallows, pasting on a bright smile but unable to hide the surprise in her eyes.

"That's who it is," he says, grinning as she preens, fluffing at her wig. "The Kingston as Cleopatra." He panics in the brief lull, terrified of making things even more awkward between them, and he senses Alex struggling as well. "How does it feel to be Cleopatra, Alex?"

"Uhm," she fiddles nervously with her wig, running her fingers over it. "It feels uniquely royal."

"Absolutely," he says, cursing himself for being a nervous, non-verbal idiot.

"I'm actually loving it."

Me too.

"Good."

She touches her headdress. "I don't think I want to take this off."

And there's where we differ, Kingston.

He'd just prefer to be the one to take it off of her.

"Really?"

"And, erm," she looks a bit lost, scrambling for something else to fill the awkward air between them and though he's currently cursing his own feet for carrying him over here, he can't help but drink in the sight of her. She's positively radiant and he can just catch the faintest hint of her perfume in the air around them as she continues to nervously adjust her headdress.

"I mean, to be honest," he says, and the butterflies in his stomach distract him from the words flying from his mouth without his consent, "out of all of us I think you do the best costume-wise, don't you? You get all the cool sort of sexy, sassy ones." As Alex starts to respond, he blurts the

words out and there is absolutely no shoving them back in. "Or is that you inside them?"

Alex covers her surprise well; giving him a fond look of exasperation that is so achingly familiar it forms a knot in his chest. "Darling," she says, and his breath hitches. "I'm a bit nervous that I might look like mutton dressed as lamb in this."

She gives a self-deprecating laugh and he just manages to muffle his gasp of indignation on her behalf. God, does she have no idea how utterly sexy she looks? It makes him want to take her by the arm and drag her somewhere private to show her just how wrong she is. But he lost that privilege when he walked out and there is no getting it back.

"Noo," he says instead, waving her away and despairing that it's the only reassurance he can offer, knowing it will never take the place of kisses and caresses. Quickly panning the camera around and turning his attention elsewhere before Alex sees the regret in his eyes, he focuses on Karen across the set. "You on the other hand…"

He's doing the right thing by staying away. He knows he is. But that doesn't make it any less difficult.

"What?" Karen holds up her hands, resigned to Matt's torment. "Go on, hit me."

They manage to get into a bickering match about Twilight before Alex redirects him to the makeup ladies and he wanders off to do her bidding before he even realizes he'd agreed. He doesn't have to follow her orders anymore, but it still feels like the most natural thing in the world.

She cannot fall apart now. Her little girl is going to be here in two days and she doesn't have time to have an emotional breakdown and pick up the pieces again. So the only solution is to not have one at all. She manages admirably, right up until Florian calls her with flight details, slips in a mention of his new girlfriend and manages to remind her of her latest failed marriage all in one fell swoop.

Today has been difficult enough – Matt had been determined to treat her like he normally did, as if refusing to acknowledge the new awkwardness between them by flirting with her but it hadn't done anything but remind her of what they'd had. He'd grinned that wide and ridiculous smile at her, given her those bedroom eyes of his and looked her up and down like he could lick her from head to toe. It had taken everything she had not to ask him to.

She misses him. She misses his giggle and his soft hair sliding through her fingers, she misses his gentle touch and his thorough kisses. And every time he looks at her, every time she catches his eye and sees the tenderness contained there for her, she is reminded that she could have all of that back – at a price. A price that is far too high for her to ever pay.

Curling up on her side on the sofa and tucking her knees under her chin, Alex stares at her mobile lying on the coffee table and thinks of Ralph and Florian and Salome and every other reason she has not to miss Matt Smith. It doesn't help and at last the tears come, tears she has been holding in since the moment he walked out because she could never give him what he wanted.

She isn't sure how long she lays there, hot tears streaking down her cheeks as she sniffles into her knees like a child but when she feels a hesitant touch on her shoulder, she gasps and jerks away, blinking her eyes open. Perched on the edge of the sofa, Matt looks contrite but adorably concerned and Alex wants nothing more than to bury her face in the sofa cushions in mortification.

"What are you doing here?"

Her voice comes out harsher than she'd intended but the humiliation of being caught crying over him is too much for her to handle at the moment. Matt blushes but doesn't look away or remove his hand from her shoulder. "I came to apologize for earlier, cornering you with a camera and all." He rubs at the back of his neck. "I knocked but you didn't answer and I was worried."

"Well I'm fine," she snaps, feeling vulnerable and not liking it one bit.

His hand traces over the curve of her shoulder and slides down the length of her arm to rest on her thigh, warm fingers curling there like they belong. "You don't look fine," he observes quietly.

Tense under his touch and wiping ineffectually at her cheeks, Alex retorts sharply, "Yes, congratulations. Bloody gold star for you -"

The rest of the words die in her throat as he uses his other hand to gently brush her hair from her forehead, his eyes kind and fathomless as they look into hers. As a hushed, reverent silence falls between them, she blinks and tries to decide what to do or say to make him leave, though it's the last thing she wants.

"Why were you crying, Kingston?" He asks, voice a whisper.

Squaring her jaw, Alex sits up and shoves his hand away from her, snapping, "None of your business. Now if you'd be so kind as to -"

Again, he cuts her off but this time with the oh so gentle brush of his lips over hers. She gasps quietly against his mouth and without her consent, her fingers curl into his shirt, keeping him firmly in place. "What are you doing?"

He bestows the softest purse of his lips to the corner of her mouth. "Kissing you."

She shakes her head, relishing the feel of his large palm caressing her back. "But you said -"

"I know," he says. "And I still mean it."

"Then why?"

"I miss you," he admits quietly, sounding pained. "And you're upset. I can't stand it. Let me help, please. Just once."

Her only answer is to wrap her arms around his neck and crawl into his lap, kissing him as hard as she can without hurting him. He moans but refuses to retaliate and his kiss remains as gentle as if she might break under his lips. It irritates her and she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip, tugging viciously.

Matt cradles her jaw in his hand and sucks her upper lip into his mouth with infinite care. For a moment, she loses herself in the sweet movement of his mouth over hers. It's been a long time since anyone has held her like this, like they were trying to make love to her through kisses alone. It isn't until his thumb sweeps over her cheekbone that she realizes he's trying to lull her into submission, like a lion tamer wielding a chair.

She changes the kiss instantly, growling into his mouth as she grips his lapels and sucks on his tongue hard. Matt doesn't budge, sliding gentle hands over her back and down the indent of her waist to grip her hips. He pulls her up with him and they stumble to their feet with their mouths still locked together. The moment she stands, he lifts her into his arms and she clings to him, letting him carry her down the hall and into her bedroom.

He lays her on the bed and follows after her, hovering over her and still kissing her like a damned lullaby. Alex reaches up and yanks roughly at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up and forcing their mouths apart to pull it over his head. His mouth goes to her neck instantly, tiny kisses pressed into her skin like wishes. She retaliates by raking her nails down his bare chest. He hisses but does not roughen his kisses. If anything, he becomes even gentler than before.

Tears of frustration sting her eyes and she moves to waistband of his trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping with trembling fingers. She tries to reach inside to curl her fingers around him but Matt pushes her hands away and rises from the bed just long enough to shed his trousers and pants before crawling back over her again. He peels her tights down her legs and tosses them aside, starting at her ankle and kissing his way up her leg. She pulls her shirt over her head and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra while Matt pauses at her knee, paying particular attention to it.

He moves on just before she grows impatient enough to tug him up to her by the hair. Pressing his fingers to her entrance through the heat of her knickers just long enough to listen to her gasp, he drops his face to her stomach and nuzzles his nose against her belly button, working her knickers down her thighs slowly as he does so.

"So beautiful," he whispers, dipping his fingers between her spread thighs and stroking her sex. She digs her nails into his shoulders and bucks her hips into his touch. Swiping his thumb over her clit, he kisses his way up her stomach to her breasts. He caresses them and strokes his tongue over them, suckles gently on her nipples until her sex is throbbing.

The unhurriedness of his movements drives her mad. She wants him to be rough with her; she wants him to be angry with her for using him and tossing him aside, she wants his teeth sinking into tender flesh and his bruising touch on her thighs. She wants his anger. Maybe then, it'll be okay for her to be angry with him too – for ruining what they had before with his bloody feelings, for making her feel things she never wanted to feel again, for being so young and lovely and giving her no choice at all.

When he raises his head to press his mouth to hers again, Alex rakes her hands through his hair and parts her lips at the gentle inquiry of his tongue, letting him sweep through her mouth with an air of resignation. No matter how she scratches and bites and pleads, Matt is going to take this as slow as he likes and there is nothing she can do to make him hurt her.

The slow burn simmering in her abdomen now is strange, nothing like the explosive heat that has always been between them. It still makes her feel just as desperate for him and she rolls her hips against him, moaning when his erection slips between her legs and presses against her hot core.

"Please," she begs, and he nibbles at her ear, groping blindly around the bedside table until he

finds the condoms stashed there. She helps him roll it on and he takes her hand, brushing his lips softly over her knuckles. He sinks into her with a soft sigh, pressing his forehead to hers. Alex lifts her leg to wrap around his narrow hips and gasps quietly, so full of him it aches.

"You feel so good," he breathes. "So perfect."

He looks at her like he'll never see her again and she remembers his words when he'd kissed her.

Just once.

It's the last time, and she suddenly understands why he's so adamant about not just shagging her senseless. As he gazes into her eyes with such tenderness it scares the hell out of her, she knows that he isn't fucking her – he's making love to her, the way she never allowed him to before.

Tears spring to her eyes again, hot and blurring her vision as they spill over and slide into her hair. Horrified, she shakes her head vehemently, scratching her nails down his back and rolling her hips hard against his thrusts. "Stop it," she hisses tearfully. "Stop being nice and fuck me, damn it."

He shushes her softly, eyes full of understanding that just makes her struggle more against the gentle rocking of his hips and the stroke of his fingers over her cheek. She sobs, thrashing beneath him and biting at his jaw, his shoulder, his throat – but Matt is stubborn too, kissing away the tears on her cheeks, combating her scratches with caresses, until she's weak and exhausted, the pleasure taking over and forcing her to stop fighting him and pull him closer instead.

Every thrust of his hips makes her cry out and Matt reaches between them to slick his fingers over her swollen clit. Every line of his face tells her how difficult it is to hold himself back, his hair falling into his eyes as he moves, and Alex reaches up with trembling fingers to brush it back from his forehead. She traces her fingertips over his nose and lips, those prominent cheekbones, until that slowly ignited heat bursts within her and her cunt swells and tightens.

"Oh god," she whispers, and he buries his face in her neck, every thrust of his hips more erratic than the last as he nears completion. "Darling, god, yes -" The climax that washes over her is as gentle and soft as a tide of warm water pulling her under, cleansing all wounds and healing all hurts. Her sex pulses and throbs around him and she cries out, tears burning her eyes as pleasure leaves her heavy-limbed and sated in his arms.

Matt thrusts once, twice more, his voice muffled against her shoulder as he cries out, "Alex, love, I -" She stops him with her mouth, pulling his head to hers and kissing him softly as he comes,

clinging to her like he'll never let go. Collapsing against her chest, he pants harshly into her hair and Alex slides her hands over his sweat-slicked back, cradling him between her thighs. She feels cracked open and raw, and she wants to hate him for making her this way but it's nearly impossible to hate a man who seems to love her so much.

She'd thought he was mistaken, blinded by hormones and the rush of sexual experimentation but this had been different. There had been no frenzied lust or anger, no lesson to be taught, no new position or toy to try. It had been just Matt and Alex, and everything lying unspoken between them. And he'd still looked at her like he'd never seen anything so wondrous. It changes everything and she knows it, even if Matt doesn't. It's what she has been so afraid of all this time

– the inability to walk away – but now that it's happened, it doesn't seem quite so terrifying. It feels new and fragile and oh god, she wants it. It might not work, it might crumble under the touch of her inexpert hands but she wants to try.

Breath caught, Matt presses one last gentle kiss to her cheek and pulls out, leaving her empty and panicked. He disposes of the condom and begins to pull on his pants and trousers in the dark, and she knows he intends to leave without another word, just as he'd promised. His movements are slow and heavy, weighted with all the things he's forcing himself not to say. He has wanted to try for months and every single time, she has pushed him away. If this ache in her chest, this desperate longing, is the same thing he felt every time he looked at her, she suddenly understands why he'd chosen to leave instead of continue to bear it.

She would rather feel nothing than feel this.

He pulls his shirt over his head and picks up his shoes, heading for the door. Alex panics, clutching the sheet to her chest as she leaps forward to the foot of the mattress, choking out, "Matt, wait."

He freezes, his hand on the door, and asks without looking back at her, "What is it, Alex?"

She swallows and hates the tremble in her voice as she replies, "I'm not good at this. I wreck every relationship I'm in – either by not being enough or being too much." She sniffles. "I can be thoughtless and selfish and insecure. I can't cook worth a damn and I hog the covers in my sleep."

Matt slowly turns to stare at her and in the dim light of the bedroom; she can just make out the tears shining in his eyes.

"My daughter is always going to be my first priority and I can't guarantee that I won't get scared and try to run." She wipes at her cheeks and offers him her bruised and battered heart on a silver platter. "But if you think you can deal with all that – if you still want me – then I'd like to try."

He swallows audibly and after a tense moment, he drops his shoes and stumbles from the door, dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed. Gaping at her with tentative hope, as if convinced she will snatch away his happiness any moment, he asks, "Do you mean it?"

Pursing her lips and blinking away tears, Alex nods. "I do."

The beaming smile he gives her just before he gathers her into his arms and kisses her desperately is enough to stop the trembling of her hands. She clings to him and hopes she hasn't just made a very stupid mistake.

so if you wanna take chances, take a chance on me

Chapter Summary

He takes her for sushi on their first date, at this tiny little place ten miles outside of Cardiff. He keeps reaching for her hand or her thigh on the drive there, as if he can't stop touching her.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Take Me Out by Atomic Tom.

He takes her for sushi on their first date, at this tiny little place ten miles outside of Cardiff. He keeps reaching for her hand or her thigh on the drive there, as if he can't stop touching her. Giddy as he opens her car door for her, he helps her out and winds an arm instantly around her waist. "I'm not being terribly pushy, am I?" He murmurs in her ear, and she shivers. "Because you can always tell me to bugger off and stop touching you."

"But I don't want you to stop touching me," she says, and tilts her head up to press her lips to his jaw.

Beaming, he tugs at the sheer scarf wrapped around her head like a 1950's movie star – her best attempt to hide her curls without looking too obvious. He'd laughed when he saw her and told her she might as well announce to everyone she's in disguise but she's pretty sure he's just being petulant. It's no secret between them that he has a slight obsession with her hair.

Swatting his hand away, she clasps it in hers and walks with him into the restaurant, heart pounding as she very bravely resists the urge to turn tail and run. She can do this – a real date in public with her much younger costar. She can. Remembering the ache in her chest when she thought it was well and truly over, and the look of heartbreaking delight on his face when she agreed to this, Alex squares her shoulders and lets him guide her to the front desk.

Doodling on the reservation list and chewing on a piece of bubblegum with enthusiasm, the hostess doesn't even look up as they approach. "Name?"

"Smith."

Alex glances at him questioningly and he shrugs. "Not exactly uncommon," he mutters.

"Hiding in plain sight?" She smirks and he taps her nose.

She blinks at him and glances away, feeling strangely warm and pleased.

The hostess leads them to a secluded table in the back and Matt actually pulls out her chair for her. "You know you don't have to go overboard. You're still getting shagged tonight."

He flushes and tugs at his shirt collar as he settles into the seat across from her. "First of all, I'm not going overboard. I'm just that gentlemanly."

She rolls her eyes.

"And second of all, there's something I want to talk to you about."

She raises an eyebrow and ignores the way her stomach tightens. "Uh oh. Already?"

"Not like that," he says, and fiddles with the tablecloth anxiously. "I think that maybe, until we can figure things out -" At her look of disbelief, he sighs. "Alright, you. Until you can figure things out because I already know exactly what I want and that isn't changing. I think we should stop."

She blinks at him. "Stop?"

"Having sex." Cheeks pink, he stares at his hands clenched in the tablecloth and then huffs, letting go and smoothing it out before scratching self-consciously at his cheek.

After a stunned moment of silence, Alex clears her throat. "Let me see if I understand this. You want to take me out, treat me like a bloody queen and get to know me, but you don't want to have sex with me?"

"Just for now," he says, eyes wide and pleading. "Believe me, Kingston, it's not exactly going to be easy for me either. But I think it might help, y'know, if we're not distracted. I want this to work."

Speechless, she watches him fiddle nervously with his shirt cuff and avoid her eyes, looking vulnerable and hopeful and god, she hasn't wanted to hug him this much since the moment she met him. She's going backwards, it seems, starting at the beginning and doing this right – the way she should've done all along, if she hadn't been so bloody terrified. "I don't think I've ever met a man like you, Matthew Smith."

"Well that's good, right?" He asks, glancing up and then looking away again.

"Maybe," she says, eyes lingering for a long moment on his exposed collarbones and mourning this sudden inability to lick them like she'd been hoping she could at the end of the night. Taking a deep breath, she nods once. "Okay."

Matt glances up at her in surprise. "Really?"

She nods. "You're right. Sex… it complicates things, darling. And I suppose things are complicated enough for now." He almost sags in his seat with relief and Alex bites her lip against a smile, reaching across the table to stroke her fingers over his. "I can still touch you, right?"

He turns his hand over and laces their fingers together. "I don't think I could stop touching you if my life depended on it."

After their initially awkward beginning, it's surprisingly easy to be with Matt like this; with all their clothes on and neither of them trying to pretend what they feel is meaningless. It leaves her more vulnerable, which is daunting, but she isn't the only one left bare. They spend dinner feeding each other sushi rolls and playing footsy under the table but her favorite part is after dinner, when Matt drives them back to Cardiff and parks at their flats only to take her hand and lead her on a walk through the mostly deserted city in the middle of the night.

This is when they talk; really talk, for the first time she can remember. Matt tells her about how he used to play football, and about growing up with his overbearing but well-meaning sister, and Alex talks about her family in Surrey and her little girl. She learns that he hates reading anything by Faulkner and that he loves rap music, and in return, she confesses that she cries every time she watches Fried Green Tomatoes and that Hey Jude is the only song in the world to give her strength when she needs it.

It's the best date she's ever had.

It's three in the morning before they make it back to their block of flats with aching feet and tired smiles, their arms linked together. Lingering in the doorway of her flat, Alex fiddles with the buttons of his shirt and wishes she hadn't agreed to their new rule after all. "How about kissing?" She asks softly, eyes on his mouth.

Matt swallows. "Yeah, kissing is -" He clears his throat. "Kissing is good."

Leaning up on her tiptoes, she presses her mouth to his, wondering if he understands how terrified and happy and sheer bloody hopeful she feels in his presence. He slides his hands over her back and cradles her to his chest, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth with a groan.

"Come inside," she breathes, curling her hands into his shirt.

"Alex -"

She shakes her head. "We don't have to… I just want you near."

He looks at her like she'd offered him the moon and she remembers suddenly every single time she fucked him and left, like he meant nothing. Smiling tentatively, he nods and holds her close. "I'd like that."

When he wakes in the morning, Alex is there.

He doesn't even need to open his eyes to know it – he can feel the warm weight of her pressed against his side, her hair tickling under his chin and the scent of her perfume in the air. After last night, they had fallen into her bed still dressed and kissed with unhurried, sleepy languor until they'd fallen asleep, curled around each other. Sleeping next to Alex had been just about as wonderful as he'd hoped – the only thing that could have made it better was a substantial lack of clothing but they'll get there. He's determined to be patient.

Still half asleep and grinning widely, Matt tightens his hold around her waist and turns his face, burying it in her curls. She stirs, instinctively tensing in his arms before she remembers where she is and who she's with and he feels the moment she relaxes again, curling into him with a sleepy sigh.

"Good morning," he says, pressing his lips to the top of her head. Alex mumbles something in reply and he grins. "Not a morning person then."

She burrows her head beneath the blankets and from under the mound now tucked into his side, he hears one word. "Tea."

Rolling his eyes, he wraps his arms around the small bundle next to him and presses a kiss to what he is fairly sure is her cheek. "Back in a mo'."

"Best."

"I know I am." He drags himself out of bed and scrubs a hand over his face as he pads from the room and into the kitchen to boil water. Once he manages to coax Alex out of bed to the kitchen table, he even manages to make her smile before nine am by offering her a chocolate muffin for breakfast.

Snatching it from his hand like it might disappear if she doesn't take it, she curls up on her chair at the table and rips open the wrapper. "Where did you get this? My kitchen is sadly lacking so it certainly isn't from mine."

"Nicked it from Kazza's flat," he says, pushing a mug of tea in her direction and trying not to smile at her sleep-rumpled hair and clothes, and that adorable crease from her pillow on her cheek. Tetchy though she may be, he adores Morning Alex as much as he adores her fully awake and coherent.

"You're perfect." She sighs; popping a piece of her breakfast into her mouth and making a noise so pleasurable it makes him a bit jealous. "Be careful, darling, or I might decide to keep you."

He ducks his head. "That's the plan."

She freezes, mouth full as she stares at him. "Right. Sorry." She swallows. "I forgot."

Shrugging, he glances up at her with a small smile. "It's fine. Taking me seriously will take some getting used to."

"Darling -"

"You're picking up Salome at the airport today, right?" He interrupts, because he does understand that Alex is going to need to adjust to this new aspect of their relationship, but that doesn't make talking about it easy. "I can't wait to meet her."

Alex nods, sipping at her tea and eyeing him guiltily. "I'm going to take her out for lunch when she gets here. And tell her about you."

He looks at her in surprise. "Really? I mean, we haven't -"

"I know," she says, shrugging. "But she can handle me dating. Her father already is."

Neither of them mentions it but they both know it's a much bigger deal than Alex is making it out to be. Her willingness to be honest with her daughter about him means a lot – it means she wants this to work too. It means she has faith that it might.

When she finishes her breakfast, she kisses him for his trouble and shoves him out of her flat. "I could help you get ready," he pouts, standing in the hallway.

"And then I would be very late," she laughs. "And we would be breaking your new rule."

"Oh sure, now you like rules," he scowls, and she blows him a kiss before shutting the door in his face.

He waits anxiously all afternoon, wishing he had filming to keep him occupied because right now all he can do is pace in his flat and worry that Alex had been wrong and Salome is very much not okay with her mother dating. Or maybe she'll be fine with it until she meets Matt, who she deems entirely unacceptable and hates him on sight. When he can't stand waiting any more, he invades Kazza's flat as a distraction and finds her sitting with Arthur on the sofa and watching Jeremy Kyle. He squeezes in between them, props his feet up on the coffee table and sighs.

Arthur elbows him and frowns. "Yes, please grace us with your ever jovial presence."

"Shove off, Darvill." Matt elbows him back. "And blimey, Jeremy Kyle, really? Why don't you just turn the telly off and stare at each other instead? You'll get about as much entertainment."

"Oi," Karen reaches over and smacks him on the back of the head. "You can't just barge into my flat and mock my telly choices! Who shoved a stick up your skinny arse today, anyway?"

Eyeing him curiously, Arthur says, "You've been odd for days. What's the problem, mate? Need to get laid?"

"The exact opposite actually."

"That is rubbish."

Giving Arthur a look, Karen pats Matt on the shoulder and says, "Alright, stupid face. The therapist is in – spill your guts."

He nicks the remote from her lap and begins flicking through the admittedly few channels. "There's nothing to spill."

"So you're just here to let us bask in your very zen aura?" She looks pointedly at his white-knuckled grip on the remote. "Come on. You know you want to talk or you wouldn't be here."

"I'm here because I don't want to talk."

"Ah hah!" Karen prods at him with one long, red-painted nail. "So you are avoiding something."

Arthur groans and scrubs a hand through his hair. "For the love of god, mate, just tell her so she'll stop."

Very much regretting coming here at all, Matt sighs. "It's nothing. I'm just waiting around for Alex to get back – she went to pick up Salome from the airport."

Karen frowns. "Why is that making you jumpy and grouchy?"

He shrugs and mumbles his reply.

She cups her hand around her ear and leans forward. "What was that?"

"I'm worried she won't like me," he huffs.

Giggling, she pats him on the shoulder. "Why wouldn't she like you? And more significantly, why the hell is it so important to you?"

Without a reply that won't give him away, Matt stares at his lap and blushes.

Arthur snorts and Karen gasps in realization. "So there was a specific curvy blonde!" She smacks his arm and he flinches away from her. "You lying arsehole!"

"It's still new all right?" He snaps, swatting her away and glowering at Arthur. "Don't ruin it. Your manic enthusiasm will do nothing to help my case."

"Are you kidding me? She's Alex Kingston." Arthur smirks. "She's way too good for you. If you don't ruin it, nothing Kaz says will."

"Yes, thank you, that's exactly what I need to hear right now." Matt scowls at him and presses buttons on the remote viciously.

Nearly bouncing in her seat, Karen says, "I can't believe you weren't going to tell us! How long has this been going on? Does Moffat know?"

"No one knows," he snaps. "And as for how long it's been going on, that's none of your business."

Karen hums thoughtfully. "So since the beginning then?"

He splutters but doesn't get the chance to reply before his mobile buzzes in his pocket. Jumping from the sofa and tossing the remote to Arthur, he digs it out of his trouser pocket and checks his messages. There's a text from Alex: My flat. Five minutes.

Matt glances up at his friends, wide-eyed. "How do I look?"

"Like an idiot," is Karen's immediate reply. "But most kids like clowns so you never know."

"Hate you," he says, stalking toward the door. "So much."

Salome turns out to be just as scary as he'd expected, but not quite in the way he'd expected. She's a very friendly child, not shy at all, and thankfully doesn't seem to harbor any resentment toward him. Within fifteen minutes of meeting her, Matt has heard all about her plane ride – including what the in-flight movie had been and what sort of snacks had been offered – and what she and her mother had done after she arrived.

"She didn't tell me about you until she got us ice cream," she says, in the middle of showing Matt her collection of Wii games she'd brought with her. "I think she was just scared. Which is silly because I already like you better than my daddy's new girlfriend. I don't think it matters that you're younger my mum, do you?"

A little overwhelmed because it's the first time Salome has paused since she met him, Matt fumbles for a reply. "Well some people might think so, but I don't."

"Do you like kids?"

"Usually," he says. "But especially if they're small, curly-haired and the offspring of my… Alex."

Salome rolls her eyes and squirms away with a giggle when he pokes her playfully in the side. "Mum said you were oddly charming."

He snorts. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"I'm pretty sure she meant it as one." She purses her lips and eyes him in a very unnerving manner. "Are you really serious about my mum? Or do you just like to snog her?"

Matt chokes. "How old are you?"

"Nine."

"Aren't you a little young to be thinking about things like that?"

"Not really." She shrugs. "And aren't you avoiding the question?"

He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. "Erm. Both."

After a moment, Salome beams. "Fair enough." She drops Dance Dance Revolution in his lap. "Want to play?"

"Well…" He glances around the empty room nervously. Alex had left them to make a phone call but Matt is pretty sure she's just standing outside the door giggling to herself as he bumbles through unfamiliar territory. "Sure. Why not?"

After his initial grilling, they get along swimmingly and when Alex finally walks back into the flat, Salome is trying to teach him the correct way to dance to Rasputin. Alex pauses in the doorway, smirking. "Getting along, then?"

Matt glances at Salome. "Break?"

She nods. "Okay. I need to unpack anyway."

"I'll practice later, alright?" He ruffles her hair and she grins before disappearing into her room and shutting the door behind her.

Standing in the doorway, hands behind her back, Alex looks uncharacteristically nervous. "So how did it go?"

He slips his arms around her waist and gives her a pointed look. "You could have warned me I would be interrogated by a scarily proficient nine year old."

Giggling, she leans in and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Now what would have been the fun in that?"

"Good to know your love of torturing me extends to outside the bedroom as well," he grumbles, and she scratches under his chin with her nails. "I like her though. She's…brilliant."

Alex brightens. "Really?"

He nods. "Should have expected no less – she is yours, after all."

"Very true." She allows him to kiss her softly. "She likes you too. I can tell. But then I should have known. She is mine."

He's trying so hard.

He makes her and Salome dinner at the end of a long day on set, he plays with Salome in between takes to keep her from getting too bored, he brings her flowers for no reason at all, kisses her cheek like that simple touch means more to him than anything else. He's doing his best to show her that he can be more than just a good shag and she can't remember the last time a man paid so much attention to her.

It absolutely terrifies her. And what's worse, she no longer has sex to hide behind, as a way to distract him from looking at her like she's everything. Around him, she feels vulnerable all the time. But she supposes that's the point. She needs to figure out what she wants and not keep Matt dangling on a string, waiting for her to tell him what he wants to hear. It isn't fair to him.

But it's hard to concentrate on love when her mind constantly whispers to her how lovely that bowtie would look wrapped around his wrists, or reminds her of how sexy he sounds when he begs. It's increasingly frustrating trying to keep her hands off him and the fact that her frustrations have started to take the form of rather vivid sex dreams isn't helping. More often than not, she wakes up with her thighs drenched and her moans muffled in her pillow.

When they're alone together, she tries to cross that invisible line between them, pushing just to see how far Matt will let her go. So far, he has always been able to think clearly enough to push her away before they go too far. He takes her hands gently in his and shakes his head through the heady rush of lust she knows he must be feeling just as keenly as she is.

Yesterday, he had been helping her fold laundry in the middle of her living room when she'd reached for him, drawing him to her for a hungry kiss. God, something about him holding her knickers like that had made her come completely undone. He'd groaned into her mouth and let her pull him down onto the floor with her. She'd really thought he'd finally reached his breaking point until the moment she slid her hand beneath his t-shirt and caressed his bare skin. He'd jumped away from her immediately, leaping to his feet and pacing away from her, breathing hard.

"You're not ready," he'd said, voice full of conviction.

She'd wanted to disagree, tell him she'd made up her mind. But it would have been a lie and they both knew it. It's good for them to keep their physical distance right now and she knows it, she knows she needs the time to think clearly and she's grateful that Matt has kept her from breaking the boundaries they've set. But she can see his resolve crumbling with her every advance. Soon enough, he won't have the strength to stop her, and she isn't sure she'll be able to stop herself.

Mentally patting herself on the back for making it through another day without jumping him, Alex tucks Salome into bed and retreats to her own room, shrugging out of her clothes and slipping into a tiny nightie, relishing the silken feel of it against her bare skin. It makes her feel sexy and desired, and she plans to fall into bed imagining Matt stripping it off her. With a little moan of unsatisfied desire, she crawls into bed and is just about to retreat into the erotic fantasies keeping her sane during this horrible drought when she hears from down the hall, "Mum? Where's my iPod?"

Eyes flying open, Alex groans in protest and calls out, "I don't know, honey. Where did you leave it last?" She slips from bed and opens her bedroom door, leaning out into the hallway to hear Salome's reply.

"Maybe it's still at Matty's place," she says. "He was putting music on it earlier cause he said mine was rubbish. Could you check for me?"

She sighs, leaning against the doorframe. "Salome, it's late. Can't you just get it tomorrow?"

"You know I can't sleep without listening to it, Mum," Salome says, voice deliberately patient, as if Alex is particularly dense.

Biting her tongue, Alex glances forlornly back at her warm bed. "I'll go fetch it then, shall I?"

"Love you!"

"You'd better," she grumbles, and traipses down the hall, out of her flat and to Matt's. She tugs at the indecent hem of her nightie, shivering at the slide of silk against her pebbled nipples, and resolves to be quick about this. At least she'll get another glimpse of Matt before bed to fuel her fantasies. Without bothering to knock, she walks inside and into his living room, peeking beneath sofa cushions and the magazines cluttering the coffee table as she calls out, "Don't mind me, darling, just checking for -"

She doesn't get to finish her sentence before strong hands grip her by the hips and haul her against the nearest wall. She manages a squeak of protest before warm, eager lips cover hers and drown out all other objections. One hand cradles her jaw while long fingers of the other trail up and down over her nightgown greedily, pausing to caress her waist or cup the weight of a breast. She sighs quietly into his mouth and wraps her arms around his neck, giving in without thought.

Matt's tongue sweeps through her mouth viciously and when she tries to take control, he nips at her lip for her trouble. Scratching her nails through the soft hair at the back of his head, she tilts her own head back and lets him trail his hot mouth over her throat, licking and sucking hungrily.

"Matt, what -"

"Jesus Christ," he rasps, and slips his hand beneath her nightgown. "You've been driving me mad for weeks and then you walk in here wearing this and you expect me to be a good boy and keep my hands to myself?" She moans, lifting her hips as he drags her silky nightgown up her thighs and cups her through her knickers. "Does it turn you on, teasing me like this?"

"W-wasn't trying to tease you," she manages, chest heaving already.

"Could have fooled me," he says roughly. "Your knickers are soaked, Kingston. You're teasing me and you're enjoying it."

Shaking her head, she licks her lips and struggles to form a reply as he rubs his thumb over her clit. "Not teasing you," she breathes. "N-not right now, anyway. I've been this wet all day, darling. For weeks. You make me so wet -"

He growls and covers her mouth with his own, kissing her hard as his fingers slip inside her knickers and into her sex. He slides inside her so easily she barely feels it until he adds another finger, and then another, pumping them steadily. She cries out, wrapping her leg around his waist to give him room to maneuver. God, her vibrator is nothing compared to feeling him inside her – even just his fingers is more satisfying than her rabbit's highest setting.

Her head lolls back against the wall and she sighs, "I've been – fuck – thinking about this every night for weeks – god -" He groans in reply, swirling his hot tongue over the shell of her ear and twisting those clever fingers inside her, his erection grinding into her thigh.

She realizes suddenly that she has found his breaking point without even trying. This is what she has been waiting for, for him to finally get so tired of resisting that he'll not only willingly cross that line with her, but carry her over it gladly. But she'd promised – until she made up her mind, they wouldn't sleep together. It only hurt them both. Her mind isn't made up. And surprisingly, she finds that she isn't as willing as she'd thought to break a promise to him just for a few very gratifying minutes.

Pushing weakly at his chest, she gasps out, "No, stop. Matt, we have to stop -"

As if someone had thrown a cold bucket of water on him, Matt disentangles himself from her and stumbles back, breathing hard as he stares at her, flushed and slumped against the wall, her nightgown bunched around her hips. Her arousal glistens on his fingers and the air already smells of sex.

Mouth dry, Alex tears her eyes away from the bulge in his trousers and says shakily, "I-I just came to look for Salome's iPod."

Matt runs a trembling hand through his hair and inhales deeply, eyes shut. "Right," he says, voice low enough to make her bite her lip against a whimper. "It's on the table."

He doesn't move to get it for her and she knows being close enough to hand it to her would

probably result in something they'd both regret. Smoothing out her nightgown, Alex nods her thanks and walks quickly to retrieve her daughter's iPod, her heart still thudding in her chest.

"See you tomorrow then," she mumbles, and turns to flee.

"Alex," he says, and she stops, turning to face him but staring at his shoes instead.

No eye contact. He'll pull her in with those bloody eyes of his.

"Thank you," he says softly. "For stopping us, I mean. I lost it and -"

"It's alright, darling," she says, and damn it all, she risks a glance at him and sees him watching her obvious gratitude and disappointment warring on his face. "You were right. This is good for us."

He smiles weakly.

"Now if you'll excuse me," she smirks. "I've got a date with a rabbit I can't miss."

His eyes darken instantly. "You really do love torturing me, don't you?"

"It's almost as fun as the riding crop," she winks and walks out the door. Her whole body still aches for his touch but her promise is still intact, and despite her initial misgivings, she finds herself incredibly grateful for that.

She's glad that she has found someone who seems to love spending time with her rather precocious daughter. Really, she is. But she would be a lot happier if the two of them didn't sneak in a pack of colorful chalk and park themselves in the middle of the studio to draw on the floor and make crewmembers step around them to work.

She follows Karen and Arthur outside to chat with them during their smoke break and when she

comes back in, Matt is sitting on his tweed coat, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and hair falling into his eyes as he sketches something on the floor with green chalk. Salome sits next to him, gesturing widely and seemingly directing him.

A crewmember with an armful of costume changes for Arthur and Karen nearly trips over Matt's hand and Matt apologizes profusely without looking up, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates. Sighing, Alex gathers her patience and approaches them with her best What The Hell Are You Doing face.

Glancing up at her approach, Matt counters with his I'm Totally Innocent And Adorable face, which is only enhanced by the smudge of blue chalk on his cheek. "Kingston, look what we made!"

She surveys the vast landscape they've managed to create in the time she has been gone - a tiny town complete with buildings and people, who are apparently being attacked by some tentacled alien race. Matt seems to be in the middle of drawing the Doctor saving them all, sonic screwdriver included. "Impressive," she admits, softening a bit when Salome beams. "But why are you drawing in the middle of the floor and in everyone's way?"

"We couldn't draw outside, Mom," Salome reasons. "It's going to rain tomorrow and all our work would wash away."

"This can't stay forever either." She sighs. "Why don't you fetch my phone from my bag and we can take pictures, alright?"

Salome glances at Matt, who shrugs and nods sagely. "Okay." She climbs to her feet. "Don't draw anything else without me, Matty!"

He salutes as she scurries off and Alex stares down at him in amusement, tapping her foot. Looking properly chastised, he bites his lip. "She mentioned she liked drawing. I just want to spend more time with her."

As a cameraman carefully tiptoes across the vast chalk drawing so as not to smudge it, Alex shakes her head. "I understand that, darling. And I love that you want to get to know her, but maybe you should consider spending time with her somewhere else."

"That would be nice," he agrees. "But we're constantly on set and when we're not, we're too exhausted to do anything else. I'm working with what I've got, Kingston."

She loves it when he calls her that. And she really, really wants to kiss that chalk smudge on his cheek.

Clearing her throat, she pushes away thoughts of what she can't have right now – not in front of everyone on set, at least. "Well tomorrow we don't have to be on set until nine. If you can manage to get your lazy arse out of bed in time, you'll have a few hours to spend with her then."

Matt brightens instantly. "Oh, we could have breakfast together!"

"Sure." She nods, eyes lingering on his lean forearms, muscled and slender and –

"Brilliant," he grins at her. "Don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it."

His enthusiasm makes her a little nervous but she doesn't understand why until he knocks on her door at six in the morning, carrying a basket laden with food as he says, "I promised Salome a beach picnic."

Leaning tiredly against the doorframe, Alex stares at him. "You hate me, don't you?"

He puckers his lips and presses a noisy, smacking kiss to her cheek. "Quite the opposite."

She glares at him.

Waving his basket in front of her face, he sing-songs, "I have chocolate muffins."

Half an hour later, they're sitting on a blanket in the sand at Cardiff Bay. Matt and Salome are chattering away as if it's three in the afternoon instead of this ungodly hour and Alex cradles the thermos of tea he'd handed her to her chest and watches them balefully.

"Okay, okay favorite book."

Matt squints. "Erm… Cat's Cradle. Or 1984. Or On The Road."

"I like Harry Potter."

Reaching out with the hand that isn't popping orange slices into his mouth, Matt traces his fingers over Alex's knuckles and she allows herself to be soothed by the touch and the sound of the water nearby. "Which one?"

"Prisoner of Azkaban."

"A lovely choice," he agrees, winking at Alex. "Favorite ice cream flavor?"

"Strawberry."

"Chocolate." He holds up a hand. "No, wait. Rocky Road. Or cookie dough." Salome gives him a look and he pouts. "I can't choose. Don't make me."

Salome giggles. "You're not very good at this game."

"Oi, I may be indecisive, Salome Violetta but I can still build a sandcastle better than you."

Scrambling for her bucket and shovel with a laugh, she says, "You wish!"

Smirking, Matt leans over to slide an orange slice into Alex's waiting mouth before kissing her cheek and leaping to his feet to join her. Shaking her head at them, Alex continues to sip at her tea, munch on the breakfast Matt had prepared for them and flip through the magazine she'd packed, all the while listening to the two of them bickering good-naturedly.

She glances up occasionally to see them busily at work and covered in sand, smiles on their faces. Christ, he is perfect with her child and it pushes her just a little closer to making a decision just watching him. Matt talks to Salome like she's her own person, like her opinion matters to him and she can tell that he genuinely likes her, not just because she's Alex's daughter.

She wonders if maybe he would like kids of his own someday, considering how bloody amazing he is with hers. She can't give him that but after her highly publicized separation from her husband, everyone knows that, including him. If it were important to him, she knows he wouldn't be pursuing her like a sodding bloodhound. He knows what he's getting into with her, and strangely enough, he isn't running in the other direction.

"I know what you're thinking."

Startled, she glances up from her magazine to see Matt sitting next to her on the blanket, covered in sand. "I thought you were building a sandcastle?"

He snorts derisively. "I was. But it turns out your daughter is just as insanely competent at that as she is at everything else."

Glancing down the beach, Alex spies Matt's lopsided, sad little sand castle next to the elaborate looking one Salome is currently decorating with pebbles. Smirking proudly, she asks, "Kicked your arse, did she?"

He drops his head to her shoulder, showering her with sand as he bemoans, "She makes me feel dreadfully inadequate."

A family trait, she thinks guiltily.

He presses his lips to her neck. "You're avoiding me."

"What?"

"I said I know what you're thinking."

Turning her head, she raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh? And what am I thinking, Mr. Smith?"

"Besides contemplating all the ways you'd like to ravish me, you're also thinking I'm going to lose interest in you. Which is daft."

She sighs and gazes at her daughter, playing in the sand. "Darling, you can't even stay faithful to an ice cream flavor."

Lifting his head from her shoulder, he frowns. "That's hardly the same thing, Kingston. You're not a bloody ice cream flavor or a book, you're you. And I'll never get tired of that. Ever."

Skeptical, she says nothing.

He sighs, pressing his forehead against her temple as he whispers, "Please don't run away."

She turns her head, burying her nose in his t-shirt and breathing him in. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side, pressing a kiss to the top of her head when she curls into him. "I'm trying," she finally promises.

and three words on the tip of my tongue

Chapter Summary

Alex had been a rather fantastic teacher and he'd been an eager pupil, and he only hopes that at the end of the day, she can say the same now their roles have been reversed.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Patient Love by Passenger.

The student, it seems, has become the teacher – only, he isn't teaching her quite the same things she'd taught him. He's teaching her that sex isn't the only thing he has to offer just because he's younger than her. He's teaching her what it feels like to be cherished. Alex had been a rather fantastic teacher and he'd been an eager pupil, and he only hopes that at the end of the day, she can say the same now their roles have been reversed.

When he walks into her flat just before dinner, he finds her in the kitchen perusing takeout menus. He slips his arms around her from behind and she stiffens instinctively before he holds an azalea in front of her nose. She makes a quiet noise of surprise and turns in his arms to smile at him, bright and truly pleased with the simple gesture. It's little things like her reaction to a single flower that makes him realize why it's so difficult for her to accept that he loves her and he doesn't plan on going anywhere. He's determined to get her so used to flowers and cuddles and soft words in her ear that anything else is a surprise, rather than the other way around. He wants her to be used to being romanced because he doesn't ever plan to stop.

"For me?"

"No, it's for this fantastic woman I'm a bit in love with. Think she'll like it?"

She rolls her eyes, touching the soft orange petals with the tips of her fingers. "What's the occasion?"

"Who says there has to be an occasion?" He plucks it from her hand and tucks it behind her ear. "I just thought it would look lovely on you." He beams. "And look at that, I was right."

Alex wrinkles her nose and touches the flower nearly swallowed by her hair. "Are you sure you don't want anything?"

"Well…" He pretends to think for a moment. "I'd quite like a kiss but you don't have to if you -"

She cuts off the rest of his words by tugging on his shirt and hauling him into her, kissing him with startling ferocity. He melts into her curves, hand inching up into her hair and feeling soft flower petals against his fingers as he opens his mouth and tastes the wonderful familiarity that is Alex. She hums softly against his lips, pushing him slowly until his back hits the counter behind him.

His hands settle on her waist and he struggles not to react as she presses herself against him. Even now, despite all the passion in her kiss, he can sense her holding herself back, doing her best to keep her promise to him. Dangerously close to forgetting all about that promise himself as she kisses him into a fuzzy state of unreality, Matt tears his mouth from hers gently and shakes his head, breathing ragged.

Cheeks flushed and lips swollen, Alex doesn't try to kiss him again, but she doesn't move away, keeping all those glorious curves pressed into him and making it very difficult to concentrate on anything else. "All that for a flower?" He asks shakily.

She smirks. "I like flowers."

He clears his throat. "Duly noted."

"Want to do something else nice for me?" She asks, using that low, sexy tone of voice that makes him shiver as she traces her fingers over his jaw.

He nods wordlessly, transfixed.

She turns from him, grabs something from the counter and pushes it into his hands. He glances down at it and frowns. A Chinese takeout menu?

"Order for me while I force Salome to take a shower?"

He gapes.

"Or, if you want to forget about your promise, we could make Salome order the food and you can force me into the shower."

Her smile is absolutely wicked as she looks up at him, as if she knows damn well neither of them will give in quite so easily.

He glowers at her. "You're a very cruel woman."

"You like it."

"Just be aware that you are definitely missing out. My hair-washing skills are immense."

"So are a lot of things about you," she whispers, leaning in perilously close once more and kissing him quickly, just managing to escape from his grasp with a smirk. She leaves him there, takeout menu in hand, half-hard and left wanting.

"Just like old times," he mutters, and reaches for the phone.

Matt doesn't like routine. It's part of what makes working on Doctor Who so much fun – he wakes up every day with something different to do, some new stunt to perform, new lines to learn. He likes a little variety in his days. But lately, he's gotten into the habit of telling Salome goodnight before bed and kissing Alex at the end of his day and he finds that it's a routine he doesn't mind in the slightest.

He slips into Alex's flat around ten and finds the living room dark, with only the glow of the telly to illuminate it. Squinting, he spots Alex curled up on the sofa and smiles, walking toward her and tripping only once in the darkness – definitely a miracle. Half expecting some sort of seduction routine he won't have the strength nor the willpower to resist, he perches on the edge of the sofa, surprised when he sees her staring mindlessly at the television.

He peers at her cautiously. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

She turns dull eyes to him and whispers, "Just a migraine."

He sighs and brushes the hair from her forehead. "Well watching tv in the dark isn't going to help." Reaching for the remote on the coffee table, he switches it off, plunging them into darkness. "Budge over." Alex sits up and allows him to slip in behind her and pull her back against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "Salome already in bed or should I tuck her in?"

He feels her nod against his chest.

"Did you take some aspirin?"

Another nod.

"Is it a really bad one?"

She whimpers quietly.

He tightens his arms around her and presses a kiss to her temple. "Too much stress and not enough sleep, Kingston."

"Not enough sex either," she mumbles.

He snorts. "This isn't some new and bizarre attempt to seduce me, is it?"

"Would it work?"

"No."

Well, probably not.

She makes another quiet noise of pain and he knows despite her light-hearted attempt to flirt, she isn't faking anything. Stroking his fingers through her hair gently, he says softly, "Close your eyes then. Just relax. I've got you."

Her fingers curl into the sleeve of his jumper and she turns her face into his chest, nuzzling into him like a cat. The amount of trust she's showing him right now is staggering and his arms tighten around her.

Heart so full he almost can't stand it, Matt holds her until she falls asleep, whispering all the while, "I've got you."

"Matty, do you know how to dance?"

Without glancing up from his script pages, he says, "Course I do. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

Not quite believing her but allowing her to ruminate for a bit longer, Matt turns his attention back to the words on the page and mutters to himself about Steven deliberately trying to trip him up. Not even two minutes pass before she speaks up again.

"It's just…"

Matt puts his script aside and takes off his glasses, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "What's the trouble, poppet?"

She bites her lip, looking oddly shy for someone so outspoken. "My school is having a father-daughter dance when I get back and my daddy said he'd take me."

Matt nods slowly, not quite getting it but willing to play along. "Well that should be fun."

She shrugs. "Yeah…"

He raises an eyebrow encouragingly. "Except…"

"Except I don't know how to dance and I don't want to look silly."

"What? You were kicking my arse at Dance Dance Revolution last night!" He claps a hand over his mouth. "Don't tell your mum I said 'arse' in front of you, please."

"Those games are different from real dancing." Salome gives him an appraising look. "And I won't tell. If you teach me how to slow dance."

He frowns. "You're good."

She shrugs. "Do we have a deal?"

He stands slowly, silently grateful for the break from his script, and holds out a hand to her with a smile. "It's a deal."

When Alex finds them in the middle of the living room, Salome standing on top of his shoes as they sway to the Temptations, she leans in the doorway, folds her arms across her chest and smirks at him. "Mind if I cut in?"

"He was teaching me how to waltz, Mum!"

Alex feigns concern. "Oh, you poor thing, are your toes alright?"

Matt glares at her. "I am perfectly graceful on a dance floor, Kingston. Like a swan."

She looks dubious, smirk still firmly in place.

Hopping off his shoes, Salome lets go of his hands. "Thanks, Matty."

"At your service, poppet," he says, bowing.

Salome laughs and curtsies, stepping aside as Matt holds a hand out to her mother. Alex reluctantly steps into his arms, looking unsure.

Determined to wipe that nervous expression off her face, Matt concentrates on being especially careful in his movements, twirling her around her living room like an expert. Before long, she relaxes in his arms and begins to laugh. "Teaching my daughter how to dance, bringing me flowers, sitting with me when I'm ill. You're becoming quite the domesticated housecat, Matthew."

He dips her just to hear her laugh again and murmurs into her neck, "I'm learning to like it."

Fiddling with his pencil, Matt frowns. "Good name for a Windy City nudist festival?"

"Chicagobares," Alex says without hesitation.

Exasperated, he scribbles in the answer and shakes his head. "How did you know that?"

"It was a bit obvious dear," she sighs, not looking up from checking over Salome's maths homework.

He doesn't go back to the puzzle immediately, chewing on his pencil and watching the way her curls keep falling into her eyes and her reading glasses keep slipping down her nose. She looks adorably frazzled and he resists the very strong urge to abandon his crossword and kiss her until that furrow in her brow disappears.

"Stop staring."

He blinks, flushing, and glances away. "Bard's river?"

"Avon. Are you actually trying with any of these or just asking me before you even think about the answer?"

"Well, I was thinking about them but now I'm just testing your wealth of knowledge." He writes in the correct answer and grins at her. "You're very sexy when you know everything."

She smirks and glances at him over the rim of her glasses. "Are you saying I'm sexy all the time?"

"You are sexy in a potato sack," he says, whinging slightly. "It's ungodly."

"Trying to flatter me back into bed?"

"Is it working?"

"Not yet."

"Geological time unit? Five letters."

She sighs. "Epoch."

He groans and stretches out on the sofa like a fainting maiden. "Shagging your clever, sexy self so hard in my head right now, Kingston."

Eyes on her daughter's homework, Alex bites her lip against a smile.

She texts with one hand, since he's far too busy kissing the back of the other one to relinquish it.

He watches her face as his lips brush her knuckles. The corner of her mouth twitches so he does it again, letting his tongue dart out to taste her skin.

Her eyes widen and rise from her phone screen to glare at him.

He blinks at her innocently and drops her hand.

With both of them free now, she finishes her text quickly and curls back into his side, head on his shoulder. He turns his face into her hair and kisses her curls. It's still a bit strange, being so openly affectionate with her without having to worry about her pulling away – nice, but strange. It wasn't that long ago that Alex would never spend time with him outside of a bedroom, let alone lie on his sofa and allow him to kiss her hand and nuzzle into her hair like the lovesick idiot he is.

"This movie doesn't make any sense."

Startled out of his reverie, he glances at her with a frown. "It makes perfect sense if you pay attention and stop texting."

Alex huffs. "I'm instructing Karen on how to politely walk out on her date."

"Out with another wanker then?" She hums and he nudges at her hair with his nose, kissing her ear. "And you're an expert on ditching your dates, are you, Kingston?"

"Mm." She turns her head and allows him to kiss her properly. "All but one."

"I'm very persistent." He tugs her phone from her hand and places it on the coffee table. "Now watch."

The peaceful silence lasts for all of five minutes before she shakes her head and turns to him. "A fake beard and he doesn't know it's his rival in the audience? He deserved to have his hand shot."

Putting a finger to her lips, he gives her a look. "Suspend your disbelief for another hour and I promise you'll like it, alright?"

"I still say we could have kept playing charades," she sighs.

Matt snorts. "Never again." When he'd suggested the game, he hadn't realized how scarily competitive Alex and Salome could get. "You were mean to me."

Laughing softly, she turns her face into his arm. "You tried to imitate Dolly Parton by pretending to be a cowboy and parting your hair down the middle. You deserved our mocking."

"You've ruined my self-esteem."

"Shush, darling. I can't hear the movie."

He makes an indignant noise. "You don't even like it!"

"I might. If you stopped whinging long enough to let me pay attention."

He growls and pounces, grinning when Alex yelps in surprise. Pushing her into the cushions, he kisses his way down her neck and across her collarbones until she relaxes under him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a sigh. She smells amazing and she's so warm and soft in his arms. It would be so easy to take this too far but he knows she isn't ready yet, that she'll let him know when she has decided to stay. So instead, he presses one last reverent kiss to her skin and tickles her. Alex shrieks and squirms and throws a pillow at his head in retaliation, gasping when he throws one back.

Having heard them, Salome runs out of her bedroom and an impromptu pillow fight ensues. It isn't quite the romantic evening he'd had in mind when he put a DVD in but somehow, he doesn't really mind.

Clumsiness is not sexy. It's ridiculous and silly, embarrassing and not at all attractive. Except when it's Matt who is being clumsy, and suddenly clumsiness is charming and adorable and all right, maybe a bit sexy.

When his manic enthusiasm coupled with his natural clumsiness causes him to break the Doctor's sonic screwdriver for the second time that afternoon, he freezes in place and stares at the piece that has broken off and fallen to the floor, like he can't quite believe what he's done. Scratching at his cheek nervously, he glances up with a rueful smile that looks more like a wince and says, "Erm… sorry. Again."

The long -suffering props master sighs and holds out his hand for the screwdriver. "Give it here, I'll fix it. Again."

Matt flushes and Alex feels her heart swell in her chest.

The director nods and scrubs a hand over his face. "Five minute break, then?"

As everyone disperses to go have a fag or catch up on text messages, Alex sees Salome take Karen by the hand and pull her away, so she wanders over to Matt and snags his wrist. He glances up at her in surprise. "Kingston?"

"Come with me," she says, and tugs him along until they're away from everyone else and fairly secluded in a corridor.

"What are we doing? Are you -"

"Shut up, darling," she murmurs, pushing him up against the wall forcefully. Any further questions he might have lodge unasked in his throat as he watches her, wide-eyed.

Ignoring all previous rules about personal space while in public, she presses herself against him so that he feels every curve of her body as she grips the lapels of his tweed coat in her hands, leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him. She kisses him the way she hasn't allowed herself to in weeks for fear of taking things too far – a hot, wet clash of mouths that ignites a fire in her belly she knows she'll have to take care of all by herself later. For once, she really doesn't care. She bites at his lip and sweeps her tongue through his mouth like she might devour him if given half a chance. He groans against her lips and grips her hips tightly, keeping her pressed flush against him as he kisses her back, letting her feel what the mere touch of her lips does to him.

They're breathing hard when she finally pulls away, releasing his jacket and stumbling backward. His lips are red and swollen, his hair mussed and his shirt rumpled. He looks so utterly fuckable that it's all she can do to offer him a cool smirk, correct her lipstick and walk away, leaving him gaping after her as she fluffs her hair.

When she makes it back on set, the pounding of her heart has lessened and the heat in her belly is a low, manageable simmer. She settles into her chair and feels rather smug as she thinks about the look on Matt's face, until Arthur settles into the seat next to her and mutters, "Wasn't expecting a show with my smoke break."

She turns her head and stares at him, eyes wide. "What?"

"Don't tell anyone," he says, whispering like he's confiding a dark secret to her, "but when it's too cold to smoke outside, I go into that toilet down that old corridor no one uses anymore and smoke out the window in there."

He raises an eyebrow at her and though he doesn't say another word, she knows he means the hallway she'd shoved Matt into to snog him senseless only moments ago. Realizing he must have seen everything, she curses under her breath. "Look, it wasn't -"

"You don't have to make up excuses," he says, shrugging. "I already knew."

She stares at him. "What? How?"

"Matt told me," he says.

Her eyes widen. "He did what?"

"Before you go bite his head off about it, he didn't mean to. He was nervous about meeting your daughter and just sort of gave himself away."

She sighs and drops her head into her hands.

"He just wants to make you happy."

"I know."

"He's trying really hard."

Alex bites her lip until it feels like it's going to bleed. "I know he is."

Arthur makes an exasperated noise in the back of his throat. "What else do you know? I mean, do you know how you feel about him yet?"

Lifting her head from her hands, Alex frowns at him. "I hardly think that's any of your business."

She hasn't spent a lot of time with Arthur – most of her scenes are without him – and though he seems like a decent enough fellow, with the dry sort of humor she can appreciate, he's quiet and mostly hovers around Karen or pesters Matt. They haven't actually had many conversations without the other two present and she certainly doesn't know him well enough to talk about something so personal with him – not when she isn't even ready to think about it herself.

"It is actually," Arthur crosses his legs and taps his fingers rapidly against his knee. "Because while Matt may be a bumbling idiot, he's also one of my best mates and he's completely besotted with you. I don't want him to get hurt."

Softening, because it seems they at least share a common goal, Alex glances away. "I don't want to hurt him. Why do you think I'm so hesitant about this whole thing? I care about him, Arthur, and I'm rubbish at relationships."

"But do you care about him?" He shakes his head and watches her curiously. "Because you're hurting him a lot more by keeping him dangling on a string like your bloody puppet. Just put him out of his misery and tell him you don't love him. Let him move on and find someone who doesn't have so much baggage."

Alex balks instantly, her very being rebelling at the mere thought. "I won't!"

"Why not? It's clear you're not in love with him and -"

"I am too," she snaps. "I love him more than I ever thought possible. How dare you -" She stops, the realization hitting her like a rather welcome and much needed slap in the face. Oh.

She loves him.

She loves his stupid hair and his soppy words and his bright grin. She loves the way he takes care of her, the way he makes love to her, the way he treats her daughter. She loves how happy he is in the mornings and how invested he is in his football team. She loves the way his fingers feel threading through her hair and that face he makes when he's trying her cooking and pretending it isn't wretched. She loves that he can't manage to finish a crossword puzzle on his own and that he is absolutely horrid at charades.

She bloody loves him.

Turning wide, tear-filled eyes to Arthur, she whispers, "Oh my god."

He smirks. "Just FYI, I expect a prominent role in the wedding or I'll be really insulted."

Overwhelmed, she leaps out of her chair and throws her arms around him, planting a noisy kiss to his stubbly cheek and not caring at all that she barely even knows him. "Oh, you wonderful, brilliant bastard." She pulls away to wipe at her eyes and Arthur offers her a crumpled tissue. Taking it gratefully, she sniffs. "I have to tell him. Where is he?"

All she can think about is every single time she treated him like his feelings didn't matter, that what he wanted meant nothing to her. And still he stayed. She tried to change him, turn him into something she thought she wanted, to erase all that childishness from him and corrupt him entirely. She likes that sometimes he's still a little boy at heart. She doesn't want to change that and she's sorry she ever tried. She used him, made him feel like nothing more than a good fuck and still, he hadn't left her. He has been miles ahead of her all along, head over heels and waiting as patiently as a man could for her to catch up.

"Maybe you should wait," Arthur says, still looking terribly smug. "He'll probably want to shag you right away and I'm pretty sure our break is almost over."

Flushing, she nods, mind still racing. "Right. Okay." She glances up sharply, eyeing him. "How do you feel about babysitting?"

there's no one else in the world

Chapter Summary

Alex is behaving strangely. All day, she has wavered between positively beaming at him or watching him with a guilty expression on her face and it's starting to freak him out.

Chapter Notes

It's the last chapter and I just want to thank you all for your lovely comments - they have meant so much to me! /GROUP HUG

Chapter title from Better Than Love by Griffin House.

WARNING: This chapter contains anal sex so if that's not your thing, feel free to skip over it - there's still pretty of smutty goodness to read:)

Alex is behaving strangely. All day, she has wavered between positively beaming at him or watching him with a guilty expression on her face and it's starting to freak him out. As soon as filming had finished for the day, she'd sent Salome off with Karen and Arthur and now she's leading him into her flat by the hand, looking nervous but still smiling at him. He's pretty sure she's about to either quietly murder him or make him a very happy man. It bothers him a bit that he honestly doesn't know which one.

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Alex presses him against it and kisses him – the same hungry, toe-curling kiss she'd given him on set earlier – and without the threat of people finding them out, he responds even more eagerly than he had before. Okay, so not murdering him then. Or if she is, she's doing it nicely.

He fights for dominance, holding the back of her head with one hand and plundering her mouth with his own. He presses his other hand into the small of her back and she melts against him perfectly, like her curves were always meant to fill the spaces against his own leaner frame. They are venturing into very dangerous territory – he has been longing for her touch, for more than just stolen kisses, and there is no one around to stop either of them from taking what they want. And the aftermath will hurt more than he can possibly bear if she decides she doesn't want him after all.

"Alex," he says roughly, protesting even as he trails his mouth hotly down her throat and listens to her sigh. "Are you sure? I mean, are you ready? Because I can't -"

She nods frantically, taking his face in her hands and waiting for him to meet her gaze. "I know what I want." She swallows. "I love you."

Those words from her mouth have been so long awaited that for a moment, he's sure he'd imagined it but Alex is looking at him so earnestly, her green eyes filled with tears and a smile threatening to overtake her lovely face, and he allows his heart to fill with hope. "What did you say?"

She laughs softly, absolutely breathtaking in her joy. "I love you, darling."

"You -" He raises his hands to cover her own smaller ones. "Are you sure?"

Rolling her eyes, she leans in and kisses him softly. "All this time waiting and now that I've finally said it you don't believe me? Typical."

"No, no," he says quickly, laughter bubbling in his throat. "I believe you, I just – I never thought you'd really say it."

Her smile turns a little pained and her thumb brushes over his cheek. "Well, I did. I can say it again if you like."

"Please."

She leans forward and brushes her soft lips against the hollow of his throat. "I love you, darling."

His grin threatens to overtake his whole face. "One more time."

She sighs patiently, and repeats herself, punctuating each word with a kiss to his throat. "I. Love. You. Idiot."

He laughs and the hope bursts in his chest and spreads through his veins to his fingers and toes, filling him up with something even better – certainty. Lifting her into his arms, he stumbles away from the door and spins her around with a whoop, delighting in the way she giggles in his ear and clings to him, trusting him to keep her safe.

As soon as her feet touch the ground again, he's kissing her like he'll never stop, backing her slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. "Wait, Matt, I need to apologize -"

"Nothing to apologize for," he says, kissing her again, and honestly, the woman has been trying to seduce him for weeks and now that he's taking her to bed, she's talking utter rubbish.

Pushing gently at his chest, she says, "There is, darling. You said it yourself – I made you feel awful. I -"

Sighing a bit and shoving away the memories she's resurrecting, Matt shakes his head and kisses her nose. "I don't want to talk about how you made me feel then, Alex. I want to talk about how you're making me feel now. Or more importantly, I want to show you."

She nods, yanking his head down to hers as she mumbles, "Talking can wait."

He carries her the rest of the way to her bedroom, focusing very hard on not tripping on the way there. He hasn't touched her in weeks and he'll be damned if he lets anything on earth stop him from rediscovering every wonderful inch of her with his tongue. And as tightly as Alex is clinging to him now and as frantic as her kisses are, he wants to take his time. It would be so easy to just have a really hurried, frenzied shag against a wall after how long they've waited to touch each other again, how many close calls they've had, how many nights they've spent lying in bed missing the other, but he thinks they've both learned in their time together and apart that sometimes being patient has its merits.

He strips her slowly, like unwrapping the best present he's ever gotten, and presses kisses to newly revealed soft skin. Alex doesn't even try to hurry him along, as if she wants to enjoy this just as much as he does. Or maybe she's remembering the last time she'd tried to fight against his tenderness. When she's standing before him with nothing to hide her body from him, it feels like he has stripped away the very last piece of her armor. She is hiding nothing from him now, not even her feelings, and he's so glad he never had the strength to walk away from her for good.

His hands won't settle in one place as he kisses her, stroking over her back, her waist, over her arse and hips. Alex arches into his touch and kisses him ardently, tugging him with her toward the bed. They fall onto the mattress together and he pins her hands above her head, tearing his mouth from hers to admire her spread out before him, nothing but bare, magnificent curves and a soft smile. She looks just as he'd imagined so often in the last few weeks, naked amongst her sheets and waiting for him. She chose him.

Watching him look at her reverently, Alex strokes her fingers over his cheek and he leans into the touch like a man starved for affection. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm never going to stop looking at you like this. Get used to it." She smiles and he turns his head and presses his lips to her fingertips. "I love you."

"But how can you, darling?" Her eyes fill up and he begins to shake his head. "I've been so careless with you."

"Stop it, Alex," he says, swallowing her protests in a kiss. "It doesn't matter. You didn't love me then and it -"

"I think I could have, if I would have just let myself."

"We're here now," he says, kissing his way down her throat and chest. "That's all that matters, sweetheart."

He swirls his tongue over her nipple and Alex arches into his mouth with a gasp. "God, I missed you."

Stroking his hand up and down her side and over her stomach, he scrapes his teeth over her breast and tries to convey that the feeling is entirely mutual without having to speak. He's rather busy at the moment sucking a bright red mark onto the underside of her breast. He could spend an entire day lavishing her breasts with attention, licking and sucking and nibbling, but Alex grows impatient with him before long, pushing gently at the top of his head with a whinge that makes him grin. Pressing one last kiss to the mark he has made against her fair skin, he settles between her thighs. She spreads her legs, draping them over his shoulders, the gorgeous, slick pink of her sex revealed to him. His mouth waters at the sight and the smell of her, warm and wet and tempting.

"So lovely," he murmurs, and leans in, eager to taste her and hear her moan. She quivers at the first stroke of his tongue and he groans, burying his face between her thighs to taste her again. The salty, sweet tang of her bursts on his tongue like the juice of some exotic fruit and he opens his mouth wide, hungry for her.

Above him, Alex gives a strangled moan. Christ, he has missed this. He loves it – loves making her tremble apart with only the stroke of his tongue, loves hearing her soft cries and the way her fingers curl into the sheets. She throws her head back, rolling her hips against his face as if she

can't ever get him close enough, deep enough.

When he raises his head briefly, lips slick with her arousal, he sees Alex palming her own breasts, the fullness of them too much for her small hands as she tweaks her nipples with clever little fingers, her eyes tightly shut and the most exquisite look on her face. It sends heat and desire rushing through him like a tidal wave and he presses his open mouth to her knee, nipping his way back up her thigh and to her throbbing sex while Alex squirms impatiently above him.

"God, yes," she sighs when he finally reaches her heat again, and she threads her fingers through his hair, guiding his movements with a tug of her hand and fuck if it isn't sexy as hell having her in control once more. He loves the heady feeling of being the dominant one but it's nothing compared to the peace that comes over him when she's the one in charge and Alex must sense it because she rubs her thumb tenderly over his forehead and murmurs, "Harder, darling, please."

He obeys instantly, sucking hot, hungry kisses against her cunt and closing his eyes to breathe in the musky scent of her and listen to the way she thrashes and sobs under his touch. Alternating between teasing kisses to her entrance and the hard, flat press of his tongue inside her until Alex is dripping wet and her cries are unintelligible, high-pitched shrieks, he slides two fingers inside her easily and watches her eyes widen, bright and glazed with pleasure.

"Talk to me."

He nips at her inner thigh and her breath hitches. "You're so close," he whispers lowly, "I can feel you around my fingers, so tight and hot. You're dripping, god, can you feel it, Alex? Can you feel how close you are, my gorgeous, lovely girl? Let go, sweetheart. Let me hear you." Pumping his fingers deep inside her and hyper aware of her every sighing breath, every buck of her hips, he ducks his head between her thighs and sucks her clit, swollen, red, and tight, into his mouth.

Alex screams, fingers tightening in his hair and her heels digging into his back as she comes undone beneath him. Her release floods his mouth and drips down his wrist onto the sheets, and he doesn't think he's ever seen her come quite that hard before. Licking the taste of her from his lips and sucking her arousal from his fingers, he watches Alex slide her hands over herself with a pleasured little sigh, as if Matt has lit some fire deep within and she doesn't quite know how to douse the flames.

Smiling at the sight of her, Matt bends his head and kisses her softly, his erection prodding at her hip as he cradles her face in his hands. Alex paws at his clothes, swearing under her breath until he laughs and pulls away to undress. She turns quickly onto her hands and knees, reaching into the bedside table for the condoms she keeps there. Fully naked now, Matt climbs back onto the bed and gives her bum a playful slap as she rummages.

He expects her to turn around and glare at him for being impatient but Alex surprises him by freezing in place with a choked moan. "Oh god, do that again."

He stares at her. "What?"

She turns to look at him over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip enticingly. "Please, darling."

He can't say that he hasn't wondered what it would be like, the smack of his hand on Alex's lovely, bare bottom but he'd had plans for tonight – plans to worship her until she couldn't stand up. But Alex is looking at him pleadingly, eyes wide and dark, and Matt knows that if this is the way she wants to be worshipped, he'll give it to her gladly.

"Like that do you," he murmurs, smirking, and she turns to face the headboard again, her arse wiggling against his caress. He raises his hand and the sound of his palm meeting her flesh is drowned out by her soft cry. "You've been a very naughty girl, haven't you, Kingston? Driving me mad for weeks with your kisses and your little nightgown, trying to break me."

She nods mutely, hands curling in the sheets as he spanks her again. "Yes, darling. I'm sorry – please –"

He watches in fascination as the pale skin of her arse turns to a deep shade of pink with every slap, darker and darker until the outline of his palm is clearly visible on her flesh, like a brand. He has marked her, finally made her his own in every way that counts, and the thought makes him impossibly harder.

"Look at you," he whispers and Alex whimpers. "So gorgeous." He slides his hand over her and then dips it between her thighs, surprised by how wet being handled so roughly makes her. She sighs at his touch, pushing back against him and he smacks her arse again for her impertinence.

"Oh god," she cries. "Please, darling. Please fuck me, it's been so long, please -"

Her thighs tremble around his wrist as he strokes his fingers over her slick flesh and jesus, the sound of her begging him is still so new, so utterly wanton. Sliding his hand from between her legs, he positions himself behind her and Alex pushes back against him with a soft moan as he fills her. Being inside her again is enough to bring tears to his eyes – she chose him, she chose this and he never really let himself hope she would – and he buries his face in the back of her neck as he moves.

"Love you," he whispers, and she shudders against him.

Sliding her hand back, she blindly cups his cheek in her hand. "I love you too, darling," she breathes, and he turns his head, kissing her palm. "Oh, more." As she braces herself with both hands once more, he quickens his pace and Alex gasps as his hips slap against her tender arse. "Don't stop, god…"

Sucking a red mark into the skin at her shoulder blade, he moves hot and hard inside her, so close to release after so long apart. Alex's breasts sway beneath her as they move together at a furious pace and he reaches around to cup the heavy weight of one. She tosses her head back and the scent of her hair suddenly mingles with the sex in the air and god, he isn't going to be able to stop himself – he's seconds from coming –

Alex reaches between her thighs and rubs frantically at her clit, sparking off her orgasm with a keening cry, and as her sex spasms around him, Matt spills inside her with a hoarse shout, his release as profound and life-affirming as any religious experience. He presses light, gentle kisses to her neck and shoulders until Alex melts into the mattress, panting against the sheets. She turns her head as he hovers over her, beaming as she brings his mouth to hers for a soft kiss.

"We are never going that long without shagging again," she giggles breathlessly and he kisses her again in agreement.

"I don't know, Kingston," he teases. "Waiting made it sort of spectacular – I think I'm developing a new fetish."

She swats at him. "It's always spectacular, you twat." He preens, pleased with himself, and Alex rolls her eyes. "Stop looking so smug and fetch me that bottle of lotion I use on you."

"That lovely arse smarting from your spanking, love?" He smirks and stumbles out of bed before she can swat at him again. He's so focused on watching her, looking beautiful and thoroughly shagged, that he almost trips on the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed, and Alex's giggle follows him out of the room.

She's lying on her stomach when he returns, her arse still red and very tempting. His fingers itch at his sides and he grins because he knows he doesn't have to restrain himself now. She loves him and she isn't going to get up and dress, leaving him to his lonely bed. She's warm and soft and waiting for him to come back. Careful not to trip again because as much as he adores Alex's laugh, he always prefers when it's not at his expense, he settles onto the bed and pours a generous

amount of lotion into his palm, rubbing his hands together to warm it up. She still shivers at the first touch but as he begins to smooth lotion over her tender skin, she moans and arches like a contented cat in the sun.

He tries to be as gentle with her as she'd been with him all those times she rubbed lotion into his smarting skin, but even as he keeps his hands tender and soothing, he can't stop them from straying. He slides his lotion-slick fingers between her arse cheeks, stroking gently, and when Alex doesn't protest, he applies a little more pressure.

She practically purrs, a soft noise of encouragement pulled from deep within her throat. He freezes, watching her shift restlessly. "Alex?"

"Keep going," she whispers.

Swallowing and well on his way to achingly hard again, he rubs her once more, waiting until he feels her relax before he slowly slips one finger past the tightness there. Alex moans, curling her fingers into the sheets, and he slips in another. Still, the only noise to escape her throat is one of eagerness. Curious as to how far she'll let him take this, he crooks his fingers inside her and listens to her gasp sharply, scrabbling at the sheets and rutting against the mattress in a useless attempt to find a little friction.

He swears, blood pooling rapidly in his groin.

Alex whimpers. "Darling, please. Get inside."

The words wash over him like liquid heat and he's suddenly harder than he's ever been in his life as he chokes out, "A-are you sure?"

She nods frantically, already lifting herself onto her hands and knees. "Yes, darling. I trust you – I'm yours. Please."

He presses his lips to the small of her back, overwhelmed and so, so in love. "If you're mine, then I'm yours, Kingston."

"Always." She glances over her shoulder and offers him a shaky smile. "Not going to let you go now, am I?"

There are no words in any language for how good it feels when he pushes his cock inside the tight, clutching heat of her arse, her cheeks still red and sore from his hand. He tries to go slowly, remembering how much it burned the first time Alex had done this to him with her rabbit, but she takes every inch he gives her eagerly, pushing back for more as he sinks inside her. He can't help but marvel that this woman loves him, she's beautiful and talented and sexy – an absolute wonder

– and she loves him. She trusts him with this and it means so much more than she will ever understand.

"Oh god, love," he breathes. "You have no idea how fucking amazing you feel."

Alex drops her head and sighs as he presses hot, open-mouth kisses to the skin of her back. "Tell me."

God, he loves how much she loves to hear him talk. So he tells her in a low, strangled voice how tight and hot she feels, how different it is from being inside the wet heat of her cunt, how utterly and completely he loves her and being inside her – any way she'll have him. As he talks, he keeps moving steadily and she rocks back against him, unsuccessfully biting back her moans.

"Oh god, there. Yes!"

He thrusts harder, slamming into her sore arse and her cries grow louder and more hoarse, her whole body tensing beneath his until he knows she's teetering right on the brink of release. Reaching around to slide his fingers deep inside her soaking heat, he grinds the palm of his hand against her clit and she shudders, coming with a sob and riding out her orgasm under the touch of his hand and the slide of his cock.

She drops to her elbows, pressing her face into the mattress and suddenly he's hitting deeper inside her than he ever has before, sliding furiously between her arse cheeks. Her fluttering muscles clench around him, pulling him in, clutching at him and her sex still throbs around his fingers. Oh god, it's so good, too good – the heat of her arse, the slickness of her sex, the soft grunting noises she makes as he moves, and he can't hold back any longer, spilling inside her with her name a desperate, loving cry against her spine.

He holds her in his arms as they collapse together to the mattress, breathing hard and completely spent, curled around each other. Her skin is warm and sweat-slicked as he slides his fingers over her, kissing her sweetly and loving the way she sucks his lower lip into her mouth and curls gentle fingers over his ears. He holds her tight, a bit terrified she'll change her mind and slip from his bed to dress but she doesn't, and after a while, his grip loosens. He relaxes, enjoying the afterglow with her in a way he never had the chance to before.

She's soft and pliant in his arms, nuzzling her nose against his cheek.

"You're a cuddler," he observes suddenly, and giggles.

Alex lifts her head to frown at him. "What's wrong with that?"

He tightens his hold around her just a bit and shakes his head, still grinning as he kisses her. "Absolutely nothing."

Pleasantly sore and fully dressed, Alex pins her damp hair up and away from her neck before stepping out of the steamy bathroom and leaving Matt to towel his hair to unmanageable heights. Smiling as she listens to him sing under his breath, she rummages through her dresser drawers until she finds a pair of the socks she'd nicked from his flat.

"I wondered where those went," he says, and she turns to see him leaning against the doorframe, his jeans still unbuttoned, his t-shirt damp and his hair a mess.

She glances down at the pineapple printed socks and purses her lips, telling herself that just because she's in love with the idiot does not mean she has permission to smile soppily at him all the time. "I like them."

"So did I," he snorts. "Paid thirty pounds for the bloody things."

"You paid thirty pounds for socks?" She gapes at him. "Why would you pay that much for one pair of socks?"

Crossing the room in two strides, he pulls her into his arms. "Because I knew one day I'd meet a bird who'd steal them and make them look attractive."

"Darling, loving you doesn't mean I'm going to fall for your rubbish lines," she laughs, and kisses away his pout.

In the other room, the door opens and Karen calls out, "Everyone decent in here? Don't want to scar the wee child for life!"

Matt rolls her eyes and calls back, "Shut up and come in, Gillan."

Almost instantly, Salome shouts, "Mum! Matty! Come see, come see!"

"Oh god," Alex sighs. "That sounds ominous."

"She's been with Kaz and Arthur for hours," he points out, tugging at a damp tendril hanging rebelliously in front of her eyes. "You should know better."

"Muuum!"

Alex groans and drops down onto the bed to pull on her socks. "Go see what they've done and if she has a tattoo that cannot be removed, you have my permission to murder them. I'll even help you hide the bodies."

"You do love me," he swoons, and she rolls her eyes fondly, watching him disappear down the hall with a grin. Seconds later, she hears his delighted squeak. "Oh this is so much better than a tattoo!"

Oddly enough, this does not ease her fears in the slightest and it's with much trepidation that she finally pads down the hallway and into the living room. Karen and Arthur stand by the door as if sensing they'll need a quick escape; Matt and Salome stand in the middle of the room, fawning over what looks like a small bundle of gray fur.

Alex turns her murderous gaze on Karen and Arthur. "Please tell me you didn't."

Karen holds up her hands, taking a step back when Arthur tugs her with him, pouting. "Oh come on, Alex! We had to keep her occupied somehow!"

"So you bought her a kitten?!"

Arthur winces. "We just took her into the pet store for a bit, y'know, after we got ice cream. But then -"

"She saw Melville," Karen interrupts.

"Melville?"

Salome glances up, beaming. "It's what I've decided to name him."

"Oh lovely, you've named him." Alex sighs and looks back at her daughter's co-conspirators. "What were you thinking? She's just a little girl, don't you know how to say no?"

"But she said please!" Karen looks at her with wide eyes and Alex knows she's fighting a losing battle. "And then she gave me puppy eyes! Have you ever tried to say no to her puppy eyes? It's voodoo."

"Come on, Kingston," Matt says, and she glances at him to see that he's cradling the kitten to his chest, his large hand dwarfing the thing and making it look infinitely more fragile. "How can you say no to a kitten?"

She could easily say no to a kitten – fur everywhere, a litter box, claw marks on the walls and mice on the doorstep – but Matt looks at her with those guileless hazel eyes that had done her in the moment she met him, the kitten's ear twitching against his chin as it purrs, and Salome tugs on her sleeve pleadingly, already attached and far too used to getting her way. It's them she can't say no to. Her family.

Sighing, she leans into Matt and touches the tip of her finger to the kitten's pink nose. Melville blinks at her, looking innocent and cuddly and he seems to be silently promising not to leave hairballs in her shoes.

"Oh, all right," she growls. "But this is not permission to turn our house into a bloody menagerie, alright? No bringing home strays, not even a fish."

"A stray fish?" Arthur frowns. "How would that even work?"

Alex points a threatening finger at him. "You're already on thin ice, young man – helpful epiphany or not."

Eyes wide, he grips Karen's hand and nods.

"Wait, I can really keep him?" Salome looks at her hopefully and Alex gives a reluctant nod. She squeals, throwing her arms around Alex. "You're the best mum ever!"

"Remember that when I ask you to clean the litter box, yeah?" She sighs, and Salome releases her to high-five Karen and Arthur.

Sliding his arm around her waist and still holding the kitten, Matt leans in close and mutters, "No more pets? Not even a rabbit?"

She glares at him briefly but he's grinning so brightly and he's holding a kitten for god's sake – she softens within moments. Undone by him and rather happy about it, she tugs his head down to hers for a kiss and he obliges only too readily. Squashed between them, the kitten mewls discontentedly. "Maybe just one."

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	5. Chapter 5

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/283997.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith, Arthur Darvill, Karen Gillan, Daisy Lowe

Stats:

Published: 2011-11-26 Completed: 2012-03-13 Chapters: 34/34

Words: 95634

 **It's Just You**

by BrinneyFriday

Summary

Alex Kingston has to be one of the biggest flirts that Matt Smith has ever had the chance of working with.

Notes

A/N: This is a collaborated effort with my best gal Britney. It's something we've been working on for months and we're just about finished with it now. Some details aren't quite accurate because of how long ago we started this, like the cast living in a building together during filming - something that has just recently come to light.

Disclaimer: Obviously, this is a work of fiction. We know nothing about the actual lives of Matt Smith and Alex Kingston, except for what we learned in the occasional Google search.

Prologue

Flirt [flurt]

-verb (used without object)

to act amorously without serious intentions -noun

person who flirts

-Related forms

flir - ta - tious : adjective

flirt - ing- ly : adverb

flir - ta - tion : noun

Alex Kingston has to be one of the biggest flirts that Matt Smith has ever had the chance of working with. It's merely an obvious observation and she does it with such an

unashamed comfortableness that he feels himself reacting in turn.

It's a natural thing for the actors on the set of Doctor Who to flirt with each other. Karen flirts with Matt, Matt flirts with Karen, Karen flirts with Arthur, Matt flirts with Arthur, etc. So naturally, when Alex first showed up for the read through of 'Time of Angels,' Matt had turned on his charm, sitting next to her and joking with her. He even went as far as to suggest her landing on top of him in the first scene they had together.

If he'd known then what he knows now...Nah, he wouldn't change anything.

Words are poisoned darts of pleasure

Chapter Notes

A/N - Previous chapter written by Brinney and this chapter written by Friday. Chapter title taken from the Franz Ferdinand song Darts of Pleasure. Also, for some reason, the rich text editor isn't work on this chapter like it was in the prologue, so sorry about that. Hopefully it's a problem that will clear up soon.

She's sitting so close.

Close enough that, if he just leaned in a fraction, his arm would be brushing against hers. He can smell the dizzying combination of the scent of her shampoo and her perfume. It's not abrasive, like most women he's been around. Sometimes he nearly gags when Daisy leans in too close – her cloying perfume applied a little too liberally.

But hers isn't like that.

It's just enough to tantalize – this lovely, floral fragrance that makes him want to bury his face in her glorious hair. Matt tightens his grip on his script to keep himself from doing just that.

He blinks, forcing himself to focus on the page in front of him rather than the distracting woman sitting so near. Amy and Rory are reconciling after the battle with the Silence, and Matt's heart turns over in his chest. The Stormcage scene is coming up and the subsequent kiss, and though he won't have to do it now, he'll have to once they're on set.

Last season, on his first day of filming, Alex Kingston had been there, looking lovely in a black ball gown and ever since she first threw herself into his arms and sent them both toppling to the floor of the Tardis, he's had a bit of a schoolboy crush on her. In that, 'older woman -ultimate fantasy-never going to happen' sort of way. When he first read the script for Day of the Moon and realized he was going to have to kiss her, he hasn't been able to be in the same room with Alex without staring at her mouth.

She sits next to him now, and he's hyper aware of every single move she makes. Right now, her eyes are intent on the script in front of her, curls falling into her eyes, mouth pursed, and Matt licks his lips. As if sensing his gaze on her, Alex's eyes slide in his direction and Matt glances away quickly, heart pounding. Forcing himself to keep his eyes on his script, he grits his teeth.

This is getting ridiculous.

It isn't a long kiss, and he's supposed to be horribly awkward for most of it anyway. He doesn't understand why he can't seem to get it out of his mind. This is hardly going to be his first onscreen kiss, and yet he's acting like a nervous freshman scared to death that his date might try to cop a feel.

"You could come with us," he says, coming back to himself just in time to speak his lines.

Next to him, Alex speaks, voice low and amused. Matt is so lost in his thoughts that when her hand accidentally brushes against his, he is so startled that he jumps in his seat, his script flying out his hands even as warmth floods through him from the top of his head to his toes.

Around the table, everyone laughs as he feels his face heat up in embarrassment. Next to him, Arthur makes a comment about his usual clumsiness and Matt has never been so grateful to be so ungainly. No one thinks twice when he has a spastic fit in the middle of a read-through – it's just Matt being Matt.

"Very graceful, Doctor," Karen remarks from next to Arthur, peering around him to grin at Matt.

"Shut up, Kaz," he sticks out his tongue at her. Not the best comeback but he's still flustered and blushing as everyone turns back to their scripts. He risks a glance in Alex's direction only to find her watching him with curious amusement.

His eyes meet hers as Steven talks for a moment about a small change in the writing four pages back, and as everyone around them makes a note of the new dialogue, Alex smiles apologetically and winks at him.

Matt swallows thickly as she turns back to her script, picking up her pen. Her voice is so quiet that he has to strain to hear her as she begins to scribble.

"Relax, darling, I don't bite."

Barely managing not to choke on his tongue, Matt snipes back in an effort to sound like himself – playful and teasing, not utterly humiliated and turned on. "Maybe I like biting."

When Alex doesn't look at him but smiles down at her script, Matt knows that he is so very screwed.

XxX

That night, they wrap things up a little earlier than expected and the crew plans an impromptu outing to a pub a few minutes away to celebrate a good day's work – really, they'll do anything to have an excuse to drink. Matt calls Daisy to tell her he'll be late coming home and she insists on meeting him at the pub rather than waiting for him. As much as Matt cares for Daisy, he hangs up the phone a little disappointed – when she's around, he doesn't get to spend the time he would like with his friends. Instead of laughing and drinking with Arthur, Karen, and the crew, he'll end up trying to make sure Daisy doesn't get bored.

He slips his phone into his jacket pocket and turns to look for Karen and Arthur, only to find them talking to Alex by the door. She usually skips out on their pub nights, and he can tell that everyone is trying to change her mind again. Smiling as she slides her arms into her coat, Alex laughs and shakes her head. Matt watches as Karen stamps her foot petulantly, her face the picture of pleading.

He makes his way over to them and when he's within hearing distance, Arthur turns to him, gesturing him closer. "Mate, tell her she needs a break like everyone else."

Matt reaches them and looks to Alex, brows raised. She rolls her eyes. "I need to get back to the hotel – Salome hasn't seen me since this afternoon."

Nodding in understanding, Matt shrugs his shoulders and glances at his watch. "Well, it's almost eleven. Even if you leave now, she won't see you until she wakes up in the morning." He winks at her. "C'mon Kingston, come have a pint with us. Then if you're still feeling like a rubbish mother, I'll drive you to your hotel myself."

He manages to keep his face relatively neutral, if a little teasing but the thought of being alone in a car with her isn't an unappealing one, nor is the thought of spending time with her in the pub.

Alex hesitates for a moment, glancing between Matt's encouraging eyes and Karen's pleading expression. She sighs and runs a hand through her curls. "Alright. One pint. One."

Karen beams and takes a hold of Alex's arm, leading her away and already chattering a mile a minute. Matt watches them go with a fond smile, and then turns to Arthur, ruffling his hair obnoxiously and dragging him outside by the neck.

XxX

In the pub, Arthur and Mark are having a dart competition while Karen and Beth hold up signs with bogus scores on them like negative 0 and 3 billion – Arthur gets an extra million points every time he misses and hits Steven in the back rather than the dartboard.

Matt sits slouched in a booth with Daisy, nursing a pint while she texts on her phone, leaning into his arm and not paying the slightest bit of attention to her surroundings. Matt sighs and takes a large gulp, drumming his fingers on the table to the beat of the Franz Ferdinand song playing in the background.

Eyes darting around the room, knowing who he is searching for even if he doesn't want to admit it to himself, he finally stops when he spots a head of wild blonde curls sitting at the bar, hands wrapped around a pint as she watches Mark try to throw a dart toward the board with his eyes shut. She breaks into delighted laughter when the dart ends up in Steven's drink and Matt can't help but notice the way her face lights up when she smiles like that.

Daisy elbows him gently and Matt hurriedly looks away, glancing down at his girlfriend. "Hmm?" He asks absently.

She smiles up at him, phone still open in her hand. "What are you looking so happy about?"

"Erm," Matt fumbles for an excuse and ends up shrugging. "Just watching Arthur slaughter Mark in darts."

Daisy laughs, and even as she responds, her eyes are back on her phone. "Mark's even more hopeless than I am– he only won when he played me because he cheated."

Matt makes a sound of agreement, eyes already turning back to the bar and narrowing in annoyance at what he finds there. A man who looks to be in his late forties is standing next to Alex, elbow on the bar as he speaks to her, smiling charmingly. Alex laughs politely at whatever he says, sipping her drink and nodding.

Fingers flexing around his glass, he stares at the man with a frown, wondering if he can feel Matt staring a hole through the side of his head. It's not the guy, really. It's just that one can't be too careful nowadays. The man is a stranger, and Matt just wants to make sure he isn't some sort of creep who likes to dispose of corpses in dumpsters in back alleys. Or, y'know, touch women inappropriately. Or at all.

The man – cropped hair, black t-shirt and jeans – looks like a normal, everyday pub guy but looks can be deceiving. Pub Guy leans in a little closer, and Matt looks intently for signs that his attention is unwanted, but Alex seems entirely receptive to him.

She smiles up at him – all teeth and curls and rounded, rosy cheeks – and Matt can do nothing but stare. Pub Guy reaches out a hand and tugs lightly on one of Alex's curls, smiling as it bounces back into place, and Matt feels a growl make its way up his throat.

Thankfully, over the loud pub music, no one hears it.

Who does he think he is, just reaching out and touching someone's hair? Especially Alex's hair – it's too magnificent to be handled with such carelessness. Who knows where his hands have been!

Pub Guy asks a question, if the furrow in his brow is any indication, and Matt watches as Alex shakes her head, her smile a little less bright. Pub Guy persists, and Alex looks apologetic but shakes her head again.

Matt tenses in his seat, ready to jump up and step in, if need be. 'Walk away, prick' he thinks, watching Pub Guy with renewed intensity. 'Walk away now.'

Suddenly, as if hearing Matt's silent command, Pub Guy raises his hands up in defeat with a small smile. He walks away, without Alex's contact information, it seems, and Matt feels his white-knuckled grip on his glass ease as he wills himself to relax. Glancing down at his sore hand and finally unclenching his jaw – when had that happened? – Matt realizes that he is so very, very screwed.

You touch me once and it's really something

Chapter Notes

For this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and Friday wrote from Alex's. Chapter title from Taylor Swift's Sparks Fly.

The first time he kisses her, they're being watched. There are crewmembers and actors standing around, directors telling them what to do, where to stand. Alex is listening intently, nodding at everything anyone has to say, and he's trying to do the same. He will not admit that he's truly nervous. No, he'll just play it off as acting.

"And, action!"

"Oh, shut up," she recites, and then her tongue is against his lips. He opens obediently, following her lead. His hands are fumbling and he knows this is what he was told to do. 'Be awkward, flail your arms about, you know.' The words have been ingrained in his memory since he got the script.

'Relax, darling, I don't bite,' he remembers her saying at the read -through. But she's actually kissing him. The Alex Kingston is kissing him and her tongue is doing this rolling thing in his mouth and he's not sure if he's living up to all her previous kisses. He hopes so, though he won't admit it.

Alex pulls back, still in character, and looks at him confusedly.

"What's wrong? You're acting like we've never done that before."

"We haven't," he says, and the truth of the words rings in his head.

"We haven't."

"Cut!"

He doesn't know why he's so relieved, but she laughs and he laughs along with her.

"Five minutes, then one more time!"

Alex links her arm through his and he guides her off the set.

"Something the matter, love?" She asks, eyes alight with amusement.

He shakes his head, a smile on his lips.

"Miss Kingston, you sure know how to kiss," he jokes. Though not really, because wow. Where had she learned that trick with her tongue? He's going to have to try it later, when he's alone.

"And you, Mr. Smith, are quite the kisser yourself."

He wonders if she's merely being polite, because he cannot seriously be that great, not in comparison to her.

XxX

For her, it's different.

She notices how attractive he is right off, of course. He isn't conventionally handsome – in fact, he's almost otherworldly in a lovely sort of way. He's so young and eager that at first, she feels almost protective of him, trying to fill David Tennant's shoes and looking adorably nervous doing so.

The second thing she notices is that he's a terrible flirt, and she enjoys his attention far too much. It doesn't mean anything, considering how friendly the entire Doctor Who cast is with one another, but for some reason, when Matt looks at her with that little half grin and hooded eyes, she feels heat pool in her stomach. She always walks away feeling a little breathless.

Funnily enough, it doesn't happen when Arthur smiles at her, or when one of the cameramen winks at her. Only with Matt.

The first time they kiss, it's on set and she's too worried about getting the shot right to be nervous. Alex doesn't really think about it much until it's actually happening. When she pulls Matt's mouth to hers and opens under him to caress his tongue with hers, she suddenly feels liquid heat rushing through her veins and she has to stop herself from letting out a little moan as she wraps her arms around his waist.

She'd told him during the read-through that she wouldn't bite, mostly just to tease him for looking so anxious. But now she actually finds herself holding back in case she scares him off – the poor boy probably doesn't want a woman old enough to be his mother sinking her teeth into his bottom lip, no matter how he flirts.

When the director calls for a break and Matt escorts her off set, her lips are still tingling.

XxX

Salome is a brilliant little girl, Matt thinks, and such a spitting image of her mother. He sits patiently in his living room waiting for the call he knows is coming.

It doesn't take long - Alex is nothing but punctual.

"Hello there, Miss Kingston!" He greets quietly, though enthusiastically. "How are you this… Well, right now?"

He listens to her chuckle, and even over the phone, it's beautiful. He screws his eyes shut. Not the thoughts to be having with your sleeping girlfriend in the next room over.

"Good morning, Mr. Smith," she greets and she sounds refreshed. He likes it when she sounds like that. It fits her. "I'm doing swell. You know you really don't have to do this for me, right?"

"You say that every time, and every time, I will say, 'Of course I know, but I love to,'" he answers quickly, voice still quiet.

She sighs and he smiles into his dark living room.

"Alright, one second."

There's a bit of shuffling and muffled talking, silence, and then, "Matty!"

"Good mornin', precious," Matt says with his best southern accent. He listens to Salome giggle in

his ear, warmth filling his chest.

"Guess what Mama and I are gunna do today!"

"I don't think I could. You two surprise me every time."

"We're going to paint pictures of the backyard with the new paint kit you got me. I wish you were here to help!" The young girl exclaims in his ear and he has to pull the phone away to prevent permanent damage. His grin never leaves his face.

"I wish I could be there too, poppet," Matt sighs, running a hand through his hair.

As the conversation continues on, Matt rubs at the ache filling his chest. Suddenly, his home doesn't feel like home.

XxX

While Alex dials the number she now knows by heart, Salome stands next to her, hopping about in her pajamas as she waits impatiently. She isn't quite sure how they got into this habit of phoning Matt in the morning but Salome now insists on talking to him before his day ends and hers begins. Matt indulges her whims far too often and Alex can't help but feel like they must be bothering him by now.

When he answers, he sounds happy to hear from her but she has to say it anyway, just like she does every time. "You know you really don't have to do this for me, right?"

Matt's voice is quiet but sincere as he answers just like he does every time she asks, "Of course I know, but I love to."

Sighing a little, she relents. "Alright, one second." She covers the mouthpiece with her hand and beckons an eager Salome over to her. "Don't keep him too long, love. He's probably tired."

Salome nods quickly and grabs for the phone, exclaiming, "Matty!"

Alex smiles, watching her daughter giggle at whatever Matt's response had been. She wipes down the kitchen counter, sticky with syrup from Salome's breakfast, and listens intently to her child's side of the conversation. She tells him about their plan to spend the afternoon outside with the paint set Matt had bought her, and at Salome's wish that Matt could be there to paint with them, Alex pauses in her scrubbing.

Soapy washcloth in hand, she stares at the countertop and thinks of Matt sprawled across her sunlit patio, Salome next to him, as they doodle silly pictures and end up with more paint on themselves and the patio rather than the paper. She pictures him glancing up at her with blue paint on his nose, sunlight catching in his hair and grin on his face. She blinks quickly to clear away the image, shaking her head.

When they head onto the patio later, it feels a little emptier than it usually does, but Alex ignores the strange ache in her chest and sits down next to her daughter to paint.

XxX

The second time they kiss, it takes her utterly by surprise. She's leaving to catch her flight back to America after her latest episode has wrapped up, and saying her goodbyes to the cast and crew. She lingers a little longer than usual when it's time to say goodbye to Matt, and she tells herself it's just because Salome hasn't finished saying goodbye to Karen.

She leans up to press a friendly peck to his cheek in farewell, but at the last second, Matt turns his head at just the wrong (right) moment, and their lips meet.

Alex can't keep her eyes from briefly fluttering shut in content before she catches herself and quickly pulls away, offering him an embarrassed smile.

"See you next time."

XxX

They're saying their goodbyes for now, as she has finished her scenes once again and is heading back to America. Alex is standing with him while Salome bids Karen a farewell. She leans up to kiss his cheek and he accidentally (or so he tells himself) turns his head and their lips touch. He watches in amazement as her eyes flutter shut, but then she's pulling back and smiling at him.

She says something he completely misses, because he's staring at her mouth. He coughs and smiles, ignoring the heat rising up his neck.

"Have a safe flight."

"I plan on it," she grins, motioning to Salome to join her.

He wonders if Karen noticed the kiss.

He doesn't care.

XxX

When Alex ends up having to reshoot a scene late into the night, Matt offers to watch Salome and she can only imagine the trouble the two of them got into unsupervised. She finds them in Matt's trailer just after midnight, Salome fast asleep in Matt's arms. The sight of it gives her that now familiar but still strange ache, and she feels herself melt a little at the picture they make.

Matt smiles softly when he sees her, his chin resting atop Salome's curly head. "Hey," he whispers.

"I can take her if you like," she says quietly, taking a seat next to him and stroking her daughter's temple tenderly.

Shaking his head, Matt tightens his hold on Salome. "She could stay here tonight, if you don't mind."

Alex thinks of taking Salome from Matt's arms and carrying her to the car, probably waking her in the process, just to drive to their cold hotel room and come back again early in the morning. She nods once, standing to find a pillow and bring it back.

Matt laughs at her, insisting that she and Salome take his bed while he sleeps on the couch. He's quite insistent about it, and when Alex crawls under the covers and scoots close to her daughter, Matt jokingly tucks her in and kisses both their foreheads. She laughs quietly at him, and whispers a soft goodnight.

But just as she's drifting off to sleep, she thinks that it's nice, being taken care of for once.

XxX

Salome is asleep against his chest. He brushes the stray strands of hair from her relaxed face and

smiles softly. That game of tag around the lot had really tired her out.

"I can take her, if you'd like," Alex offers, voice a whisper, as she sits down next to him in his trailer. He shakes his head, eyes intent on the older woman's face.

"She could stay here tonight, if you don't mind," he answers quietly, arms tightening around Salome's frame. Alex seems to hesitate for a moment, but she nods her consent. She stands and walks to the bed towards the back, grabbing a pillow. He sends her a questioning look.

"I thought maybe she'd sleep on the couch?" She asks, stopping in the middle of the room. He laughs, a quiet burst of air from his lips, and stands carefully.

"No, she can take my bed. It's no trouble."

Alex looks ready to argue, but he stops her with a quick shake of his head.

"You can stay, too, if you'd like. I'll take the couch," he offers, walking steadily towards the bed to lay the sleeping child down.

"I couldn-"

"Yes, you could, and you shall," Matt demands softly, pushing her back to the bed and taking the pillow from her hands. She stands there for a moment, looking at a loss. "Go. To. Sleep."

That night, with Alex and Salome in his bed in the trailer, Matt feels like he has a family.

It's hard to shake that feeling, because they're not his family.

But he wants them to be.

The way you move ain't fair

Chapter Notes

In this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and Friday wrote from Alex's. Chapter title from the Train song Hey Soul Sister.

Their third kiss is something new entirely.

They stop in the middle of filming 'A Good Man Goes to War' for a lunch break, and she sits with Arthur and Matt, discussing American tea versus English tea, for some bizarre reason that happens to be entirely Karen's fault, though she'd scurried off before a consensus could be reached.

When Arthur is called away for a moment, Alex turns to Matt, who looks like he hasn't been following the conversation at all. In fact, he seems to be staring at her hair. She smiles, waiting for him to notice her watching him. Finally, he blinks and his brow un-furrows.

"Okay there, dear?" She asks, entertained.

He starts to speak, clears his throat, and begins again with a flirtatious smile. "Not necessarily. Your hair is so distracting."

She laughs delightedly, a bit pleased and more than amused. Leaning closer, she reminds him, "You're the one who thought it'd be a sin against God if I even tried to straighten it."

Matt's face is so close to hers that she can feel his warm breath against her cheek. They're grinning at each other, and Matt says quietly, "And I don't regret it."

She feels her pulse tremble in her throat, and she swallows. Someone calls her name from across the set and she almost jumps, guilty and a little disappointed at the interruption. Sighing, she leans forward a fraction to move her foot from underneath her and suddenly Matt's lips are on hers – entirely accidental once again.

Her breath catches, and Matt doesn't pull away. Instead, he presses his lips a little more firmly against hers. She fights the urge to press herself closer to him and instead she nearly trips over herself pulling away as quickly as she can. She glances around the room anxiously but no one seems to have noticed. Breathing a small sigh of relief, Alex meets Matt's eyes again and he winks at her.

She laughs loudly, a little giddy and light-headed. When she walks away, she might just swing her hips a little, just for fun. It doesn't matter – it's only flirting.

XxX

Their third kiss is something he likes to think was all them. He knows it wasn't planned, nor expected, but it was purposeful, at least for him.

Lunch has been called on the set of 'A Good Man Goes to War,' before the take of the big reveal, and Alex is sitting down next to him as she and Arthur carry on a conversation.

Arthur sits across from Alex, hands folded over his knees. "Do you really think that?" He asks and he sounds completely enraptured.

"Of course I do," Alex confirms and Matt really has no idea what they're talking about. He continues to pretend to be paying attention anyway, because the way she becomes animated when she talks about something she's extremely invested in is so lovely. Her curls bounce around her flushed face and he doesn't think Arthur could be more enraptured than he is.

That's when he notices she's staring back at him and Arthur has wandered off. She's smiling that little secret smile of hers and Matt doesn't know what to do.

"Okay there, dear?" She questions him, voice light. He notices how her eyes sparkle with something he can't name and doesn't dare try to.

"Er," he starts, but he has to clear his throat first. He begins again, small smile on his face as he leans in, "not necessarily. Your hair is so distracting."

She laughs and he refrains from letting his eyes roll back at the sound. She leans in, too, smile expanding. He really likes her teeth.

"You're the one who thought it'd be a sin against God if I even tried to straighten it," Alex reminds him and he belts out a laugh, remembering. She had packed a flat iron in her bag, which was open when he'd wandered into the makeup trailer to see her. He'd demanded she never use it in his presence, only after preaching about the mystical properties of it.

"And I don't regret it," he says quietly, because now they're in each other's faces and smiling. It's truly a good thing that everyone on the set of Doctor Who doesn't know what personal space is or they might mistake this for something it isn't.

Even if he wants that something.

They hear her name being called from across the room and he notices her expression falters a bit, almost as if she doesn't want to be dragged away right now. He quirks a brow, motioning to where he can see Dave, the one who called for her, looking down at a sheet of paper and talking into a walkie-talkie at the same time.

That's when it happens. She's leaning forward to move her foot from beneath her bum, and their lips meet. It's chaste, but she gasps into it and he presses his lips firmly against hers. She's scrambling away as quickly as it happened, eyes frantically glancing at the people around them. No one's paying them any mind, so when their eyes meet again, he shoots her a wink.

Composure officially regained, Alex begins to laugh, shaking her head at his obnoxious flirting.

"Watch where you put those lips, love," she warns before turning away to head toward Dave.

He wants to shout after her. He wants to tell her he'll only watch where he puts them if he can put them on her.

That would be a stupid idea, so he doesn't.

Matt stands to get a better look at her backside as she walks away. She's got a really nice bum, he notices.

Like he does every time she walks away.

XxX

Alex isn't one to get nervous filming anything for Doctor Who.

Not really.

For one thing, she's done far more in front of a camera and with less clothing on. But when it's time to film the scene and she's going over her lines one more time behind the camera, her eyes find Matt leaning against Hitler's desk, tapping long fingers restlessly, and she feels her stomach flutter in anticipation.

Swallowing, Alex turns her mind back to the dialogue on the page in front of her. It's just a little wiggle, and then it'll be over and she can forget about practically sitting in his lap.

The director calls for everyone to get in place, and as Matt, Karen and Arthur shuffle into position, Alex bounces a little on the balls of her feet, nervous energy making it hard for her to sit still.

"Action!"

"The teeth, the teeth! The teeth! Oh, look at them!" She sprints over to Matt in her high-heeled boots, backing him up against the desk and leaning in close, purring, "Watch out that bow tie."

Matt's face is comical – eyes wide and mouth a taut line. She hears a sharp intake of breath from him as she turns in between the space between his legs, wriggling her bum against him. For a moment, she imagines his hands on her waist, pulling her closer – long fingers tight and forceful on her hips – before she brushes away the ridiculous thought and says, "Excuse me, you lot, I need to weigh myself. "

She pushes away from him and scurries out of frame, letting herself properly breathe for the first time since the scene began. As the director calls for a break, Alex turns and sees that Matt hasn't moved from the desk. He sits there with a stiff look on his face, fists clenched at his sides as Karen and Arthur begin to walk away, teasing each other.

Alex catches Matt's eye, smiling curiously.

The stiff expression doesn't leave his face, but he winks.

XxX

Oh God.

To say he was freaking out would be an understatement.

He glances at Alex, who is prepping her lines behind the camera, and oh God, he is so totally, completely freaking out.

Hitler's office is extremely large and very well done, but now that he has a moment to himself, his nerves are distracting him from everything around him but her, and the thought of their next scene together.

The thought of her body against his, between his legs and oh dear lord have mercy. How is he supposed to control himself? To say the least, Matt has come to terms with his attraction for her. What man in his right mind wouldn't be attracted to her? And after their shared kisses, no matter what the circumstance, denying the attraction would simply be a lie.

A huge, fat whopping lie.

So he breathes and mentally shouts at his body to stay calm, because if he sports any reaction to

her in that moment, she'll feel it and everything will be awkward and please, just stay calm.

"Mr. Smith, if you would take your place please."

The words sound muffled in his busy head, but he nods and moves to stand in between Karen and Arthur. Karen bumps his shoulder, and he manages to grin at her. He turns his head, eyes taking in Alex, who bounces on her feet to prepare, and he can't help but feel jealous at how she doesn't seem the slightest bit affected by what's about to happen.

"Action!"

"The teeth, the teeth! The teeth! Oh, look at them!" And she's running towards him and his heart is beating against his chest. Her chest brushes against his, just for a moment, and he has the perfect view down her top. "Watch out, that bow tie."

He can't necessarily say what he's doing with his face is acting. His legs part when she turns and her bum. Oh, her bum brushes against his crotch and when his mouth opens this next time, he has to stop the high -pitched squeak he knows he was about to make. He wants to grab her, and wow. The writers are really stupendous at writing his reactions, because, even without this being scripted, there is no way he'd be able to stop himself from flailing his arms about at her waist.

"Excuse me, you lot, I need to weigh myself." And she pushes off him and oh sweet heavens above, there is a God, because the moment her body is gone, his body reacts.

"Cut!"

Matt is half tempted to ask for a restroom break, but he supposes that would be a bit too obvious.

At least his coat is long enough to allow him some reprieve.

When he catches Alex's eye, in order to maintain some composure, he manages a wink.

She grins back at him, but she's panting.

'Probably just from running,' he thinks.

XxX

Days later, when they're filming for the last day at the venue, Alex stands next to Matt in her Nazi jacket and fuzzy robe, waiting to start the next scene – a healing kiss between the Doctor and River.

"You're brilliant," Matt is saying, laughing, and Alex looks up to see him already staring back at her.

Bless, it's one of the best parts of her day – coming in to work and actively flirting with a man in his twenties. When else does a woman her age get to do such a thing?

Mrs. Robinson, indeed.

"I am only what you make me, dear."

Though he usually encourages physical contact between them – hugs, pinching, a hand ruffling her hair after the hairdresser has just finished with it - Matt tenses when she puts a hand on his arm. Alex raises an eyebrow, but she removes her hand and says nothing.

She has enough to worry about as it is soon enough, with Matt sprawled across a marble staircase

in front of her. It's hardly their first kiss, either on set or off but no matter how many times she kisses him, it always feels a little like the first time. Butterflies in her stomach, the overwhelming urge to draw him closer, to crawl into his lap and just live there.

Trying to push away thoughts of Matt's lap – especially after that scene days ago, still fresh in her mind – Alex kneels before him. Eyes closed and peaceful expression on his face, Matt looks like he'd decided a marble staircase was a good place for a long nap, and she feels a little like the Prince in Sleeping Beauty as she leans forward and brushes her lips with his.

Matt's mouth opens under hers and when she slips her tongue inside, she hears him let out a quiet moan that goes right through her, leaving warmth pooling low in her belly. It's frightening how easy it is to forget about everything around them and just think about his mouth – hot and slick against hers. She gasps softly, letting her teeth graze his tongue when he pushes his mouth more firmly against hers, like he wants nothing more than to be able to move his arms, to grip her hips and flip them over, to dominate her completely.

She shivers against him, barely stopping herself from letting out a small whine, and Matt nips at her bottom lip.

"Cut!"

Alex wrenches her mouth from his, more than a little breathless and suddenly aware of their surroundings once more as the bustle of people on set makes its way to her ears again. As Matt stares up at her, lips red and swollen, looking dazed, Alex tries to blink away the colored lights dancing behind her eyes.

XxX

Their last day shooting at the venue for Let's Kill Hitler, Matt stands with Alex as they wait to be given stage directions.

"You're brilliant," he laughs, eyes on Alex. They are about to film the second kiss, one of the most important scenes of this episode.

"I only am what you make me, dear," Alex grins, placing a hand on his bicep. He tenses, hoping she doesn't notice. She does, of course, and quirks a brow.

He is so nervous to kiss her again. There have been accidents and acting, but their last kiss (as required by the script) was a simple peck. But this kiss needs a little more than just a quick press of closed lips together, he knows, and as he takes in the face of his tormentor, he can't help but think today won't be as easy.

Maybe his position on the hard marble stairs will keep his reaction to a minimum. He doubts it, especially since the mini-lap dance she gave him was still ingrained on his memory like it happened five minutes ago. It very well may have.

It's not long before they have him sprawled out across the steps, and maybe, he thinks, this won't be so bad.

It had been stupid to hope because as her face comes into view and the director yells 'action,' everything but her mouth leaves his mind.

Her kisses always leave him intoxicated and this time is nothing different. Her lips move in perfect sync with his and he doesn't really feel the marble anymore. He lets a small, quiet moan escape his mouth when her tongue slides against his and he can feel her gasp lightly. Her teeth scrape against his tongue when he pushes for dominance, even though he probably shouldn't, and it's new. No

one's ever done that to him, not even Daisy.

Daisy.

Oh.

So long I've waited for this night

Chapter Notes

This chapter written entirely by Brinney because writing sex freaks Friday out. Chapter title from Usher's Do It To Me.

For a while, he avoids Alex whenever she's around. He still takes her calls in the night, because he can't bring himself to cut ties with the young girl who he absolutely adores. Alex seems to notice the back off and goes with it, only speaking to him when necessary.

He tries to spend his time focusing on his girlfriend. On Daisy Lowe, the woman he is in a monogamous relationship with. He spoils her with presents and even mentions marriage to her.

His heart just isn't in it. He holds her in the night and imagines she's curvier than she is. He kisses her and there's something missing. Her tongue is just so submissive to his. He thinks of the challenge Alex provides him and ends up having to break the kiss with the excuse of needing to use the restroom.

It's not until Alex is back in town to work on 'Closing Time' that he breaks down. He's so used to seeing her when she's here, but their scenes don't overlap. She's so close to him, yet so far away. He gets the info on where she's staying from a crewmember, under the pretenses of visiting her and Salome to say hello.

Salome isn't with her this time around.

He goes anyway.

Matt knocks on her hotel room door, limbs fidgeting as he waits for her to answer. It's not long before she does and he's greeted with the sight of her in nothing but a robe, hair pulled back from her face. He pushes in and she allows him to pass easily, shutting the door behind her. She's standing with her back against it while she watches him pace in front of her.

"I can't get you out of my bleeding mind," he finally says, stopping to look at her fully. His eyes are hooded, and Alex feels warmth pool in her belly. The same warmth she feels whenever they're close.

"Matt," she starts, but he's in her face a moment later, breath hot on her cheeks.

"I want you, Alex," he admits and his gaze is so intense that her breath hitches in her throat. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll leave."

"I-I.. I can't," she whispers and she looks so startled, so frightened from this exchange. This is nothing like the innocent flirting they take part in, nearly every time they're together. Though, was it really innocent when they were both thinking about it?

About this, right here, because now his mouth is slanting across hers, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip and there's no one around to catch them. There's no acting involved and this is definitely not an accident.

"You have a girlfriend," she whispers against his lips. She's not stopping, he notices, and he forges on. His hands slip beneath her dressing gown and he groans when his fingers touch bare flesh.

"I don't care," he mumbles as his hand splays across her stomach.

"I'm twenty years your senior," she tries again, but it sounds like she's trying to convince herself to stop more than him. His jacket is bunched in her fists and Matt silently moans when she pulls his body tightly against hers.

"I don't care," he reiterates, tongue sliding out the moment the words leave his lips. He licks at her bottom lip and she opens immediately. The kiss is rushed, all tongues and roaming hands. He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders, tossing it to his left, and then his hands are on her stomach again. Her robe has fallen open in their frenzy and he pauses, taking in the golden skin before him.

She's tugging at his jeans, fingers nimbly undoing the button. His lips are on her neck when she slides his zipper down, pulling him from the confines of his boxers. His hips thrust into her hands uncontrollably and he has to stop her before this ends way before it begins.

"Wait," he gasps, tugging at her wrists. She stops, chest heaving against his. He backs away from her, watching as her face flashes with confusion before understanding dawns. She follows him silently, letting the white robe fall from her body and his breath hitches. He's seen her naked before, though he can't be bothered with feeling guilty for watching that film. It honestly didn't do her justice. He reaches the bed, stopping his movements as she continues to advance.

With a quick tug at the hem of his blue tank, it's over his head and on the floor in seconds. Then he's kicking his boots off, allowing his jeans to fall to the floor around his feet, kicking them off into an unknown direction, followed by his boxers. She's against him in moments, and the unified moan that echoes between them is loud and uncaring as their bare flesh meets. Her hardened nipples brush across his chest and Matt pants, tugging her head up to initiate another kiss.

Alex pushes him down onto the bed, falling with him, and some loose curls tickle his flushed cheeks as she takes control of the kiss, slipping her ardent tongue between his open lips. She's grinding against him unabashedly, and he has to grip her hips to keep from losing it completely.

"Alex," he grits out, shoving her over so that he is on top.

"Hurry up," she demands, legs widening to accommodate him. He settles in quickly, sliding against her in a frenzied rhythm. The moans that escape her fascinate him. He licks at the roof of her mouth, not really kissing her, and she sucks on it earnestly. His eyes roll back in his head at the sensation, but he pulls back.

"Condom," he whispers as she bucks against him. She shakes her head, reaching between them and grabbing a hold of him, so that on his next thrust he's inside and holy hell.

"Oh, god," she moans, head thrown back against the mattress. Matt pulls her leg up by her knee, holding it against him as his hips pull back and thrust in quickly. He's breathing heavily against her chest, back arched as his hips snap back and forth. He takes a perky nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. She screams into the dim hotel room, gripping his shoulders tightly.

He readjusts himself quickly and on the next thrust, his abdomen is grinding against her neglected clit. It's enough to have her biting at his bicep, muffling the sweet sounds coming from deep within her throat.

He can't help but notice the difference between her and Daisy in that moment. Whereas Daisy is loud and high-pitched, Alex is low and deep. The moans of a woman who knows how to take advantage of pleasure, who knows what to do with it. He switches his attention to her breast, hiking her leg higher against him.

"Fuck, Matt!" She exclaims in the next instant, clenching around him, hard, as her head whips back and forth. He bites down gently on the underside of her breast, thrusting harder, without rhythm.

It doesn't take long for him to reach his climax, his teeth sinking into her soft flesh once more. His body stills above her and he has to pull out as her wet heat continues to clench and release repeatedly, the sensation too much on his oversensitive, sated member.

He rolls off of her, collapsing on his back. They lay in silence, regaining a sense of reality. The weight of what just happened hangs over them and he wonders if he'll be able to kiss her on set again without sporting an obvious reaction.

"This changes everything," he hears her say. His head lolls to the side so he can look at her. She's staring up into his face, all seriousness, aside from the betraying grin that teases her lips.

"Oh, but it's brilliant," Matt teases, rolling over to lie on top of her again. She squirms, trying to scoot away from him as his fingers begin to tickle her sides.

"Just because I just had sex with you doesn't mean it's going to happen all the time," Alex says between laughs, kicking at his legs.

"You lie!" He mock-gasps, kissing her quickly before turning his attention to her throat.

"Oh," she moans, "I so lie."

"Get off me," Alex grumbles. She pushes at Matt, who is half on top of her, and her bleary eyes search for the alarm clock.

3:02 AM

Two hours until she's needed on the set. She pushes at Matt again, who hadn't even budged at her last attempt. His hand tightens around her hip as his thigh pushes between hers.

"What?" He murmurs, burying his face further into her hair.

She relaxes into the mattress, curling herself into the young man who so obviously doesn't want to get up.

"I need to be on set in two hours," she informs him, kissing his neck softly. He sighs into her hair, turning his face to kiss her. She responds immediately, opening to his probing tongue. His hands begin a purposeful slide down her stomach, but she stops him, breaking the kiss. "None of that."

"Why not?" Matt whines. His eyes are half open as he looks at her, petulance etching his features.

"You are such a child," she laughs, successfully pushing him off her. She sits up and runs a hand through her thoroughly tousled curls. When she moves to stand, Matt snatches her wrist and she glances curiously back at him. He's grinning like a mad fool and quickly captures her lips between his. This time, when they break apart, she's not so sure she wants 'none of that.'

"Yeah," Matt agrees, coming back to her previous statement, "but this child rocked your bloody world."

His hands are roaming her body, stopping to tweak just the right places and she moans. She has to stop him, she knows, or she won't make it to the set on time, but it's so hard.

At the thought, she laughs out loud, eyes focusing on his erection. Confused, his hands stop and he pulls back.

"Want to share with the class?" He inquires, caressing her neck. She takes the opportunity to scoot off the bed.

Standing, Alex stares down at him, highly amused. "Nope. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go take a shower. And before you ask, no, you cannot join me."

Matt pouts, lying back on the bed with a dramatic sigh. "You are too serious. I could get you off-"

"Hush, darling. I will not be persuaded."

He glances from the ceiling to her, biting his lip to contain a groan as she bends over to dig through her bag.

"I should probably get going anyway," he manages, climbing out of the bed. She turns back to him, shower supplies in hand, and offers him an understanding nod. Too tempted, he strides over to her and kisses her softly. She moans into his mouth when his hands slide around her hips to pull her to him.

"Balls to it," she breathes, tugging him with her to the bathroom. He grins, swatting her bum. She glares back at him, continuing, "but you have to leave right after. Understood?"

"Understood, ma'am," he agrees with a salute.

Three hours, forty-seven minutes later, Alex finally makes it to the set. Showering with Matt is definitely a bad, bad idea. By the time they had exited said shower, she'd needed another one. Not that she got one, because he had managed to distract her, again, for a quick romp on the bed. And a quick make-out session in the hall, then another at her car.

She hopes today doesn't take long.

But you pay me no attention

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It feels like she's avoiding him. He knew it would be awkward, if only a little bit, after what transpired between them, but he didn't think she'd outright ignore his existence. He'd even called her to make sure they were good. Maybe she had lied when she'd said yes. He tries to shake off the discomforting feeling that comes with the thought, and makes an effort not to look at her, since she so obviously isn't looking at him.

It doesn't work, of course.

Not when she's standing right in front of him on a break, sipping from a cup and laughing that laugh. The laugh that had enveloped them in the shower, when he had run his fingers up her sides teasingly. The laugh that had accompanied her leg wrapping securely around his hip and dragging him in closer.

As if sensing the course of his thoughts, Alex looks in his direction, mouth mid-laugh, and he fights the urge to pull her to him and kiss her until he forgets his own name.

As the day continues on, that urge grows. No matter the distance between him and Alex, he wants to tug her away from everything, hide out with her in his trailer and just have his wicked way with her.

Or hell, spend five minutes with her. Just five minutes, alone.

He doesn't know how working with her is going to be simple anymore, and he kind of looks forward to not having to pretend around his friends. The break in filming Doctor Who could not come sooner.

But then he thinks about the distance, the space between England and America, and he dreads it. At least here, pretending he hasn't been inside her, buried so deep, he can still be around her, see her twinkling green eyes and just bask in her.

He watches as she interacts with Karen and Arthur, a safe distance away from him. They're seated

around a picnic table outside, eating lunch. He wonders if it's obvious to their friends how much time they haven't been spending together on set, especially since this episode revolves around the relationship their characters share.

They're usually flirting and touching, but that seems like too much of a feat now, considering where they've been with each other.

What they've done to each other.

The three of them are laughing about something, and Matt wishes he were over there. He wishes he was apart of whatever they were talking about, but he can't muster up the courage to wander over in their direction. Not when he's staring at Alex's cleavage, so perfectly displayed in that costume, and wishing for that night, weeks ago.

If this is how working with her is going to be from here on out, he wonders if it's worth it. He wants to just come out with the fact that he's been with her so intimately. He wants to leave his girlfriend and spend days with Alex, and her daughter. He wants to talk to Karen about how fantastic he thinks Alex is, and tell Arthur all the naughty details of their relationship.

Is it even a relationship?

They'd only had sex, well, countless times, but in the span of one day, and he wonders if he could simply see it as just that. As just sex between two friends or an affair between coworkers. Is he a bad person for thinking about leaving his girlfriend? He glances at Alex again and thinks, no, he isn't.

Who could be when being teased by the magnificence that is Alex Kingston?

"Matt, are you listening to me?" Steven asks, waving his hand in Matt's face. Matt blinks, looking back to his employer and friend, and realizes he hadn't been listening to anything the older man had to say.

"Sorry," he apologizes, taking a sip of his water before turning back to Steven. "What were you saying?"

"This is the biggest episode of series six, and my cast is spending their time daydreaming. You know, if you lot continue to ignore everything I have to say, this is going to be a disaster," Steven

chides, and Matt wonders who else has been accidentally ignoring him. He glances at Alex, a grin lighting his face, before looking back at Steven.

"Well, it is lunch time, sir," Matt explains, motioning his hand around. "Everyone needs a break now and then."

Obviously exasperated, Steven huffs and walks away, and Matt has to wonder if he should have handled that with a little more finesse. It wouldn't be good to lose the most amazing job he's ever had because he's fantasizing about a woman.

A woman.

Hah. As if Alex Kingston was any woman.

He looks back over to the picnic table, watching as Arthur gives Alex some of his crisps, and he smiles at the relationship the three of them have established.

The whole family dynamic between them is one of the most natural things he's ever seen, and slightly humorous, considering the age gap.

"I'm twenty years your senior."

A shudder lances through him as he remembers the breathless words that caressed his lips in an attempt to stop whatever they were starting.

Deciding on a course of action, Matt throws his cup in the trash and moves towards the picnic table.

He'd be damned if she was going to ignore him for the rest of the day.

XxX

It's weird.

Obviously, it's bound to be weird at first, but for some reason, she didn't expect it to be. On set, it's difficult to look at Matt and interact with him like she usually does without thinking of his teeth sinking into her neck, or his hands leaving bruises on her hips, or how he feels when he's inside her. More often than not, she finds her thoughts drifting toward what happened in her hotel room that night, and it brings a strange little smile to her face every time.

She can't escape the paranoia that someone might somehow hear her thoughts or comprehend exactly what her smile means. It's ridiculous, but it's the sort of paranoia that comes with starting an affair with a co-worker, especially one as high profile as Matt. The prospect of someone finding out what they're doing is both terrifying and thrilling. It certainly makes things more exciting.

However, for the first time in a long time, Alex is unsure of herself. After that night (and morning) in her hotel room, she has spoken to Matt only once on the phone. He'd asked her if they were still okay, and she'd said yes. Then he'd asked her if she wanted things to go back to normal, and she'd said no. She could practically feel him smiling through the phone. Alex had been in America then, but now, back in England filming for The Wedding of River Song, it feels different.

New and strange.

She doesn't know how to act around Matt, or whether she should interact with him at all on set. He's the one with the girlfriend to worry about, so she wants to wait for his cue. Would it look suspicious if she didn't flirt with him like usual? Or would someone be able to tell that something is different between them?

Their flirting was naughty before, but now, she thinks it might be positively obscene. To her, their every glance practically screams 'we had sex!' but perhaps that's just because she remembers it so vividly. To everyone else, it probably isn't so blatant.

In her uncertainty, Alex spends most of her day trying not to stare or stand too close. Instead, she tries to keep her thoughts from somehow projecting to everyone else and hangs around Arthur and Karen lot more. She calls them 'dad and mum', the novelty of which has yet to wear off for any of them. They amuse themselves by saying things like, 'Thank you mum' and 'Please pass that pen to my daughter' and 'Dad, will you buy me a cupcake?' At one point, Arthur tries to ground her for swearing and Karen smacks him for being too harsh.

Alex sits with them at a picnic table outside for lunch, all of them still in costume as they enjoy the warm weather. A slight breeze ruffles Karen's scarlet hair and sends curls tumbling into Alex's eyes and they send each other exasperated smiles as Arthur theorizes about what Steven has

planned. Alex doesn't understand why he bothers – only Steven could possibly comprehend what goes on in his head.

"Do you think they'll ever write in a father to son-in-law talk?" Arthur asks, munching on a crisp. "I want to tell Matt not to bugger things up with you."

Alex chokes on a gasp. Karen pats her on the back, pushing a bottle of water in her direction, and Alex feels her fondness for the girl grow with every new maternal gesture. Karen practically lives her role.

"Oh, that would be so cool!" Karen says. "I'd like to see that, actually. Talk about awkward. You should totally bring out the sword."

"I know, right? Badass."

Taking a swig of water and recovering herself, Alex clears her throat and says nothing. Arthur shakes the bag of crisps in her direction, offering her some. She shakes her head no, but he pours a handful onto her napkin anyway. Alex rolls her eyes. "I think you're taking this parenting thing a little too far."

Arthur laughs and Karen says, "Just remember to take little bites, honey."

Before Alex can tell them exactly how much she hates them, Matt slides into the space next to her and nicks one of her crisps. She lets out yelp of surprise and jumps away from him.

Matt smiles, looking proud of himself as he pops his stolen crisp into his mouth. "Hello."

"You scared me to death," she says, scowling as she scoots her napkin of crisps away from him.

"Sorry," he says, sounding quite the opposite.

Alex wants to kiss that smug expression from his face, and the moment she catches herself thinking it, she hurriedly glances away from him. "Don't touch my crisps," she says instead. "Dad gave them to me."

"That's right," Arthur says, and winks at her.

XxX

As soon as she's able, Alex slips away from the picnic table and leaves Matt with Karen and Arthur. She hasn't made it far when she hears booted footsteps behind her, and she'd recognize that gait anywhere. Turning quickly on her heel to face him, she yelps when he nearly runs straight into her.

Steadying both of them with hands planted firmly on her hips, Matt grins. "You are spending entirely too much time today screaming for the wrong reasons."

She punches his arm and hurriedly steps out of his grasp, glancing around. Thankfully, no one else has finished lunch yet. "What are you doing following me?"

Matt frowns. "Well, I was planning on snogging you senseless in my trailer. Is something wrong?"

Alex ignores the thrill that runs through her whole body at the thought of kissing him again, glancing around once more. "I just…don't know how to act."

"What do you mean?" He asks, brow furrowed. "Just act normal."

"Well normal doesn't feel normal anymore. It feels suspicious!"

Matt laughs. "The only thing suspicious is you avoiding me all day and jumping out of your seat when I sit next to you."

Alex arches a brow at him. "Sounds familiar."

Matt blushes. "You made me nervous, Kingston." He rubs at the back of his neck, regarding her hopefully. "So…you aren't changing your mind about this?"

Is she? She's had a couple weeks to clear her head, to think about this from an adult angle and decide that this is a ridiculous idea that can only end in pain and/or humiliation. Does she really want to put herself through this? This sort of thing is over before it starts, and she knows she's just being reckless.

She only has to say so, and Matt will back away. He'll walk off and they'll try their best to maintain a professional working relationship and eventually, the awkwardness might go away. But the thought of never getting to kiss Matt again (unless set kisses count) or feel his hands on her, the thought of just letting this go…She doesn't want to.

"No," she breathes, staring up at him and licking her lips.

Matt's answering smile is slow and brilliant. It doesn't take much effort to lean up and press her mouth to his, wrapping an arm around his neck and drawing him down to her. He opens his mouth over hers, returning her kiss eagerly and sliding an arm around her waist to pull her body into his. Alex whimpers, reaching a hand up to cup his cheek and brushing her thumb against the stubble she finds there.

The warm breeze fluttering around them reminds Alex that they are not in a trailer or a hotel room right now. They are outside, and anyone could walk by at any second. "Wait," she pants, pulling away.

Matt begins pressing kisses down her neck. "What?"

"We need to talk first."

"Talking's overrated."

"And we are outside," she pushes at his chest and he relents. "Now unless you want someone seeing us and taking photographs, I suggest we go to your trailer and talk, hm?"

"Such a killjoy, Kingston," he mutters, slipping his hand into hers to drag her along.

Alex pulls her hand away and he stares at her. "What? Someone could see."

Matt sighs. "Would you like to follow six steps behind me as well? Shall I go out and buy you glasses and a fake mustache?"

"Don't be cheeky," she says, and strides past him, leading the way to his trailer.

Once they're inside with the door firmly shut behind them, Matt drops down onto his bed and looks up at Alex through his lashes. "Alright, what do you want to talk about?"

It's difficult to think properly when he's looking up at her like that, still in his tweed jacket and splayed out on the bed like he hasn't a care in the world. Refusing to let herself be distracted, Alex turns away from him to sit as far from him as she can get.

"We need rules."

"Rules?"

"Boundaries," she amends.

Intrigued, Matt sits up, straightening his coat. "What kind of boundaries?"

"Well," Alex glances out the window and sees Karen and Arthur walk by, arm in arm. "I think we should agree right now that this can't change anything."

"Of course," Matt says. "On set, we're strictly professional."

"I don't just mean on set," she says. "I mean our everyday lives as well. I have Salome to think of and you have Daisy. This isn't love or a relationship, and I don't think we should treat it like it is."

For a moment, Matt says nothing, watching her so intently with those eyes of his that Alex wants to glance away in discomfort. But she holds her ground, and he finally nods. "Alright. This is just sex and it doesn't interfere with anything else."

Alex nods. "Yes. Promise?"

"Promise."

XxX

Matt watches as she rises to her feet, a smirk on her face.

"Now that that's settled," she murmurs, dropping to her knees before him. He sits up straighter, interest suddenly peaked. She doesn't give him time to really assess the deal he just made with her, or the lingering ache in his chest from being so outright rejected, because now she's running her hands up and down his thighs, nails digging in through the fabric of his trousers.

"Alex," he groans, swallowing harshly as he looks to the trailer door. It's locked (thankfully) and his head falls back as her hand coasts over his crotch, pressing down softly into his growing erection. Her fingers make quick work of his zipper, tugging him from the confines of his trousers and pants swiftly.

"Make sure not to spill on the costume," she whispers, licking a stripe from the base to tip. She kisses the head, smiling as it jumps in her hands. He buries his fingers in her hair, eyes rolling back in his head. "Mess up my hair and I'm not doing this again for a good month."

At her warning, he loosens his grip, staring down at her with an intense gaze. She looks so gorgeous, situated between his legs, perfect hand wrapped tightly around the base of his cock. He didn't think this would happen when she led the way to his trailer, but oh, it's nice. Very, very nice.

He's about to reply, but his response comes out as a strangled, dying groan when her mouth wraps securely around the head, sucking her cheeks in harshly. He stops himself from thrusting into the warmth of her mouth, not wanting to choke or rush her. He doesn't know how often she's done this, doesn't want to know, but wow, she's good. Her free hand comes to up to fondle his balls, adding pressure in just the right spots.

"Fuck, Alex," he grunts as her mouth descends, tongue wrapping deliciously around the length of him over and over and how does she breathe? Biting down on his lip, he's shocked when she relaxes her throat, taking him all the way in. His blunt head hits the back of her throat, and the sensation sends fire through his nerves. "Holy fuck…"

She pulls him out with a slow tug, teeth scraping over the velvet skin, nails following the same path. And then she's down again, down, up, down, down, down, up. That rolling thing she does with her tongue is even more glorious around his cock and he can't breathe. His balls tighten considerably, and he's thrusting his hips.

"I can't - Alex, fuck, baby, gunna…" he gasps incoherently. She sucks harder, cheeks dipping in and breath escaping harshly through her nose. He looks at her then, the heated arousal in her gaze spurring him on further. He grips her head to his cock, howling loudly as he releases into her mouth. She's swallowing it all, and holy hell if that isn't even more of a turn on.

When he's spent, he pulls her up and kisses her harshly, biting at her lip when he tastes himself. He yanks her skirt up as best he can, dipping his fingers into her soaking (that turned her on, this much?) knickers, working at her clit with quick strokes. She moans deeply, his tongue feeling the vibrations of it.

He's about to slip his fingers inside (that's the only place he ever wants to be) when a quick knock comes to his door. He almost misses it, mind focused on her, but she's pulling away, ripping his hand from her panties almost as quickly as he got them in there.

"Cover yourself up," she whispers, ducking into his bathroom quickly. Finally realizing what's going on, he stuffs himself back into his trousers, standing. He rights his clothes and glances at the bathroom. She's got the door cracked and stares back at him, and their gazes are that of matching longing.

"I'm sorry," he groans, walking slowly to the door. "I'll make it up to you."

She responds with a laugh, motioning through the crack for him to answer the door. "You just better make it up to me."

"Oh, I will," he promises, unlocking the door and pausing before opening it. "I definitely will."

Chapter End Notes

Thanks everyone for the kudos – we're glad you like the fic! Okay, in this chapter, Alex's point of view written by Friday and Matt's point of view written by Brinney. Chapter title comes from the song Shiver by Coldplay. - Friday

Love you with my hands tied

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Six: Love you with my hands tied

The day they're set to film the wedding scene in the finale, Alex hasn't had a moment alone with Matt all day. At first, it drives her crazy. The script calls for his hair to be longer and graying just a touch at the sides and he looks so impossibly distinguished and strangely, a little dangerous. All she wants is to find two minutes to drag him into his trailer, a closet full of cleaning supplies – at this point she'll take anywhere, as long as they can be alone long enough for her to run her fingers through his hair and trace her tongue over his collarbone.

It's a busy day, and until their scene is filmed, she mostly watches him from across the set. She knows he can sense her eyes on him, following him wherever he goes and tracking his every move. Now and then, he'll glance at her and raise an eyebrow. Sometimes, he doesn't look at her at all, but she sees the smirk continually lurking at the corners of his mouth.

After a while, she makes it into a game.

It doesn't take her long to find what she's looking for behind set, and she takes her prize with her to a seat where she has a clear view of Matt talking to Steven behind the cameras. Dressed in River's black skirt and low cut jacket, she crosses her legs and unwraps the lollypop.

She stares at Matt for a while, waiting for him to notice her. He does, of course, and when his eyes dart in her direction, she slowly raises the lolly to her lips and closes her mouth around it. She runs her tongue over the red treat, watching Matt's eyes widen.

She smirks, pulling the lolly out of her mouth enough to suck on the top, hollowing out her cheeks. Matt seems to have given up all pretense of not staring, watching her with dark eyes while whatever Steven is saying falls on deaf ears. Eyes locked on Matt's, Alex pulls the lolly from her mouth completely and runs her tongue over the entire surface like she's lapping at an ice cream cone.

Matt licks his lips.

Taking the lolly back into her mouth, she nips at it gently with her teeth before pulling it out again,

then in again – a slow, seductive thrusting before finally pushing it back in and giving it a hard suck. Mouth agape, Matt unabashedly devours her with his eyes in a room full of people and Alex can't bring herself to care who else might be watching. Steven elbows Matt to get his attention and Matt stumbles into the refreshment table, his cheeks flushed and eyes wild.

Alex laughs around the treat in her mouth. She probably shouldn't feel so proud of herself for torturing him, but he's been driving her mad just by being near all day. A little payback had been required. Making his excuses to Steven, Matt begins to walk toward her and Alex watches him lazily, smirking.

Bending down, Matt snatches the lolly from her hand. Eyes dark and pupils blown wide, he looks at her like he wants nothing more than to shove her against the nearest wall. "You will pay for that, Kingston," he murmurs, voice wavering.

Leaning toward him and giving him an excellent view down her top, Alex raises an eyebrow in challenge. "I look forward to it."

Matt shifts uncomfortably, popping the lolly into his mouth, and Alex watches with warmth pooling in her belly as he sucks where her mouth had just been.

He smirks, watching her expression. "Not so funny now, is it?"

She glares at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'd like my lollypop back now, please."

"I don't think so," Matt speaks around it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little problem to take care of. Thanks to a very naughty woman who molested a piece of candy right in front of me and an entire film crew."

"I'm a bit of an exhibitionist." She shrugs. "You'll learn to like it."

"Already do, Kingston," he mutters, sliding past her and down the hall, toward the restroom.

Alex watches him go with a smile.

Later that night, when they're alone in a hotel room, Matt has her pinned on the mattress. Their clothes have long been shed, and he's stolen a certain prop from the set.

"This," he growls, straddling her hips as he hooks the handcuffs to each of her wrists before tossing her arms down above her head, "is what you get, love."

Alex can't help but answer him with a moan, the heat pooling within her too much to take. Seeing him like this is more of a turn on than she expected. When she arches her hips into his (but he stops her, pinning her down with strong hands), she knows she has to torture him more in the future.

She watches as he lifts himself from her body completely. He moves so he's standing at the edge of the bed, staring down at her naked form, laid out and bound for him. The heat in his gaze is intense and Alex bites her lip.

She's been naked on screen, but Matt always manages to make her feel anxious. Anxious about how he sees her body, if she's beautiful enough for him. It's irrational, she knows, because he's proven to her multiple times in the duration of their short affair that she is more than beautiful to him. But she can't help the feeling.

He pulls off his shirt and she watches him just like he's watching her. Her legs are spread, only slightly, and his eyes are feasting on her like she's a treat and he is famished.

"Matt," she whimpers, stretching her legs out, toes wiggling against his thighs. He smirks, obviously loving the position he's put her in. Jeans low on his hips and erection highly obvious, he kneels on the edge of the bed. Leaning down, he plants his hands on either side of her face, and kisses her roughly.

Alex lets him lead, knowing he wants to be in control and enjoying it probably more than he is. He pries her lips open with his probing tongue, and she gasps when he licks the roof of her mouth. He doesn't stay there for long, kissing the corner of her mouth, along her jaw line and down the column of her throat. He moves his hands down her sides, fingers pressing into her flesh softly.

"You're mine tonight," he rumbles into her neck, biting down on her pulse point as he grinds his jean-clad hips against her. The movement sends a shot of pleasure straight to her abdomen and she's pulling roughly against the handcuffs. Props or not, she thinks, they're still restricting enough to stop her from what she wants. And oh God, she wants him. She wants him flush

against her, inside her.

"Uhnn, Matt!" she shouts when his hips grind down again. It's so hard to focus, because his thumbs are brushing across her nipples and his erection is rubbing against her at just the right spot, never mind the lips that are teasing her collarbone. She plants her feet flat on the bed, encasing him in her naked thighs.

"I want you to keep your hands above your head until I move them, understand?" Matt demands, slowly kissing his way down her chest. He pauses with his mouth directly over an erect nipple, staring intently at her face. She looks down at him, cheeks flushed, and nods. Anything to get his mouth on her skin again.

She isn't disappointed when his mouth wraps gently around her nipple, alternating between hard sucks and soft licks. Her toes curl into the sheets and she bites down hard on her lip, a low-pitched mewl escaping from deep within her throat.

"You see what happens when you torture me in front of everyone?" He chastises against her breast, nuzzling it affectionately. He turns his attention to the other one, repeating his actions before tugging at it with his teeth. "Not going to do it again, are you?"

"Mmn, going to do it all the time," Alex sighs. She clenches her thighs around his torso when he nibbles a bit harder on her breast, the pounding ache becoming more and more prominent.

"Of course you are," he chuckles as he slips further down her body, licking and nipping at her heaving stomach. This is honest to God punishment and she loves it. A slick sheen of sweat has already formed across her body, and he still looks as dry as ever. Her heart is pounding hard against her chest and she feels so empty, clenching and unclenching around nothing.

When he finally situates himself between her legs, she's able to regain her breathing. He nuzzles her lower abdomen with his nose, his chin brushing ever so lightly across her neglected clit.

"Mm," Alex moans quietly, head lolling against the pillows. An errant curl falls into her eyes and she attempts to blow it away. Matt glances up from where he's positioned between her thighs, and he shoots her a lazy grin, placing a teasing kiss on her navel. She squirms, foot flat on his back in an attempt to push him down against her.

"Tsk, impatient," he laughs, nipping at her hip as he pins her down by her thighs. Her fingers flex and she suddenly detests his idea of stealing the prop handcuffs. They were easy enough to get out

of, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. As torturous as it is, seeing him like this, so in control and content, is more arousing than she had expected.

"Just…hurry," she begs, arching her hips from the bed. He nuzzles her again, his grin morphing into a smirk.

"No can do, Ms. Kingston," he taunts, licking a line across the top of her heat. A low moan escapes her and she grips at the pillowcases with her hands. If only there was a slotted headboard, it'd make it easier keeping her hands above her head.

"And," she pauses to gasp as his teeth nip at her sensitive bud, "why's that?"

"I want to make you writhe," he admits lowly and then his mouth is attacking her and all thought process is gone.

His arms wrap around her thighs from underneath, keeping her pinned down by the hips as he licks rapidly at her clit.

"Oh!" She shouts, hips bucking against his hold. Her eyes screw shut, head whipping back and forth on the pillow. Her hair gets stuck to her open mouth, unmoving even as she thrashes beneath Matt. The whimper that escapes her can hardly be deemed womanly, but she doesn't care, because now he's pressing his tongue flat against her, running it up and down in fast movements. His breathing is harsh against her pussy as he folds his tongue around her clit, and he sucks his cheeks in. It's then when he removes one hand from her waist, moving it beneath her slightly arched arse. He slips a finger inside her wet heat, quickly followed by another.

Alex can't even properly moan anymore, the sounds coming from her sounding like dying shrieks. Her legs wrap around his shoulders, ankles hooking together against the middle of his back. The angle serves to drive his fingers deeper within her, and the constant slash of pleasure shooting through her is too much. His tongue and his fingers and oh god, he's replaced his fingers with his tongue. His nose brushes against her clit as he shakes his head back and forth, hands gripping at the tops of her thighs tightly.

He hums against her, whispering sweet nothings between her thighs, against her aching, clenching, coming pussy. She pulls at the handcuffs again, this time harder, as her upper body shoots from the mattress. They break with a snap and she's gripping his head, holding him against her so tightly as she rides out her orgasm.

It isn't long before he's tapping against her stomach, signaling for her to let go. She does, reluctantly, falling back against the mattress. Matt sits up, leaning over her body with a grin as he licks his shining lips. She stares at him, dazed and gasping for breath.

"That was..." she trails off, pushing her hair from her face. Her eyes slowly leave his face and look at the broken handcuff still cinched to her wrist. She holds it out to him with pleading eyes, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. It's terribly difficult for her to speak right now and she's really, really thirsty.

He laughs, undoing it quickly. He snatches up her other wrist, pulling the second half off before tossing both pieces onto the floor.

Matt tugs her into him, rolling them over so she's straddling him. Her hands fall flat against his chest and she almost falls into him when her still-sensitive clit brushes across the hard denim of his jeans.

"You up for this?" He questions, curling a hand into her tousled curls. Alex's eyes roll into the back of her head as he begins to massage her scalp gently. Still not able to fully use her voice, she begins to undulate her hips slowly against his, mouth quirking when he groans. He is so painfully hard underneath her, hidden away by denim and pants.

She leans down, snatching his bottom lip between her teeth. Her hands slide down his slim stomach, fingers stumbling over each other to undo the button of his jeans. Her hair creates a curtain around them, hiding them from the empty room. She rests her head against his, reveling in the feel of his hot breath across her cheeks as she slides the zipper down. They fumble together as they both attempt to shed him of the last of his clothing. With his trousers and pants mere inches from his feet, she lifts her hips, green eyes intent on his smoldering blue ones.

He slips into her with ease and the feeling of being so completely filled washes over her. She listens with great concentration to the way his breath hitches as she sinks, inch by bloody inch, down his hard shaft. She stills the moment he is buried all the way inside her, clenching around him repeatedly.

Matt sits up, mouth latching onto her throat as he wraps his arms up around her shoulders from beneath her arms, forcing her to hook her arms around his neck. She turns her face into his hair when he thrusts up, suffocating her soft moan. Legs on either side of his hips, she begins a slow rise and fall rhythm, the sound of their skin slapping against each other and their harsh but quiet gasps the only thing that can be heard between the two.

He's licking and sucking at different parts of her neck, leaning down to capture a nipple as it

brushes across his throat. At each down stroke, Alex whimpers, each spear of unadulterated pleasure causing her to grip the back of his head tightly against her.

In a flash, Matt has her pushed down against the bed, leaving her with her head hanging off the edge and he pounds into her with abandon. Her grip doesn't loosen and his mouth never leaves her chest, mouth moving back and forth between her two bouncing breasts. One of his hands slips between their hips, two fingers attacking her clit with quick flicks.

"Mmnah," Alex moans loudly, head thumping against the mattress with each rapid thrust. She's so close, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Alex, baby, so close," he grunts against her skin, head resting between her breasts. She pulls her head up, tugging him to her mouth for a rough kiss, all tongues and teeth.

She shatters first, screaming his name into his mouth as her body goes rigid from the pleasure washing over her in waves. All she can see behind her shut-tight eyelids is blinding white, and she can't breathe.

"Ah, shit!" Matt shouts against her lips as he comes, rolling them over in an attempt to keep them from falling off the bed. She collapses on top of him again, and they're precariously close to the edge.

It's quiet between them for long moments and if Alex thought she was thirsty before, she was so wrong. Her throat is dry, but she knows she won't be able to move for a really long time.

"Pet," Matt breathes, and she lifts her head as best she can from his chest, looking at him with sleepy eyes.

"Hm?" She inquires quietly, chin resting against her palm as her eyes drift shut.

"We need to move before we topple to the floor," he laughs, but it's only a soft burst of air in her face. The feel of his breath across her sweat-slicked skin is nice, she thinks. "Come on, baby."

She groans when he pushes at her, sitting up with great difficulty. She immediately falls back against the pillows, head narrowly missing the wall. She curls up, hair tickling her nose and eyes. Matt is close behind, tugging the comforter out from beneath her and molding himself against her back.

"That good, eh?" He whispers into her hair, kissing the shell of her ear softly.

"Bloody fantastic," she mumbles, pushing her back against his chest, seeking his warmth. "Torturing you all the time."

He rolls his eyes, rolling over halfway to switch the lamp on the side table off. "You already do."

"Mm."

The next day, Matt is forced with the task of taking the broken handcuffs to the prop trailer, Alex laughing all the while as he attempts to slip in and out without being noticed. She tries to stifle her laughter when he's caught leaving the trailer by Karen, who unloads a ton of questions on him.

In the end, she thinks, she always wins.

Chapter End Notes

Good morning! It's ten thirty in the morning and I really prefer to be dead to the world until about noon so I am not a happy camper this morning. BUT thank you all so much for all the views and the kudos because it makes Brinney and I really happy - it almost makes up for being up too early:) Okay, in this chapter, I wrote the first Alex scene but then Brinney kidnapped her and wrote lovely smut. I'm sure you all don't mind. Haha Next chapter won't involve smut though, so please be aware that there IS a plot happening here. Also, chapter title comes from the Lady Gaga song 'Teeth'.

You know that I could use somebody

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Upon waking, Alex knows that it isn't going to be a good day. She'd tossed and turned during the night, never able to get properly comfortable even in her sleep, and then she'd been woken up by the sound of the maid knocking firmly on the door – totally oblivious to the 'Do Not Disturb' sign hanging on the door handle.

When she realizes that her phone alarm has malfunctioned and that she is late for work, she spills an entire container of expensive face powder all over the counter and the floor in the bathroom during her rush to get ready quickly. And then Salome accidentally steps in it, tracking it all over the carpet.

No more happy about being woken up than Alex, Salome is in quite the mood as well, especially after realizing she has gotten face powder all over her favorite black socks with the kittens on them.

It isn't a good morning for either of them.

Alex makes it into work an hour late, apologizing profusely to everyone even as Salome releases her hand and sprints toward Matt, who is talking to Arthur on the other side of the room. Matt spots Salome running toward him and his smile is brilliant.

Alex watches him bend down and let himself be tackled by her daughter – who seems to have forgotten all about their terrible morning. Standing up with her in his arms, Matt kisses her head, bops her on the nose, and after exchanging a few words and winking in Alex's direction, he returns to his conversation with Arthur, Salome still clinging to his neck.

Shaking her head, Alex sighs. He makes it look so easy. She'd like to see him deal with Salome when she's cross. It's a mite trickier than dealing with her when she's normal and happy, giving out hugs with a sweet smile on her face.

The bad day just continues from there – little things piling up and making everything so much worse. On her lunch break, instead of sitting outside in the strangely warm English weather with her daughter, Matt, Karen and Arthur, she ends up using Matt's trailer for a bit of privacy to answer a call from Florian. The conversation leads to an argument that ends with her shouting her goodbye and tossing her phone across the room in a fit of childish pique.

Salome walks into the trailer not seconds later, dragging Matt by the hand. They both smell of peanut butter sandwiches and the springtime air, and Alex is a little jealous.

"Mum, Karen is doing a funny dance in the parking lot. Wanna see?"

"Not right now, love," Alex smiles tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "But you can tell me about it later, all right?"

Salome shrugs and wanders back outside, probably back to the parking lot to watch Karen's adorably ridiculous antics for a while. Matt lingers behind, lurking in the doorway and watching her closely.

"All right?"

Alex offers him the same 'I'm fine' smile she'd just given her daughter, but Matt only frowns in reply. "Just tired," she says instead.

Matt crosses the room to sit beside her on the loveseat, holding out a hand expectantly. Knowing the routine by now, Alex slips her hand into his, smiling genuinely now as his fingers tighten around hers. "Okay. That was a good effort. Want to try a bit of honesty now?"

She rolls her eyes. "I'm fine, really. Just a bad day, that's all."

"Ah," Matt nods, leaning back into the cushions and pulling her with him. She settles into the crook of his arm, nestling her head into his shoulder. "Alex Kingston and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."

She snorts into his shirt, pinching his side and smiling when he squirms away. "Shut up, you great pillock."

He presses his lips to the top of her head and Alex feels oddly comforted. "Do you still want to meet later tonight?"

He sounds so hopeful that Alex almost tells him yes, but the weight of this horrible day is still heavy around her shoulders and she wants nothing more than to go back to her hotel, pull on a pair of sweatpants and sleep for an age.

Glancing up at him and wincing, she says, "I'm sorry, would you mind terribly if I just went back to the hotel? I'm exhausted and I just want to forget this entire day."

Fingers creeping slowly up her arm, Matt says into her hair, "I could help with that. I'm an excellent distraction."

She laughs. "No offense honey, but I don't want sex. I want chocolate."

"Women," Matt sighs, fingers in her hair now. He has developed a habit of twirling a curl around his index finger and then watching in fascination as it bounces back into place when he pulls away. Magic hair, he calls it. "Very well. I shall just go home to my girlfriend, where I feel wanted."

"Good," she says. "You definitely need the ego boost."

Matt guffaws. "You're so mean, Alex Kingston. Why do I like you so much?"

"It's the magic hair," she says, yawning.

"Probably."

Around eleven that night, when Salome has dropped into an exhausted sleep on one of the two double beds in the room, Alex stretches out on the other bed with a book. She doesn't get much time to read, but after the day she has had, reading about someone else's problems seems like the perfect way to end the day.

After Matt had left her earlier that day, he had taken her temporarily good mood with him, and her day had finished in the same manner it had begun – horribly. With a sigh of self-pity, Alex frowns at the words on the page in front of her. Tomorrow has to be better, surely. Who has two bad days

in a row?

Just then, there's a soft knock at the door and Alex looks up from her book and stares in the direction of the knock, wondering if she might be hearing things. Whoever is on the other side of the door will not be ignored, however, and the knock comes again.

Alex glances down at herself and makes a face before standing up and crossing the room. Whoever visits someone at eleven o'clock on a week night need not expect glamour, so she swings open the door in her Tee-shirt and sweatpants, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

Standing on the other side of the door in jeans and a leather jacket, Matt grins at her like she'd answered the door in skimpy lingerie. "Hello."

She gapes at him for a moment, at a loss. Though, she can't deny that she's glad to see him – always, it seems. "Matt, what are you doing here? I told you I didn't feel up to anything tonight."

Still smiling, Matt reaches into his jacket and produces a large chocolate bar, dangling it in front of her. "I know. Thought maybe you might like some company instead."

Chocolate. She'd told him she wanted chocolate instead of sex and he'd brought it to her. How can one man be so bloody perfect?

Snatching the chocolate bar from his hand, Alex reaches out and drags him inside by the neck of his jacket. The kiss she bestows on him is quick and hard, because she can't figure out any other way to thank him that wouldn't sound terribly clichéd. When she pulls away, licking her lips, Matt looks a little dazed, blinking at her.

Alex smiles. "Want to watch crap telly with me?"

"That's why I'm here."

They clamber onto the bed and rest their backs against the headboard, the bar of chocolate between them. Alex rests her head against Matt's shoulder, chewing slowly on her piece of chocolate and tilting her face up to watch him while he channel surfs. Face illuminated in the eerie glow of the television screen, he somehow still manages to look painfully attractive and she smiles fondly up at him until he looks down and kisses her.

"You taste like chocolate," he murmurs, licking at the corner of her mouth.

"Thanks to you," she says, and the gratitude in her voice must be detectable because Matt smiles widely and kisses her again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks after he pulls away. "Your bad day, I mean."

Alex shakes her head and nicks the remote from him, tired of watching television programs flicker across the screen at a rapid pace. He steals a bite of her chocolate in retaliation. "Hey!" She hisses quietly, trying to scold him without waking Salome, a bed away. "That's mine; you gave it to me. You can't steal back your own gift."

"It's my gift," he says. "I'll take it back whenever I bloody well like."

"You've already given it to me," she argues. "It's not yours anymore – you've forfeited all rights to the chocolate. You're being a thief."

"Yeah?" He asks, holding the chocolate bar aloft, above her head. "What're you gonna do about it, Kingston?"

Alex squints at him, searching for the weak spot in his defenses. A sliver of pale stomach is on display because of his raised arm, and she smiles, moving in quickly. She pokes him in the side, laughing quietly as he gasps and squirms away, tossing the chocolate in her direction by total accident as he flails to keep himself from falling off the bed entirely.

Gasping in silent laughter into her pillow, tears in her eyes, Alex tries to catch her breath as he straightens and tugs at his jacket, trying to reclaim a bit of dignity. He fails spectacularly, but she says nothing. Glaring, he says, "That was dirty."

"You took my chocolate," she says defensively, holding it to her chest with one hand, even as she uses the other to wipe the tears from her eyes. "I simply used any means I saw necessary to get it back."

Matt mutters something about ruthlessness, but Alex ignores his nervous suspicion as she inches closer to him, merely curving herself into his side and turning her attention back to the telly. When

he's quite satisfied that she isn't staging some sort of sneak attack, Matt slips an arm around her shoulders and tugs her closer.

For nearly an hour, they watch the late night news, giggling whenever the news anchor buggers up their cue or stumbles over a word. It's quite peaceful and relaxing, having him with her. It almost feels like a normal relationship. She can't help but wonder how he'd gotten away at such a late hour, and what Daisy must be doing but she can't bring herself to ask and ruin the illusion of normality, however brief it might be. So instead, she says nothing and Matt offers no explanation.

When Alex yawns against his chest, Matt glances down at his watch. "Bugger," he says. "Didn't mean to stay this late. You should be in bed."

"I'm not a child, you know," she says, amidst another yawn. "I know when to go to bed."

"Apparently not," he shoots back, his movements slow and reluctant as he extricates himself from the bed and her arms. She feels colder without him beside her, and she briefly entertains the thought of pulling him under the blankets with her and sprawling all over him, letting him hold her through the night. It's a silly notion and she tosses it away with a shake of her head.

Matt looks down at her with soft eyes, smiling. "Want me to tuck you in?"

"Not a child," she grumbles again, remembering the last time he'd done so, and how nice it had felt, ignoring the small part of her wanting to say 'yes'. Instead, she pulls herself from the bed to see him out. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

He nods, but as he places his hands on her waist, his eyes and all of his attention seems to be centered on her lips. "Tomorrow. Definitely." And then his mouth is over hers, as if he can't possibly be expected to wait another second to kiss her goodnight. She surrenders willingly, too sleepy to fight him for dominance tonight.

Though, Matt has always been good at changing her mind. He licks purposefully at the inside of her mouth and she feels a shiver of warmth makes its way through her whole body. His thumb sweeps across her hipbone in a light caress, and suddenly, she has never felt more awake in her life. She both hates and loves the way he can make her whole body tingle with desire - from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes, just with a simple touch. She slips a hand up his chest and into his hair, gripping a fistful and pressing her body into his.

Matt moans softly into her mouth, hands tightening on her hips as he backs her into the door. She

barely feels the awkward press of the doorknob into her lower back, too engrossed in Matt's tongue against hers and the pressure of his fingers digging into her skin, the smell of his leather jacket and the rich chocolate they'd shared invading her senses.

She tugs at his hair a bit harder, wrapping a leg around his ankle. He stumbles into her, nipping gently at her bottom lip, his breath hot against her. Slowly, his hand slides across her hip, sneaking into the waistband of her sweatpants. Matt swallows her gasp in a fierce kiss and she feels her knees turn to jelly as his long fingers trail across her stomach and into her knickers.

Breaking away from their kiss with much effort, breathing ragged, she pants, "Wait. No."

"Why not?" He asks, leaving a trail of biting kisses across her jaw and down her neck. "Want you so bloody much."

Oh, not fair. She bites her lip and resists the urge to arch into his touch, warm all over and feeling bereft already, knowing he'll be leaving her unsatisfied. "Salome."

Matt freezes, his fingers halting so close to where she wants them to be, and still tangled together, they both turn to watch Salome, sleeping soundly in the bed only several feet away. Letting out a soft groan, Matt slips his hand from her trousers and rests his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes in frustration.

Laughing softly, Alex reaches up to stroke his cheek. "Sorry, dear."

Matt opens his eyes and stares right into hers, and from this close, Alex feels a little winded by the amount of affection and good humor she sees there. "S'alright. Didn't come here for that, anyway." He smiles mischievously. "Would've just been one hell of a bonus."

"Thank you," she says, fiddling with the collar of his coat. "For coming here, I mean. You didn't have to."

Planting a teasing kiss on the tip of her nose, Matt says, "No, but I wanted to." He pulls away, tugging fondly at a loose curl. "Night, Kingston." He slips out the door and Alex stands in the doorway and watches him walk away until he disappears around the corner.

Arms wrapped around herself, Alex somehow feels more alone than before. Lips still tingling, she whispers to the empty corridor, "Goodnight."

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for comments and kudos - they make us both very happy:) This chapter written by me, Friday. Chapter title comes from Use Somebody by Kings of Leon.

So many things we could do instead

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Eight: So many things we could do instead

"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!"

The pub music is so loud that Alex can barely hear the chanting going on around her, but she laughs anyway, watching Arthur struggle to beat Dave in downing his drink first. At least, with the beat pounding in her ears, she can't hear whatever Daisy is saying to Matt right now, and considering the girl's flirtatious smile, Alex is grateful her hearing is momentarily impaired.

Why had she decided to go out with them tonight? She could be sitting in her newly acquired townhouse right now, her daughter asleep in her bed and the television a soothing background noise as she reads. Instead, she's sitting in a crowded booth across from Matt and his girlfriend. It might possibly be the most awkward situation Alex has been in since this affair started – and that's including the time Steven almost caught them playing footsie under the table during a read-through.

Alex smirks a little, suddenly aware of how to pass the time.

Slipping her foot from her chunky wedge, she slides her bare foot up Matt's boot and into his trouser leg to caress his ankle. Across the table, Matt barely manages to contain a full-bodied jerk, his eyes going wide. Alex bites her lip to keep from laughing, keeping her eyes on the sight of Arthur and Dave competing.

Out of the corner of her eye, Alex sees Daisy lean in close to Matt again but it takes him several seconds to tear his eyes from her. When he does respond to Daisy, they share a quick kiss and Alex flexes her toes against Matt's leg in irritation. Without looking at her, Matt wraps a leg around hers and jerks in an effort to stop her.

Yanked forward against her will, Alex bites down on the urge to yelp and tries to play off the sudden movement as one of her own choosing, resting her elbows on the table and leaning over, watching Arthur put down his glass, spluttering.

"Kingston," Matt rumbles over the sound of the music. Alex glances in his direction and sees that

Daisy has gone. Foot between her legs on her seat, Matt leans forward and eyes her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "What exactly are you playing at?"

"What's that?" She asks, cupping her hand around her ear, as though she can't hear him over the music. Chuckling, she closes her thighs around his boot and trails her foot further up the inside of his leg.

Matt's expression is one of annoyance but he can't hide the darkening of his eyes or the flush in his cheeks. Smirking, Alex wiggles her toes against his knee, enjoying the feel of denim against her bare foot and watching his lips tighten.

"What's going on here?" The chugging contest between Arthur and Dave is over and apparently, she and Matt are Karen's new entertainment. The redhead watches them with blatant curiosity.

"Staring contest," they say in unison.

Karen laughs and turns to get Arthur's attention, and as the two debate on who will win and go as far as to bet money, Alex doesn't take her eyes from Matt's. His foot is still trapped between her thighs, though he isn't exactly trying to escape. Her own foot continues up his thigh, achingly slowly, just to torture him. It might not be so fun tormenting Matt if his reactions weren't so bloody sexy. He's always a little rougher with her when she's done something to frustrate him in public, and Alex can't help but encourage it.

"Another staring contest?" Daisy slides into the booth next to Matt with her drink in hand. The irritation is plain as day in the tone of her voice but Alex can't give in and glance in her direction. She can't blame the girl; Alex wouldn't be very happy to have her boyfriend constantly staring at another woman without blinking either.

It's become a bit of a game between her and Matt, a way to flirt even with Daisy and everyone else around them. A silent but effective seduction. When Matt finally corners her tonight, his hands will be bruising on her hips, his mouth will be harsh against hers, and when his hips grind against hers, his voice will be gruff and commanding in her ear. Alex isn't about to give that up just because Daisy disapproves of staring.

When Daisy places a hand on Matt's thigh, Alex slides her foot further up the inside of his other thigh. She can feel Matt tense, and she watches the skin around his eyes tighten in fear even as he licks his lips with arousal. Alex bites down on a smile but doesn't stop moving her foot, raising an eyebrow.

"If I forfeit," Matt says, still not looking away. "Will you promise to stop, Kingston?"

"Stop what?" She asks, stilling her foot just short of his crotch and inches away from Daisy's hand. The people around them have stilled, watching with confusion and listening with interest. They're drawing far too much attention to themselves, but Alex can't find it in herself to care. Not even with Daisy's hand so close to her foot. If the girl glances at Matt's lap, she'll see Alex's red-painted toes caressing the inside of Matt's thigh.

Jaw tight, Matt says, "Teasing me, of course. My chin is not that big."

Pressing her foot hard into his thigh and resisting the urge to slide it over just a few inches and press her heel into the crotch of his jeans, Alex smiles innocently. Matt bites at his lip in an effort not to close his eyes.

Tilting her head to one side, soft smile turning into a smirk against her will, she says, "Of course dear. I am a kind person, after all."

Looking away from her, she hears Matt grumble, "I highly doubt that."

At the loss of eye contact, Alex instantly takes her foot from his lap and opens her thighs, letting his booted foot drop back to the floor. Slipping her own foot back into her high-heeled wedge, Alex turns her attention back to Karen and Arthur.

Obviously feeling left out until now, Daisy cuddles into Matt's side and presses her lips against his neck. Matt squirms against her for a moment before settling and Alex picks up her drink from the table, keeping her eyes to herself.

"Alright, what's this I hear about you house hunting, Alex?" Karen asks around her straw. "There were pictures in the paper this morning and I didn't even know you were looking!"

"Yeah, I meant to ask you about that when you came in," Arthur says, leaning across the table. He eyes his empty glass with a nauseous frown. "I got a bit distracted."

Karen nudges her. "So…are you moving back here?"

"No," Alex laughs. "It's just a little townhouse I'm renting so Salome and I have somewhere to stay besides a hotel when I'm filming here, especially since I'm signed up for even more episodes next season. Living out of a suitcase gets old after a while."

"You know what this means, don't you?" Karen asks, smiling brightly.

Alex shakes her head and she can't help but return that contagious smile. "Please inform me, dear."

"Slumber parties!" Karen says, clapping her hands. "Me, you, Salome and Arthur are going to have a sleepover and watch movies and - "

"Hold on," Arthur says, holding up a hand. "Why am I included in this? And why isn't Matt coming?"

Karen rolls her eyes. "Because this is going to be a family slumber party, numpty! Bonding time."

Arthur stares at her. "You do know our last name is not Pond, right?"

Karen sticks out her tongue. Laughing at them behind her drink, Alex glances in Matt's direction to find him gone. Daisy is by herself on the other side of the booth, texting furiously. As if feeling Alex's eyes on her, she looks up. She offers a thin, uncomfortable smile before looking back down at her phone.

Not wanting to scan the room for him and make it obvious, Alex returns her attention to Karen and Arthur's bickering and tries not to feel alone in a pub full of people.

XxX

This was a terrible idea. A terrible, terrible idea.

How is he supposed to sit next to his girlfriend and across from Alex in such a confined space without giving himself away?

Terrible, terrible idea.

Daisy is holding his hand, looking completely bored out of her mind with all the happenings around them. It makes him wonder why she continues to ask to come out with him and his co-workers, because every time she does, the entire time she's there, she just wants to go home.

Such a buzz kill.

Holy hell, when did Alex take her wedges off?

Matt risks a glance in her direction, just as she's looking away, and silently curses the smirk playing across her lips. He wants to tear her away from the rest of the group and bury his hands in those glorious curls. The feel of her manicured toes dragging across his calf sends a wave of pleasure through his body, and his trousers tighten considerably.

"Baby," Daisy says, leaning over into his personal space (which should be hers, as well, right? He is her boyfriend) and kissing his cheek softly. "I'm going to go get another drink. Would you like something?"

He clears his throat, tearing his eyes from Alex's neck (is that obvious?), and looks at Daisy. She's really beautiful, in her own way, with long, gorgeous hair, but it's straight. Not the curls he finds himself so deeply attracted to and wait, what did she ask him? Right, drinks.

"Uh, no, I'm good. Thanks, pet," he says, chastely returning the kiss she places on his lips. He hides his grimace at the feel of Alex's toes digging into his skin, and wraps his booted foot around her calf and tugs. She plays off the sudden movement by sitting forward in the booth, as if trying to get a better look at Arthur, who is now coughing around his beer.

This whole situation is comical, in hindsight, but tell that to his erection. Thank the lord for tables and dim lighting.

"Kingston," he rumbles and she looks at him, perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. He leans on the table, plopping his foot between her legs on the seat as he whispers over the dozens of voices in the pub, "What exactly are you playing at?"

"What's that?" She asks with a chuckle, closing her thighs tightly around his boot. He fights the

urge to roll his eyes, because he is very certain she had heard him.

Their eyes remain locked as her bare foot ventures up the inside of his trousers, her smirk growing and his self-control shrinking. Karen notices the interaction, watching both of them intently.

"What's going on here, then?" She asks, turning away from Dave and Arthur to face them more directly.

"Staring contest," they speak in unison, and Matt almost looks away to judge the look on Karen's face. She's laughing, however, and calls Arthur over to them.

"Who do you think will win?" The ginger asks him, tugging on his arm to get him down to her level. "Alex must have more patience than him, hm?"

"I don't know," Arthur states contemplatively, "Matt certainly has a competitive streak."

As Karen and Arthur continue their debate, Alex's toes continue to push the leg of his trousers up. The idea of someone looking under the table at their entangled legs sends a rush of excitement down Matt's spine, and he vaguely registers Daisy sitting back down next to him.

"Another staring contest?" Daisy exclaims, exasperated. "I swear, you two have broken the record for how many times you battle each other at this. Neither of you ever win."

That seems to dishearten Karen, as she begins to bet with Arthur against Matt. The two pause, mid-shake, staring at Daisy.

"Neither of them, ever?" Karen whines, withdrawing her hand quickly.

"Nope," Daisy sighs, taking a sip from her fruity drink. "The last time they did this was about twenty minutes ago. It lasted for ten whole minutes before I decided it was futile."

Matt bites his lip, refraining from a smile. If only any of them knew.

His body goes rigid when he feels Daisy's hand caress his thigh, thumb tracing circles very close to his crotch and Alex's foot. Alex smirks, venturing higher and higher with her toes, inches away from his girlfriend's hand.

"If I forfeit," Matt speaks, unblinking eyes on Alex's, "will you promise to stop, Kingston?"

"Stop what?" She asks with a laugh, foot stilling on his leg. He can see Karen's questioning gaze in the corner of his eye, and knows Daisy's eyes are locked on the side of his face. Way to bring attention to the situation, Matt. Really, good job.

"Teasing me, of course," he speaks as honestly as he can. He quickly adds, "My chin is not that big."

The mischief in her eyes is blatant as she presses her foot down into his thigh, almost right next to Daisy's hand. His skin tightens as fear and arousal shoot through him, and he bites down on his lip harshly.

"Of course, dear," she murmurs, tilting her head to the side with a smirk. "I am a kind person, after all."

"Highly doubt that," he grumbles, looking away from her. The moment he does, her foot is off his person and he immediately misses it.

"Finally," Daisy says, obviously relieved. He winces at the sound of her voice. He's not oblivious to the fact that his 'staring contests' with Alex bother her, and he silently wonders what her reaction would have been if she knew how close the older woman's foot had been to his crotch; to her hand.

He shakes the thought as quickly as it enters his mind, allowing Daisy to snuggle into his side while trying to subtly adjust his jeans.

He's definitely going to need to go to the loo in a moment.

He lets the conversation carry on, Alex giving details on her new townhouse (which he knows all about), before he's nudging Daisy out of the booth. He makes his way to the loo, weaving in and out of the crowd. Finally through the doors of safety, he locks himself in one of the rarely used stalls.

Just as he's about to release himself from his jeans, his phone vibrates within his pocket. Pulling it out, he frowns when Daisy's name shows up, signaling a text.

'Please don't leave me out here for too long.'

He can't fight off the wave of anger he gets from reading that message. With quick fingers, he types back, 'If you didn't want to be around them, you shouldn't have come along.'

Matt's about to forgo his quick release, opting to return to where his obviously bitchy girlfriend sits amongst his friends, when he gets another text. This time, it's not from Daisy, but Alex.

'Daisy just stormed out of here. What'd you do this time?'

He has half a mind to call Daisy, but figures this is a blessing in a disguise. If she's pissed off enough to leave without telling him, then he's definitely going to be facing an argument when he returns home. Might as well make the best of it before he gets to that point.

'She was being unreasonable and I pointed it out', Matt texts back, unlocking the stall door. He looks down at his trousers, noting that his problem hasn't disappeared in his few minutes of anger and he sighs.

Nothing can dissuade his reaction to Alex, besides her.

Idea forming quickly in his mind, Matt smirks as he awaits her next text, leaning against the sink. He isn't waiting for long, because soon his phone is vibrating in his hand.

'You should know better when it comes to a woman. Have I taught you nothing?'

'I suppose not. Why don't you come teach me a lesson?'

A man walks in then, looking at Matt as if he had two heads. Matt thinks that he must look a bit odd, just standing around the toilets, texting on his phone, but the promise of getting Alex alone is

too delicious to pass up.

Matt can't say he's ever had sex in a public loo before.

There's a first time for everything, he thinks, when Alex's reply comes through.

'Give me five minutes.'

XxX

The moment the other man leaves the toilets, Alex is poking her head through the door. Her eyes are questioning as they scan the entirety of the room, looking for any other occupants.

"There's no one else in here, Kingston," Matt grins from his perch against the counter. She quirks an eyebrow, entering the room fully. With her back against the door, she clicks the lock, and the heat in her gaze nearly brings him to his knees. For a moment, he takes her in. The low-cut top she's wearing dips just between her breasts, and the black skirt hits the middle of her thighs. And those strappy shoes, hiding the beautiful toes that had tortured him so earlier. He starts towards her, a mischievous smirk clouding his face.

"This is going to have to be quic-" Alex doesn't have time to finish her sentence, because then he's on her, mouth attacking hers eagerly as he slams his body into hers. She gasps into his mouth and he swallows the delicious sound. He buries his hands in her hair, tugging at her roots, and her hands come up, pulling his head closer. Their tongues battle for dominance, Matt quickly winning when he licks at the back of her front teeth.

They break apart reluctantly, air quickly becoming an issue, and he stares down at her, taking in the flush of her cheeks and her puffy lips. She's gasping for air, hooded eyes unfocused on his face. He grinds his erection into her, reveling in the sound she makes.

"God," he breathes, kissing her again with harsh nips and swift swipes of his tongue. "You get off on teasing me, don't you? You bloody love getting me so hard for you around everyone else."

She chuckles, the sound turning into a soft mewl when his hands travel across the front of her low-cut shirt. He flicks both thumbs across her hard nipples, shivering when her tongue slides across his ear.

"You're right," she gasps in his ear, trailing her nails down his back, digging deep into his shirt. "I get so wet, just knowing it's me you want."

He growls, hands moving to her bum to lift her up harshly. He slams her harder against the door, attacking her throat with open-mouthed kisses. The position causes his erection to press more directly into her core as her skirt bunches up around her hips. She grips his shoulders tightly, head tossing back and forth as he relentlessly thrusts his hips into hers.

"And," he bites out, burying his face in her neck. He can feel the heat of her through her knickers, uncaring as her juices slowly dampen the front of his jeans. "This stupid skirt. So short, showing off those amazing legs."

"Shut up," she moans, pushing her hips into his in an attempt to get him to continue his previous actions, "and fuck me."

With a groan, he pulls them away from the door, fingers gripping her thighs tight enough to leave bruises, and spins them around. He drops her onto the counter, tugging at her black thong with impatient hands. She lifts her arse from the counter as best as she can, and soon it's sliding off her legs. Without thinking, he stuffs it into his back pocket before dropping to crouch in front of her, tugging her closer to the edge.

"Matt, we don't have ti- ohh," she breaks off, burying her hands into his hair as his mouth devours her pussy. He wraps his lips around her clit, tugging at it with his teeth. He is never going to get over the taste of her - such a bittersweet flavor. He tongues at her entrance, thrusting in and out, lapping at the continuous taste.

She's grinding carelessly against his mouth, back bent and her head repeatedly bangs against the mirror. Her legs widen and she tucks one foot under the sink. The other rests against his crotch, pressing down almost hard enough to hurt. He grinds against it as he returns his attention to her clit, licking at the swollen nub over and over. Two slim fingers make their way inside her heat, curling to prod at her g-spot. The action causes her to shatter, legs jerking with the force of her climax. Her back arches further into the air, her loud moan like music to his ears, and he quickly replaces his fingers with his tongue, catching her essence in his mouth.

"Want you," she whimpers, tugging his head up by his ears. He kisses her when he straightens, taking pleasure in the fact that he still has her taste on his tongue. Her hands fumble with his zipper, but soon his trousers and pants are around his thighs and she's guiding him inside.

"Ugnn," Alex sighs. An arm wraps around his neck, the other holding her upright, and she tugs him in for another kiss, this one wet and sloppy as he slowly enters her. When he's finally buried balls deep within her, they let out a collective groan.

"Love the way you feel," he grunts, eyes rolling back in his head when her nails dig into his neck. Matt pulls out nearly all the way, biting down on her lip when she clenches tight around the head of his cock. He slams back in, and she hits the mirror with the force of it. She grimaces, but holds him tight to her, meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Ma-att," she moans, and it's beautiful, the way she draws his name out like that. As if he's the only one that matters.

Her slick walls quiver around him, and he wraps his hands around her waist, holding her still as he pounds into her with abandon. Head bent, he watches as his cock disappears into her pussy, over and over, finding the sight to be incredibly hot.

She's always so wet, just for him.

Her teeth sink into his ear, tugging at it. Gasps and moans fill his ears, and he knows she is close, with the way her entire body quakes around him, with him. Her nails are buried deep in the flesh of his neck, the pain heightening the pleasure he's feeling and causing his balls to tighten.

"Alex," he groans, head against her collarbone. "I'm gonna…"

"Mmnn," she hums, licking and nipping at his cheek, "touch me."

He obliges, sliding his fingers down between their bodies and flicking them over her clit. She rocks against him uncontrollably, walls clenching. She gasps out his name like a mantra, body going rigid as she comes, violently. He lifts his head, capturing her open mouth with his. His tongue swipes across her mouth in a frenzy, the spasms of her pussy driving him over the edge. She swallows his loud groan, bringing her arm up to wrap securely around his neck with the other as they slowly ride out their highs.

His hips finally stop, breath mingling with hers while they regain their right minds. He pulls away, noticing the small disapproving noise she makes when he leaves her body. Leaning over her, he grabs a couple of paper towels, wetting them in the automatic sink that Alex is nearly inside of, before proceeding to clean them up.

"Mm, I really, really enjoy torturing you," she states when she's back on her feet. Matt rolls his eyes, allowing her to readjust his clothing. He tugs her skirt back down and for a moment, they stand there with lingering hands and soft kisses.

Soft fingers swipe across his neck and she worries her bottom lip.

"I really need to be more careful," Alex states quietly, green eyes meeting his. He shrugs, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"I can just say Kaz got me in a headlock."

"Yes, and she's mean enough to dig her nails into your skin so hard they leave welts? Doesn't quite sound like Karen to me, sweetie. Besides, what will you say to Karen, then?"

"I'll say you did the same thing. Excuses work on everyone, Kingston, you just gotta know what you're doing," he laughs, kissing her again before pulling away. "Might want to get out of here, now. There could be a line outside."

"Which is going to make me leaving the men's loo so much less suspicious," she states with a grimace.

"I'll hide out in one of the stalls, so it'll look like you just wanted some privacy."

"And why was I in the men's toilers when the women's are directly across the way?"

"That's for you to decide," Matt smirks, watching as she walks towards the door. He stops her before she reaches it, spinning her around to kiss her again. She hums into the kiss, tugging him closer by the waist of his jeans before pulling away.

"Shoo, into the stall with you," she smiles, waving him away with her hands.

He chuckles, eyes never leaving hers until the stall door is shut and locked.

"See you in a few, love," she says, and then she's gone.

While standing in a highly unsanitary stall, waiting for the right time to leave, Matt decides that he really, really loves it when she tortures him, too.

XxX

Thankfully, there isn't a huge line outside when Alex leaves – only one man, standing with his arms folded and looking cross. Alex offers him a tiny, apologetic smile. "Sorry. Other one was occupied and I really had to go."

She slips past him, biting her lip to keep from laughing, and returns to the table where her friends wait. It isn't until she's sitting in the booth again, Karen pressed against her side and snorting with laughter as Arthur tries to recreate the Giggle Loop with empty mugs, that Alex realizes she isn't wearing knickers.

Horrified, she remembers Matt yanking them roughly down her legs and stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. She feels heat flood her face at the memory and she reaches up a hand to cover her blush.

"You alright?" Karen asks, still laughing a little as she turns from Arthur. "You look a bit flushed."

Alex nods, picking up her drink and taking a long swill. "Fine," she chokes out, slamming her empty glass onto the table.

Feeling fingers in her hair, she tries to look at Karen, but the redhead stops her with a stern, "Hold still!"

"What is it?" She asks, nervous. Surely Matt would have noticed something caught in her hair? Oh, who is she kidding? She could have walked out of the loo with a wet spot on her skirt and he wouldn't have noticed. The man is oblivious.

"Quit squirming, it's fine," Karen assures her. "Your hair is just a bit flat in the back. What did you do to it? It was fluffy as a kitten ten minutes ago!"

A sudden image flashes across her mind of clinging to Matt and being shoved first against the bathroom door and then repeatedly against the mirror over the sink. Alex fights the urge to shut her eyes in mortification. "It's the humidity in here. Hell on the hair."

"All better," Karen says with a smile, pulling away.

"Thanks." Alex slumps into the booth, the combination of sudden anxiety and her encounter with Matt leaving her boneless.

"What'd I miss?" The devil himself slips into the booth across from her, shirt a little wrinkled and his hair marvelously ruffled. His eyes are bright and his smile is rather too dopey for someone who has just made a trip to the loo and stumbled over a table leg on his way back. He looks like a little boy who has just gotten an iced lolly for good behavior.

Smirking a little, Alex nudges him with her foot under the table. He glances at her, cheeks flushed and smile dimpled, and she brings a subtle hand up to her hair, smoothing it back. Realization dawning, Matt looks away quickly, turning to Arthur as their friend begins to explain the giant tower of cups in front of him, but he reaches up a hand to smooth back his hair, mouth twitching.

As Matt gestures wildly and almost sends the tower toppling to the floor, she pulls her phone from her bag. Arthur is in the middle of shooing Matt away from his creation as Alex angles the phone subtly away from Karen and types out a message. 'Anything in your back pocket, by any chance?'

Thankfully, Matt's phone is on vibrate and only she notices when he receives the message. He starts a little in his seat, hand reaching into his pocket for his mobile. Smirking down at his screen, his eyes mischievous, Matt types out a quick response before turning back to Arthur.

Her phone buzzes and Alex glances down at her lap.

'A souvenir.'

She frowns. 'Hand them over, baby face.'

'What? Now?'

'You're not keeping them!'

'Why not? Black is my color.'

'Give me my knickers.'

'Make me.'

'Stop being a child!'

'If I'm a child, then you're a sick woman, Kingston.'

Frustrated and unable to show it to his smirking face in front of all these people, Alex cannot contain herself any longer and she kicks him hard in the shin under the table. She bites down on her lip as Matt stifles a pained groan, glaring at her.

He's annoyed with her for the rest of the evening, sending her an irritated glower whenever she looks in his direction, but at the end of the night, when he gives her a public, friendly hug goodbye, she feels him slip his hand into her bag before quickly snaking back out again.

She smiles into his shoulder. "Thank you."

"Spoilsport," he murmurs, pouting. "Can I keep them next time?"

"Maybe." Alex pulls away from his embrace and pats him on the cheek with Karen and Arthur looking on. "If you're a good boy."

Chapter End Notes

A/N – Thank you all so much for the kudos! If you've never seen Coupling, you should look up the Giggle Loop on youtube to understand what Arthur was doing with those mugs. Also, I completely forgot to mention this but the last chapter and this one were beta'd for us by Trialia, who kindly pointed out all of our American mistakes. We are incredibly grateful for her help. And she's so quick! Chapter title comes from the song Faster Kill Faster by Paul Oakenfield and Brittany Murphy. Brinney wrote everything from Matt's point of view and I wrote everything from Alex's.

Yours are the sweetest eyes

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Alex feels like death.

She's pretty sure she looks like it too.

Curled up on the sofa in her townhouse, wrapped in blankets and clutching a handful of tissues, she stares sleepily at her television and tries not to let out a pitiful whine of misery because it's just pathetic when there's no one around to hear it. Instead, she sneezes again and it just makes the pain in her head that much worse. She groans, burrowing further into her blankets and wanting nothing more than to just die.

When her mobile phone rings, she considers not answering it but Salome is with her father this week and if it's her calling for any reason at all, then Alex wants to answer it – if only to hear her daughter's voice. It gets lonely around here without her.

Blindly reaching for the ringing phone on her coffee table, despite the way her whole body aches at any movement whatsoever, Alex retrieves her phone and hurriedly slips her exposed arm back under the fuzzy blankets. "Hello?" She answers, but her head is full of cotton and her nose is stuffy so she's pretty sure it comes out sounding rather more like, 'Heddo'. She's too miserable to care.

"Alex?" On the other end of the line, Matt's voice makes her smile despite herself. "You sound bloody awful! Where are you?"

"I called in sick today," she explains, sniffling. "I have the flu."

"Ah," Matt says understandingly. "Got it from Salome, did you?"

Alex nods before she remembers that he can't see her. "Apparently." She sneezes. "Sorry."

"Do you need anything?" He asks. "Want me to come over and pick up Salome? She can hang

out on set with me today."

"She's with Florian," Alex says, coughing into her tissue.

"So you're there by yourself?" Matt asks, and his concern would have been heartwarming if Alex didn't suddenly feel like she might be sick. "Do you have a fever? Have you taken anything?"

"I'm going to have to call you back," she says slowly, cautiously lifting herself out of her nest of blankets and fighting down the growing nausea she feels as she tries to make her way to the toilet in time. She clings to the walls to keep herself upright, far too weak and dizzy to stand on her own.

"Why?"

"Because if you stay on the phone any longer you're going to hear me throw up," she says, feeling uncomfortably warm all over. "Have fun today, dear."

She hangs up the phone, dropping it to the floor and reaching the toilet just as her body begins to heave.

XxX

Sweaty, aching, and light-headed, Alex makes it back to the living room half an hour later. She still feels wretched, but her stomach is mercifully settled – for the moment, anyway.

Just about to climb back into her blankets and curl up, waiting for the misery to stop, she pauses at the sound of the doorbell. Mumbling to herself about never getting a moment's peace – she's still stuffed up so it comes out more like 'neber geddin' a mobet's peas' – Alex stumbles to the door with the helpful assistance of the wall.

When she swings open the door to find Matt standing there with a bag from Tesco in hand, she can only stare in horror. She must look a fright – her hair a knotted mess around her head, her eyes watery and puffy, nose bright red from sniffling, and dressed in sweatpants and an oversized sweatshirt. She clutches her handful of tissues in a closed fist and doesn't know what to say.

"You look delightful," Matt says, grinning.

"Bite me," she returns, sneezing.

Frowning when she stumbles into the wall, Matt takes her by the elbow. "What are you doing out of bed, anyway? Can't even bloody stand up straight."

"Some inconsiderate twat rang the doorbell," she says, letting him guide her back to the sofa.

"Don't you hate it when that happens?" He asks, and he sounds so ruddy cheerful that Alex wants to punch him, except his hand is strong where it cups her elbow and his eyes are gentle as he helps her to lie down and brings the blankets up to her chin.

"What are you doing here?" She asks. "You're supposed to be on set today."

"Can't do my scenes without you," he says, and that's a lie, because he's supposed to be filming with Karen and Arthur today, but Alex is too tired and sick to press him about it.

"What's in the bag?" She asks instead, eyeing it with growing suspicion.

Matt smiles and sits on the edge of the sofa, reaching inside and pulling out everything inside one by one and listing them as he goes, dumping them into her lap. "Tissues, medicine, magazines, a bucket in case you get sick again so you don't have to run to the loo, crackers, and ginger ale. Oh, and a party hat because they were on sale."

He drops the hat onto her head and smiles while Alex glares up at him weakly. "I must say, it looks quite fetching on you."

"I hate you," she mumbles, burrowing further into her blankets and shutting her eyes as a harsh cough racks her body. She feels Matt's cool hand against her forehead, and she groans as the coughing fit subsides, swatting his hand and the party hat away. "Go away. You're going to get sick too."

Matt laughs softly, and the hand on her forehead turns into a caress against her cheek. "If sitting in the waiting room at the hospital with Salome, letting her cough into my neck, hasn't given me the

flu, I don't think I'm going to get it."

Alex smiles sleepily, remembering how worried she'd been over Salome's high fever and how Matt had taken them to the hospital and sat in the waiting room with Salome in his lap, murmuring soothingly to her while Alex stood at the desk and filled out forms. His help had been invaluable and she knows Matt is going to make a patient, brilliant father one day.

She isn't sure if it's the thought of Matt being a father – off and away from her and her daughter – or if it's just this horrid virus, but she suddenly feels like she's going to be sick and the thought is horrifying. She does not need Matt to see that.

Waving him away, she says, "Go. I'm going to be sick."

Matt leaps for the bucket he'd put aside and holds it under her head, stroking her hair back from her forehead with the other hand. "I'm not leaving you here to be sick and miserable on your own."

Before Alex can protest, she's throwing up into the bucket, silently mortified while her body empties itself of what little remains in her stomach. Matt holds her hair back, murmuring soothingly to her and seemingly not disgusted at all. She was right – fatherhood is going to suit him beautifully. When she's done, Matt hands her a ginger ale to rinse her mouth and then takes the bucket into the kitchen.

"Where's the bloody tea?"

Alex laughs quietly, settling back into the sofa cushions and listening to him finding his way around her kitchen.

"Ah, found it!"

When he returns with a steaming mug and a plate of crackers, Alex sighs, sniffling into a tissue. "You don't have to do this, you know. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Uh-huh," he says absently, setting his provisions down on the coffee table and pulling out a packet of pills. "And have you taken any medicine or are you just wallowing about in pain without doing anything about it?"

She frowns, feeling like a chastised child. "I would have gotten around to it."

"Thought so," Matt murmurs, handing her two pills and her tea. "Take these, bloody impossible woman."

Too weak to protest, she swallows the pills down obediently and Matt takes the tea from her, putting it next to her ginger ale. "You can go now," she says when he hands her a cracker, though she wants nothing more than to pull him under the blankets with her and fall asleep with her head against his chest. She hates being alone when she's sick.

"I already told you, I'm not leaving you." Matt sits on the edge of the sofa and taps her red nose playfully. "Is there a reason you're so eager to get rid of me, Kingston?"

She coughs feebly. "Don't want you to get sick. And you need to go back to work – it's important."

Matt hums thoughtfully, toeing off his boots and pulling back her blankets. Alex almost wants to cry with relief as he reclines on the sofa, pulling her into him and covering them both with the blanket. She shivers, sniffling as she fists his shirt in her hand and shuts her eyes. Matt presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Nowhere's more important than here, love."

Alex sighs as the medicine begins to take effect, making her drowsy – or perhaps it's just the comfort of Matt's presence. "You're rather wonderful, you know," she says, yawning.

Matt chuckles and with her ear pressed to his chest, she feels it rumble through him. "I want to hear you say that again when you're not sick and drugged."

"Mmm."

Everything is warm and fuzzy. Matt's breath tickles her hair, and her head rises and falls with his every breath. His arms are warm and comforting around her, and Alex has never felt so taken care of.

She feels the rumble of Matt's voice again as he begins to murmur softly into her hair, lulling her to sleep with an old Elton John song. "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I'm not one of those

who can easily hide. I don't have much money, but girl, if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live."

Giggling into his chest, she loosens her tight grip on his shirt and just listens to the comforting sound of his voice in her ear. His voice is soft and smooth, soothing in a way nothing else could ever be. In the safety of his arms and wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, Alex is asleep before Matt even reaches the chorus.

"I hope you don't mind that I put down in words, how wonderful life is while you're in the world."

Chapter End Notes

Thanks you for the kudos and thanks to Trialia for editing this for us! This chapter written entirely by me, Friday. And the chapter title obviously comes from the Elton John's Your Song.

So much lighter since I met you

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Chapter Ten: So much lighter since I met you

Alex spends two hours before Matt comes over tidying up her house – the last time he was here, she had been a mess and so had her house. It's not the sort of impression she wants him to have of the place where she lives. Part time, anyway. Marie, the housekeeper, had left in the afternoon but somehow, the house had managed to fall into disarray once more. With only herself and Salome around, Alex can't help but wonder how they manage to make such a mess.

Having straightened the sofa cushions, put away Salome's paint supplies, shoved the laundry into the utility room and shut the door behind it, Alex walks into the kitchen to do a quick once-over and discovers Salome's crayons and colored pencils spilled out all over the counter and her daughter nowhere in sight.

"Salome!" she shouts. "What did I tell you about leaving your things out when you're through with them?"

"Sorry!" The doorbell rings and Alex sighs, running an agitated hand through her hair. From upstairs, Salome shouts, "I'll get it!" Alex hears thundering footsteps overhead and then racing down the stairs before skidding to a stop at the front door. "Matty!"

"There's my poppet!"

Smiling at the sound of Salome's squeal of delight, as Matt no doubt lifts her into the air, Alex shakes her head and moves toward the kitchen counter, beginning to pick up the rest of Salome's art supplies and bits of colored sugar paper.

"Where's your mummy, eh?"

"In the kitchen, being cross with me."

Matt laughs and Alex rolls her eyes, shoving crayons back into their box. "Ms. Kingston, what's this I hear about you being cross?"

Alex looks up and finds Matt standing in the doorway, Salome clinging to his neck. She feels most of her irritation melt away at the sight and she smiles, setting down the box and figuring Matt probably doesn't care about a bunch of crayons on her counter.

In jeans and one of those v-neck T-shirts he's so fond of, sunglasses dangling from the neck of his shirt and his hair falling into his eyes, Matt watches her with obvious fondness, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Alex suddenly wishes Salome wasn't in between them, so she could pull him to her and kiss that daft expression off his face.

"I'm never cross," she says instead.

Matt raises an eyebrow and he and Salome exchange looks of disbelief. Alex bursts into laughter and tosses a crayon at them. "Oh shut up, the pair of you."

Grinning, Matt sets Salome down, and she hops over to the bar stool and begins tearing methodically at a piece of sugar paper. Alex puts the crayons back for her daughter's use and wanders into the living room, knowing Matt will follow.

He does, coming up behind her and sliding his arms around her waist. His lips press insistently at the back of her neck, long fingers pushing her hair out of the way so he can mouth at her skin. "Hello," he greets warmly, smiling against her.

Alex smiles, sliding her hands down to cover his at her stomach and tilting her head to let him continue his very welcome ministrations. "Hello."

"Miss me?"

"Oh, terribly," she laughs. "Thank goodness you arrived when you did. I was about to faint from longing for you."

Matt snorts into her hair. "If you're going to be rude, I can just go."

Turning in his arms, Alex leans up and presses her lips against his. "Not until you've made dinner," she mumbles against his lips, grinning when she feels Matt smile against her mouth.

"Cheeky," he says, before he pulls her closer, and for a few minutes, she's too busy to say anything else.

In bare feet and jeans rolled up at the ankles as he stands in front of her open kitchen cabinets and stares into them, as if willing her empty cupboards to produce something edible, Matt looks entirely at home. Alex ignores the odd little thrill she gets at the thought that he looks like he belongs there.

"Your cupboards are appallingly bare," Matt declares, turning to glare at her.

Salome giggles from her spot sitting on top of the counter, and Alex holds up her hands in defense. "I haven't had time to grocery shop – we've been ordering in."

"Your poor child," he mumbles, ruffling Salome's hair as he passes her to open the fridge again. "Well not tonight, Salome! Matty is going to make you something that doesn't involve a takeaway menu."

Salome looks delighted at the thought of Matt cooking, and she swings her legs in excitement, her feet hitting the cabinets. "Can we have spaghetti? Please Matty?"

Matt turns to throw an accusing look at Alex once more. "No minced beef, poppet. Are you alright with just tomato sauce?"

Salome nods, and Matt begins to search for everything he'll need, rummaging around and mumbling to himself about unfit parents. Alex rolls her eyes at him and kisses Salome's temple. "I'm sorry I'm such a terrible mother, darling."

"It's alright, mom," Salome beams.

"Can't buy me love, love. Can't buy me love -"

Matt has switched on the CD player next to the jar of big wooden spoons – a compilation of Beatles classics – and is in the middle of foraging for the appropriate spoon and singing along, hips swaying a little.

Alex begins to laugh even as he turns on the spot and fixes her with a disapproving glare. He tosses a spoon to Salome and says, "Be my backup, poppet?"

Giggling, Salome hops off the counter with her spoon and Matt takes her hand, twirling her around the kitchen in her mismatched socks and sweat outfit.

"I'll give you all I've got to give, if you say you love me too. I may not have a lot to give, but what I've got I'll give to you."

Matt and Salome are singing into their wooden spoons and dancing around the kitchen, and Alex can't remember the last time she laughed so hard. Tears in her eyes, she can do nothing but play along when Matt takes her hand and pulls her up, holding her to him as Salome twirls around them.

"Sing it, Kingston," he murmurs into her ear over the music, and he puts the spoon to her lips, smiling brilliantly.

For a moment, Alex is breathless with how mad she is for this total lunatic in her kitchen, but when he quirks an eyebrow in challenge, she has no choice but to open her mouth and sing along.

"I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love."

Much later, after a rousing rendition of Yellow Submarine and Hey Jude, the three of them prepare to sit down to a dinner of Matt's "special" spaghetti, though what makes his particular combination of pasta and sauce different from any other, Alex can't begin to guess.

When she asks, Matt merely taps her on the nose and says, "It's a secret."

Salome is busy setting the table, still humming under her breath, so Alex steps close to Matt. His

hand is instantly on her hip, pulling her closer. "You're not going to tell me?"

He shakes his head, his eyes alight with amusement. "Maybe someday. When you've been a very good girl."

More than anything, Alex wants to lean up and bite his bottom lip and Matt looks like he wouldn't be opposed to the idea at all but the sudden clatter of cutlery sends them jumping apart guiltily.

Salome picks up the fork she dropped and takes it to the sink before getting a new one. "Where did you learn to cook, Matty?"

Clearing his throat and distancing himself from Alex, Matt says, "My mum taught me. Not much, just enough to get by in life without starving."

"Mom, how come you don't teach me how to cook?" Salome asks, beginning to fold the napkins.

"Because first she'd have to know how, poppet," Matt says and ducks with a shout of laughter when Alex throws a plastic cup at his head.

"You are horrible," she says, grinning.

"Says the woman who just threw a cup at my head," Matt points out, pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge for the two of them, and a carton of grape juice for Salome.

"It was entirely deserved." Alex leaves him to pour wine in their glasses and takes the juice to the table, pouring some into Salome's glass before taking a seat.

"Mommy makes the best chocolate chip cookies ever," Salome insists and Alex takes some comfort in the fact that she hasn't completely lost her daughter's loyalty to Matt.

"Thank you darling," she says.

Matt sets a glass of wine in front of her and Alex smiles up at him in thanks. "Chocolate chip,

huh?" He asks, looking thoughtful. "You wouldn't happen to have an urge to bake this evening, would you Kingston?"

Taking a sip of her wine, Alex taps her fingers against the table. "Well, I'd have to know how first. Can't even begin to imagine how to turn the oven on."

Matt pouts at her and she laughs. "Please? Biscuits? Please?"

"I don't have any ingredients," she insists. "There's a packet of Jammie Dodgers in the kitchen somewhere. Have those."

Looking to Salome, whose mouth is full of pasta, Matt asks, "How do you live with her? She's terribly inadequate."

"Oh thank you," she says dryly, and Matt grins at her. "Just see if I invite you to dinner again."

"Some invitation," he says. "I cooked!"

"Have I thanked you yet?" She asks, and when Matt shakes his head, she runs a bare foot over his calf under the table. His eyes widen. "Then remind me to do that later."

Matt swallows, reaching for his wine. "Will do," he says, voice squeaking.

Alex smiles and takes a bite of her pasta.

After dinner and dessert – Matt had only eaten a Jammie Dodger once she'd promised to bake him biscuits in the immediate future – they had played a game of cards around the kitchen table and Salome had beaten them both with embarrassing ease. When Matt grew tired of losing to a ten-year-old, he'd turned on the stereo again and waltzed them both around the kitchen and through the living room to music absolutely not meant for waltzing, like the Ramones. Breathless with laughter, Alex had clung to him as he danced her about, and she couldn't help but wish every night could be like this.

Now, with Matt waiting for her in the next room, Alex puts an exhausted but overexcited Salome to bed. Tucking the blankets up to her chin, Alex kisses her daughter on the forehead and reaches

over to turn out the light. "Mom?"

"Mmm?" She asks, stroking her daughter's hair back from her face.

"That was fun."

She smiles. "It was, wasn't it?"

Between work and traveling back and forth, and Salome's schoolwork and just everyday life, she sometimes forgets to have fun with her daughter. To stop being such an adult and dance around her house and sing into a spoon. Life should have more moments like those. Matt is slowly teaching her that, gifting her with these precious little memories.

Salome yawns, burrowing further into her covers. "Can we have Matty over for dinner all the time?"

Slowly, Alex's smile fades around the edges and she watches her daughter drift off to sleep, contented smile still on her face. She sighs and turns out the light, murmuring, "I wish we could, darling."

Matt relaxes back into the recliner, remote in hand, as he waits for Alex to come back from tucking in Salome. Today has been one of the best days he's had in quite a while. It's not often he and Alex are able to spend time with each other outside a hotel room, or on the set, and when they do, it's always fantastic. Especially when Salome is involved. She always has a new game she wants to try, or a drawing she wants him to help with. She's gotten rather good at painting daisies and he can't help but feel a sort of pride in the fact that he helped her achieve that.

When Alex reenters the living room, she is wearing his boxers (which he absolutely adores) and a tank top. He opens his arms, motioning for her to come sit in his lap. She smiles at him, moving to sit herself on top of him. Once she's settled, she takes the remote from his hands, places a small kiss on his mouth, and turns to the television.

"Let's see what's on telly, hm?" She suggests, wiggling deeper into his embrace. He'd tell her not to do that if he thought it would help, but with her, anything ignites his attraction to her, so he merely lets it go.

"Nothing exciting," he tells her with a pout, running his fingers down her sides. She giggles softly before pushing his hands away.

"There must be something on that you're willing to watch. These adverts are simply boring," she chastises, flicking through the channels.

"I really don't mind what we watch," Matt sighs, rubbing her knee. Her legs are draped across his lap, hanging off the arm of the chair. He's never been more comfortable in his life.

"Of course you don't," Alex groans, dropping the remote into her lap. "You know, I thought Salome would never go to sleep. You spoil her too much, especially with that singing battle game."

He laughs softly, mindful of the sleeping child down the hall. "You're just jealous that we won."

She rolls her eyes, turning to watch the advert that she seemingly couldn't escape. Matt takes the opportunity to lick her pulse point purposefully, tugging her body closer into his.

"Stop that," Alex moans quietly, tilting her head to give him more access. She's really a walking contradiction, he thinks.

"You sing beautifully," he breathes into her neck. He wraps his arms around her waist and rests his head on her shoulder. "What else do you do, besides act and sing?"

"Full-time mother, part-time madwoman," she says as she places a kiss to his temple. He likes this. He didn't have to lie to Daisy to come over here tonight, because she was away for work. He even cooked, which he hardly ever does.

"Apart from the obvious," he amends, biting her skin softly, quickly licking at the light red mark he leaves. "What do you like to do?"

She slides her hand into his, pulling his arm up so she can watch as their fingers entwine with each other. "Why don't you just Google me?"

He chuckles, running his thumb across the palm of her open hand. "Because I want to hear it from you, pet."

He can practically hear her eyes roll. She does that far too often around him, but he finds it sort of endearing, like most things she does. Like when she talks to him when she's sleeping, as if she's always aware when he's around, or when she quirks her shapely eyebrow. Or when she's frustrated, she pulls her hair back as if it is the cause of all her troubles.

"Well, I enjoy cleaning," she murmurs, rolling her head to look at him. "It's a nice way to relieve the stress of everyday life. I also like to dance, though I don't do it very often."

Matt stares into her hazel-green eyes, contemplating her words. "You like to clean?" He asks incredulously, pulling back to look at her fully.

"Come off it, you big lump. Just because you're lazy doesn't mean the rest of us have to be," she gripes, resting her head against his shoulder. He places a kiss to the top of her curls, breathing in deeply.

"I am not lazy," he protests, and then he's pushing her off his lap. She stares at him curiously, standing before him while he remains seated on her recliner. He pops to his feet, taking her hands into his, and pulls her in close.

"What are you doing, Matt?" She questions, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace. He makes a noncommittal sound in response, forgoing answering her question, and begins to hum softly, holding her hand against his chest. His other hand goes to rest against the small of her back as he begins to sway them gently.

"I happen to like to dance, myself," he informs her when he twirls her around gently. "Though I've heard I look like a giraffe when I do."

Alex shakes her head, amused. "Honestly, sweetie, you can be so thick sometimes. Your body does not work the way a normal man's does."

He cups her face when she looks at him again and moves to rest his forehead against hers. His thumb traces her cheekbone and he smiles. "I am going to take that as a compliment," he mumbles, licking his lips. "To continue, I also like to paint, obviously, and I actually quite enjoy

bubble baths."

She squints, mouth quirking the slightest bit. He honestly adores this woman. Alex Kingston is one of the sweetest, most beautiful women he has ever had the chance to meet.

"I happen to like bubble baths, myself," she repeats his earlier words, mischief shining in her eyes. He could have laughed out loud right then, if it weren't for Salome being asleep just in the other room. He could have done a lot of things just then, but he settles for kissing her.

It's a slow kiss and her hands come to lock around his neck as he tilts her backwards a bit, as if to end their dance with a dip. His tongue slides across her bottom lip, seeking entrance, and she opens willingly. Their tongues dance together just as they had been, slow and undemanding. Matt allows one hand to bury itself in her curls, the other holding her up by her backside.

It's nights like these where he wishes they weren't sneaking about and lying to everyone. He wants to talk to someone about how magnificent she truly is. He wants to tease the world with the knowledge that he gets to spend his free time with her and her beautiful daughter. He wishes he could just shout from the rooftops that he's one of the luckiest men in the world because Alex Kingston has allowed him into her home, but they promised. And that promise is what is keeping him tied to Daisy in a way he doesn't want to be.

That promise is what is keeping him from treating two of the most gorgeous ladies to midday picnics and playtime at the park.

And dear God, he hates that promise.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks to Trialia for Brit-picking this for us! And thank you guys for the kudos:) This chapter, the first two parts are written by me, Friday, and the last part is written by Brinney. Chapter title comes from the Coldplay song Green Eyes.

Stuck between me and you

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

As Matt strides up the walkway to Alex's door, he can see her silhouette. She's waiting for him (as always, he's a bit late) in the doorway, the light from her living room making her face a bit dark but her hair shine like gold.

She looks like sex personified, he thinks. Wearing (he's assuming) nothing but a trench coat and heels, the shiny black ones he likes so much. There's something white sticking out of one of the pockets of the coat and he wonders what it is.

His skin tingles at all the possibilities.

"Hello, darling," she greets when he's close enough, and now he can see the gloss of her lips and the flush of her cheeks.

"I certainly hope you've got something on under that coat of yours," he grins, coming to stand before her. Her hands are immediately on his hips, tugging him against her.

"No, you don't," she laughs as she pulls him backwards into her home. He's itching to kiss that tantalizing smile from her lips, but he isn't going to. Not yet, at least. He wants to hear her voice for a bit longer. That wicked lilt she gets when she's aroused (as she should be) is electrifying.

"No, I don't," he agrees. He throws away his desire to hear her voice, slanting his lips across hers as his fingers come to toy with the sash of the trench coat. She moans softly against his lips when his fingers slip inside. They coast across bare flesh and he pushes the coat open, pressing his clothed body into her naked one. Her hands pull him closer, clinging to the fabric of his jacket, and she's leading him back towards her room.

Their hands never leave each other, hers tearing off his jacket and shirt, his tweaking her nipples. When they reach her bedroom, she's got her hands halfway in his trousers, caressing his ever-hardening cock with quick, nimble hands. Their lips find each other again when she pulls him out, dropping his jeans and pants to the floor. He manages to step out of them and kick off his boots, and then she's pushing him onto the bed.

Alex straddles his thighs, mischievous grin in place as she reaches into the pocket of her coat. She pulls out a white feather, almost identical to a quill, and drags it across her lips.

"I think it's my turn to have control tonight," she suggests with a wink, leaning forward and tracing the feather down his heaving chest. The feel of the soft material tickles, and he squirms.

"I don't see why not," he replies with a smile. The smile is lost immediately when she spreads his legs for him, dropping between them and breathing hotly against his hard member. She twirls the feather in a circle around the tip, before dragging it down the length of him.

"Fuck, Alex," Matt groans, hips corkscrewing through the air at each swipe of the feather. The soft, tickling sensation along his cock is enough to make him ache, and oh fuck, her tongue is now chasing the feather. He buries his hands in her hair, gripping her scalp tightly as she moves the feather to his balls, and simultaneously takes the head of his prick into her mouth.

"Mmm," Alex moans, the action sending vibrations through his body. She is moving the feather slowly up and down the rigid lines of his balls, and he's torn between laughing out loud and thrusting into her mouth.

She swallows him down, wrapping her tongue around him like a ribbon, coating him in her slick saliva. He'll never get used to this, he thinks. The feel of her, any part of her, touching him in such an amazing way. He slips and thrusts into her mouth when her teeth scrape against his cock and the feather dips just a bit lower than his balls. She grunts, but continues what she's doing, free hand wrapping around the base to keep him from going any further inside.

His body is covered in a slick sheen of sweat and his breath is coming out roughly. Sprawled out across her sheets, her mouth on his cock and her hands teasing him, he never, ever wants to leave. But the longer she's down there, the less likely he is going to last.

"Love, you gotta…stop," Matt manages with eyes open wide. He stares down at her as she slides his erection from her mouth with a 'pop.' Her grin is satisfied, and she lets him drop against his stomach.

The feather is thrown away as he pulls her up to kiss her thoroughly. She takes advantage of their new position, sinking down on his slick erection. He bites down on her lip, hands going to her hips to help her set a rhythm (if it can be considered a rhythm. At this point, they're both desperate for each other, for release) and dipping into the soft flesh there. She moans into his mouth and he swallows the delicious sound.

"Christ, baby," he gasps against her lips. It's like a wild dance. She's moving so fluidly, so rapidly, up and down, choking him just right. He's closer to coming than she is, still high off her mouth wrapped securely around his cock.

"Make me come," Alex demands, licking his lips. Her hands go to his shoulders for more purchase as one of his dips between them. She's so wet (it always surprises him at how aroused she becomes from sucking him off), and his fingers slide against her with ease. He growls when his blunt nails come into contact with his own flesh, and her wanton moan fills the room.

The trench coat still clings to her body, the bottom brushing against his thighs with each down stroke. Her hair is a mess, sticking to her damp lips and forehead, as the rest bounces with her movements. It's an erotic sight, that hair, and Matt quickens his pace, both hips and fingers working faster and faster. She's making so much noise that it's driving him crazy.

"Matt," Alex whimpers, kissing his chin, his mouth, his nose. She pulls his head into her neck, resting her cheek against the top of his hair as they continue to rock against each other. He falls backwards, exhaustion slowly creeping upon his body. His hips snap to and fro, and his feet plant themselves solidly against the bed. She rises on her forearms, staring down at him. The new position causes his hand to have a little less purchase, but a hell of a lot more pressure.

She crumples with a shout, mouth attacking his with fervor. He groans with relief (he wasn't sure how much longer he could've held out) and she milks him for all he's worth. Her name falls off his lips and into her mouth like a mantra. With his hand still wedged between them, she twitches at any slight movement of his fingers, and he relishes in the reaction.

"You better not expect me to be able to move anytime soon," Alex warns, voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

He runs his free hand along her thigh, gripping the flesh tight before flipping her onto her back. He leans over her with a smirk, and she laughs, pulling him down for another kiss. It's languid, clouded with lack of energy, and he sighs into the deep kiss.

These are the kind of moments (not the ones during, though those are stupendously fantastic) that he enjoys the most. The quiet, gentle moments when it's just them and the post-coital cuddles. Her witty compliments about his sex drive, his soft caresses.

As she falls asleep against him, curled against his side and breathing softly into his neck, he knows he wants a million more times like this. A million, million more times wrapped up in her arms - no need to be anywhere else, no pressing matters to attend to.

Just them, together.

XxX

When Alex wakes up, the smell of ginger tea is permeating her entire house. Smiling sleepily, she stretches underneath the blankets, not at all surprised to find Matt's side of the bed empty. The man can never sit still.

Yawning, Alex sits up and spots Matt's clothes still on her floor. Apparently, he's wandering around her house in his boxers. The thought is an appealing one. Noticing that she's no longer wearing her trench coat, she realizes Matt must have slipped it off her while she slept. Smiling a little, Alex picks up her dressing gown from the chair next to her bed and slips into it.

Fluffing her mussed curls, she pads down the hall and into the kitchen. Standing bare-chested at the counter with a mug in one hand, Matt flips idly through the newspaper, eyes quickly scanning the pages. He looks comfortable here, she thinks, with his rumpled bed hair and contented expression.

Clearing her throat, Alex leans against the doorway and smiles when he starts in surprise. A smile blossoms across his face at the sight of her and it's so adorable that she wants to cross the room and kiss him.

"Hello," he says, scratching at the back of his head before gesturing to his mug. "I helped myself. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she says. "But don't you have to go home?"

Matt looks offended. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No," Alex laughs. "I just thought you were living with someone who would notice your prolonged absence."

"Not today," he winks.

Alex studies him for a moment. His face is the picture of hope and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. She can't say no. She never can when it comes to him. "All right," she sighs, shaking her head when he grins outright. "You can stay for another hour, but then Salome is due home and you need to be gone before then."

Matt offers her a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

She rolls her eyes. "Shut up and make me a cuppa."

While Matt goes about plucking a mug from her cabinet – her favorite mug, though how he knows that is beyond her – Alex takes a seat at the counter and watches him pour her tea. She's leaving to go back to America this week, and the thought of leaving him and his rather wonderful tea-making skills behind is unpleasant, to say the least. And she's certainly going to miss the kissing…among other things. She wonders if she could put him in her suitcase and just store him as a carry-on for the flight home. He is thin, but he's also quite lanky. He probably wouldn't fit.

Oblivious to her daft plotting, Matt sets her mug down in front of her and sits on the stool next to hers, going back to his paper. Peering at him over the rim of her mug, Alex watches him scan the sports section with unabashed fondness. He hums quietly under his breath as he reads and it's impossible not to find him adorable just then. She slips her foot between his legs, wrapping one of her own around his ankle. Glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, Matt smiles.

For a while, there is nothing but comfortable silence between them as Matt frowns over football scores and Alex sips at her tea. The thought comes into Alex's head that they're being awfully domestic, but she pushes it away forcefully. She can over-analyze their every action later, but right now, she just wants to relax. It isn't often that they get such quiet moments together.

When Matt finishes with the paper, he pushes it toward her but Alex has no desire to read right now. Her desire at this particular moment is busy flipping through the stack of books Salome had abandoned on the counter before she left today.

Matt runs his index finger over the bindings as he reads the titles, mouth pursed. When he finds one he likes, he plucks it from the stack with what he probably thinks is impressive finesse, but he sends the whole pile toppling to the floor and Alex rolls her eyes. Typical.

"Matilda," he reads, opening the book to flip through it. "Is she reading this for school?"

Alex shakes her head. "No, she just likes reading. Not much else to do when I'm filming and

she's stuck on set with me."

"Hmm…" Matt flips back to the beginning of the book and it takes Alex a moment to realize what he's doing as he begins to read, "It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their child is the most -"

Laughing a little, she asks, "Why are you reading out loud? Is this story hour?"

"Shh," Matt shushes her, holding a finger to her lips. Alex resists the urge to take it into her mouth, pursing her lips instead. "You told me before that you like being read to. I'm reading to you. Hush."

As he begins again, starting all over with exaggerated patience in his voice, Alex watches him with slightly misty eyes. He makes her tea; he actually listens to her when she talks about silly things like being read to. Is there anything about him that won't make her want to melt into a gooey puddle of adoration? Even when he's flailing about like he has no control of his limbs and knocking things over left and right, she finds it charming. Why can't she find an unattached man her age with these qualities? Well, minus the inherent clumsiness.

Resting her head against her folded arms, Alex closes her eyes and just listens to the sound of his voice for a while. It would be relaxing if it weren't for the fact that his voice alone is enough to send heat pooling in her stomach. The majority of the time he reads she spends biting her lip and forcing herself not to crawl into his lap. After a while, she opens her eyes to watch him, which is a mistake. Matt licks his finger to turn the page and Alex cannot be expected to just sit there anymore. Reaching out, she plucks the book from his hands and tosses it aside. It lands with a thwack against her tiled kitchen floor.

"Oi!" Matt frowns after the book and then looks back at her with a pout. "I thought you liked being read to."

She smiles at him and tugs him close with her hand gripping his chin. He blinks at her, his nose brushing against hers. "Oh, I do and you're lovely for remembering."

Matt quirks an eyebrow. "But…?"

"But," Alex lets go of his chin to trail a finger down his cheek in a light caress. "I'm suddenly thinking of other things you're good at doing with that voice."

Slow smile breaking out over his face, Matt says, "In that case, Ms. Kingston - " she yelps when he suddenly takes her by the hips and lifts her with surprising strength onto the counter. "Allow my humble voice to be of service."

She giggles as he rises to his feet, standing between her legs and pressing his mouth to hers. Alex wraps her arms around his neck and sighs into his kiss, one leg slipping around his waist to draw him closer. Groaning, Matt pulls away to press soft, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. When her dressing gown gets in the way, he growls and reaches for the cord, untying it deftly.

"Matt," she whimpers as his hands slide beneath her robe to meet naked skin.

"Shh," Matt shushes her again with a grin, pushing her robe from her shoulders. "Quiet, Kingston. It's story hour – a bit of respect, if you don't mind."

Before she can form a response, his mouth covers hers again and the last thing on her mind is keeping quiet.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! You guys make us smile:) In this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. Chapter title comes from the Ida Maria song I Like You So Much Better When You're Naked. Go look it up – it's impossible to be in a bad mood listening to that song.

Let my fingers do the walking

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Alex groans, rolling over on her mattress to bury her head further into her pillows. It's been harder and harder to fall asleep in her oversized bed, without Matt next to her.

She tried to play it off at first, simply believing it was having someone else in the bed with her. It gets so lonely to sleep alone, and she's always been a cuddler. But eventually, she realized it wasn't just a body she was missing, but his. The way he molds himself to her back while his fingers dance down her bare arms. The way he whispers to her about his day, pausing every once and a while to kiss her neck. She even misses the way his prominent hipbones poke at her lower back.

Huffing, she looks at her alarm clock, sighing when she sees it's two in the morning. She laid down three hours ago. This was really getting ridiculous.

Being in America definitely put a damper on the whole physical aspect of their affair. She knew this would happen - it's not as if she is in England all the time, and now that Doctor Who is finished filming for a while, she'll be there even less than before. Now, all they have are late/early phone calls and absurd texts.

Thinking of her mobile now, Alex reaches over to her nightstand and snatches up the small device. Pressing back into her pillows, hair fanning out around her head, she squints at the bright screen, typing away at the tiny keyboard.

I can't sleep.

Simple enough, she thinks, laying the phone down on her chest, silently awaiting the reply. Knowing Matt, it won't take long.

As if on cue, her phone vibrates, tickling her skin lightly.

Need me to sing you a lullaby? ;)

A grin spreads across her face, and she doesn't stop to wonder at how easily he can lighten her

mood.

If you're not too busy. Though I'm not too sure about your singing voice.

A minute later and her phone buzzes, a picture of Matt making a goofy face popping up on her screen. Smothering a laugh at how he'd managed to change his contact picture without her knowing, she answers with a quiet, "Hello."

"You know my singing voice is fantastic," he defends immediately, and his voice is loud and such a comfort.

"Okay, okay," she laughs softly, scooting further down in her sheets. "What are you doing?"

"Watching the telly. Honestly, it's not as fun without you here. There's no one to make fun of the silly people with," he whines, and she can hear the drone of the news on in the background.

"So Daisy's out then?" Alex asks, trying to seem less hopeful than she really is and failing miserably.

"Mhm. Had breakfast with Kaz this morning, which was lovely. Our waitress's name was Alex, though she lacked your amazing good looks and sexy hair. Drove me crazy, it did."

She is not smiling like a schoolgirl. Really, she isn't.

"Should have called me sooner, you dolt," Alex chastises, humor evident in her voice.

"I should have," he murmurs, voice low and she can't be blamed for the shivers that run across her body at the sound. Oh, she's missed it. "What are you doing?"

She bites her lip at how seductive that sounds, realizing quickly that this conversation is taking a totally different turn than she expected.

"Lying in bed," she responds quietly, staring down at her tank top. Why are her nipples hard?

There is no reason for that. No reason at all.

"S'that all?" He asks huskily, and she hears him moving. She is suddenly nervous for what might transpire. Phone sex is definitely something she hasn't done before and if that's about to happen, oh god. Her thighs clench at the thought.

"Is there something else I should be doing?" The tremor in her voice is unmistakable and she silently damns herself for being so transparent.

"Mm, I could think of a few things," Matt states suggestively, the muffled sounds around him ceasing. "To start, what are you wearing?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?" She laughs loudly, covering her mouth with her hand a moment later. The blush creeping up her neck is not something she's used to. She is forty-eight years old, damn it. She does not get embarrassed or shy over something like this.

"Come on, love, play along," he chuckles. She's really about to do this, isn't she? She's about to have phone sex with Matt Smith and the thought of it is turning her on far too much.

"Er, I'm wearing a white tank top and a pair of black shorts," she whispers, free hand running along her slim stomach.

"The black ones that hug your bum beautifully?" He inquires roughly, the sound of it causing her fingers to dig into her stomach.

"The very same," she confirms, bunching her tank top in her grasp.

"Take your top off for me," he demands and it's so abrupt that a soft moan leaves her mouth even as she sits up to do as she's told. The phone is back at her ear in a second, and his soft breath is floating to her ears.

"Done," she breathes, resting back against the bed.

"I can see it," he murmurs. More rustling occurs and she imagines him settling down in his bed. "I can see you laid out for me - that glorious hair framing your face as your breasts rise and fall with

a bounce that can hardly be described."

"Matt," Alex whines, free hand tracing the side of her breast. This was too much, the way he's describing everything with that voice. Oh, that voice, with the way it seemed to coast over her body as he whispered naughty things into her skin. She brushes her thumb across her nipple, back arching as a low moan leaves her mouth.

"Play with your nipple, love. Imagine that's my hand; those are my fingers pinching your nipple almost hard enough to hurt. Let me hear it, Alex," Matt commands, voice breathless and she wonders if he's got a hand wrapped around his erection like she thinks he does. The thought is intoxicating and she closes her eyes, envisioning him with his knees bent, feet on his bed as his hand pumps his cock slowly.

"Ughnn," she groans softly. It is terribly difficult to keep her voice down so she doesn't wake her daughter, when all she wants to do is show him just how much of an affect he has on her, loudly.

"That's it, sweetheart, now lick your fingertips for me."

"I want you, so bloody badly," she moans before complying, slipping her thumb and forefinger into her mouth, swirling her tongue around them before placing them back on her nipple. She gasps as the air sweeps across the wet peak, arching into her fingers.

His breath is ragged in her ear as he listens to her tease herself. He is working himself over, she thinks, listening to the way his breath hitches every couple seconds.

"Are you…" she pauses, panting heavily when she tugs at the peak harshly. She doesn't have to finish her question, because he's talking again.

"I'm running my hand down your stomach, dipping my thumb into your bellybutton just once," he tells her lowly, and her own hand follows his words to the letter. Her thumb drops into her bellybutton, and her fingers brush the waistline of her shorts. She squeezes the phone in her hand, licking her lips quickly as they dry out from the continuous pants leaving her mouth. "I move to your shorts, and you don't have any knickers on, do you? You don't, and you arch, silently begging me to touch you where you need it most. Just tonight, I give in, teasing your clit with soft strokes."

She slips her hand past the barrier of her shorts, silently cursing him for knowing her so well as she teases herself softly. She whimpers, eyes screwed shut as her hips arch of their own accord

and her finger brushes more firmly against her clit.

"How wet are you?" He asks and the words are strangled. The question sends a slash of pleasure straight to her abdomen and she bites down on her lip, hard.

"So wet," she whimpers as her fingers slide down her slit, toying with her entrance.

"Describe how it feels. Please."

"Mmn, warm, slick. It aches, Matt. I ache, so much," Alex moans, pressing her fingers harder against her clit. "I want to…Can I…?"

"Can you what, baby? Come on, tell me what you want," he says and she could have rolled her eyes at that if she wasn't already so desperate for release. Of course he wouldn't let her get away with getting off so easily.

"I want to come," she whispers, gnawing at her upper lip. "I want your fingers inside me. God, I want to kiss you until I don't remember who the hell I am."

His answering groan drives her crazy, and the phone nearly drops from her hand as her body jerks with the force of having two of her fingers slip deep inside her. It was accidental, she tries to convince herself, but she doesn't stop it.

"Me too," he finally manages, sounding strained. She licks her lips again, fingers beginning a slow pace, thrusting in and out of her wet opening. "You're inside, aren't you? Ughn, you're feeling your warmth, the tightness around your fingers. The way you quiver, only slightly, when your fingers curl. Tell me what you're feeling."

She has to take a moment to catch her breath and adjust the phone between her shoulder and cheek so it doesn't move. She takes her now free hand and gently massages her clit, while her other hand continues to move in and out of her body with leisurely thrusts.

"I'm feeling you," she mewls, back arching off the bed as she brings her feet up to rest on the bed, legs opening wider. "The way you finger me slowly, at first, just to get me angry with you. Oh, I get so angry, don't I? I beg you and beg you, and all you do is laugh, uhnn…"

"Faster, Alex," he commands unevenly, breath harsher than before. "I'm close and I can't…"

Alex tilts her hips up, angling herself for better access. She pulls her fingers out almost all the way before slamming them back inside. The motion causes her to jerk, fingers pressing harder and harder against her clit. She moans out Matt's name, probably too loudly, and the phone falls from its perch down to rest against her chest. She pays it no mind, adding a third finger as her rhythm is lost. She's so close, and if she listens hard enough, she can hear Matt's loud grunts coming from her mobile.

Head tilted all the way back against the pillows, her eyes shoot open as a long moan leaves her throat. She clenches around her fingers uncontrollably, hips bucking from the bed as her fingers work her clit over once, twice more. Collapsing to the bed, she breathes deep in an attempt to control her body. She looks from her hands to her cell, resting between her breasts, and grimaces. She always gets messy and it's all his fault. She reaches over to her nightstand, opening a drawer and pulling out a packet of tissues. She wipes her fingers off quickly, tossing the tissue onto the nightstand.

Grabbing the phone, she places it slowly back to her ear. He's breathing slower, though still quite loud.

"Matt?" She questions quietly, rolling over onto her side to alleviate some of the heat that has accumulated around her body. The cool air washes over her damp body and she sighs, burying her face into her pillow.

"Mmmhm," he answers. He sounds sated and she smiles.

"Maybe next time I'll break out the rabbit," she suggests. She's much calmer now, exhaustion creeping over her.

"So glad you agree there should be a next time," he chuckles breathlessly, before pausing. "Wait, rabbit?"

She grins, letting out a small yawn. "You'll see."

Fortunately, Matt is too tired to press the issue, and she merely gets a sigh in response. "You good to sleep now?" He questions softly, and she can hear him settle further into the mattress.

"Totally, you sex-fiend," she laughs, pulling her comforter back up around her body. It's still early for him, she knows, but the man could sleep at any time of the day.

"Minx," he shoots back gently, and she giggles.

"Goodnight, Matt," Alex mumbles, still holding the phone tight to her ear. But he's already fast asleep and she's too tired to hang up.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! This chapter was written entirely by Brinney. Basically filler while they're away from each other. Chapter title from the P!nk song Fingers.

No place on this earth that's too far

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Alex hates karaoke bars.

It's probably the corniest form of entertainment imaginable in her eyes, but tonight she has been outvoted. Sitting at a table in the back of a popular bar in Los Angeles with a group of single mothers, she watches person after person come up to the microphone and belt out songs like I Will Survive, Summer Nights, YMCA and Like A Virgin – the last one had involved a lot of drunken rolling about on the stage and a bit of a strip tease before the girl's friends had hauled her away.

It had been her friend Regina's idea to hit the LA nightlife, once Alex had mentioned that Salome was with her father that week. Now, surrounded by a bunch of single women without their children for the night – all positively tipsy on margaritas – Alex is beginning to regret agreeing to join them.

She spends most of her time sipping her margarita and hiding her phone under the table as she texts Matt. At the moment, she's waiting for a response to her 'Why do so many people like margaritas? I feel like I'm drinking an adult slurpie.' Across from her, Regina, Julie, and Anna are all swaying along to the music and clapping wildly. Alex is pretty sure Anna is two seconds away from standing on top of her chair and ripping her shirt off – and she's only on her first drink.

Raising an eyebrow at them and trying to tune out the sound of a rather bad rendition of the Rolling Stones song Start Me Up, Alex wonders how long it will take before her friends are dragging her onstage to sing something. She gives them another five minutes and one more drink before the thought occurs to them.

Her phone buzzes in her hand and Alex glances down to read her message. 'You're obviously too sophisticated for this group, Kingston.'

She smiles down at her phone, shaking her head.

"All right, that's it."

Alex glances up, startled, to find Regina staring at her with a smirk. "What?"

Crossing her arms over her chest and tossing back dark hair, Regina says, "You have been texting on that thing practically all night, and whenever you get a message, you smile like David Beckham just dropped his pants right in front of you."

Alex snorts.

"Who are you texting?"

"No one."

Regina raises an eyebrow.

"Just Karen."

"Well which one is it? No one or Karen?"

"Oh bugger off, Regina," Alex laughs, plucking the paper umbrella from her drink and chucking it at her.

Regina shrieks in surprise and Julie and Anna laugh as she struggles to fish it out of her top. "Damn you, Alex."

Alex blows her a kiss and claps her hands together. "All right. Who's ready to sing?"

"Me!" Anna practically bounces in her seat, blonde hair swaying with her frenetic movements. "Let's do this!"

Julie shrugs. "Only if we don't sing something ridiculous. I can't handle warbling my way through Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy again."

Alex sends Matt a one-worded text. 'Listen.'

"Well it's better than the time you made us sing Baby Got Back!" Regina shoots back, and Julie glares while Anna snorts into her drink. "And you - " Regina points a manicured finger at Alex. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing. You can't distract me, Alex Kingston."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Alex replies innocently, scrolling through her phone for Matt's number. "Now, I'm picking the song."

"And what would that be?" Anna asks, leaning forward so far in her seat that Alex is afraid she might fall forward and smack her chin against the table.

She smirks. "You'll see."

She dials Matt's number as her friends troop towards the stage and knowing he'll answer, she leaves her phone open on the table and makes her way to the front of the bar. She selects the song she wants and joins her friends, where they're swaying drunkenly in their high heels.

They all gather around the microphone as the music starts up, and upon realizing what song Alex has chosen, they all shriek with laughter and shove at her, scandalized.

"I wanna see your peacock, cock, cock, your peacock, cock."

Before long, they have their arms around each other, singing into the microphone without a bit of shame, much to the delight of their cheering audience.

"Word on the street, you got something to show me. Magical, colorful, Mr. Mystery. I'm intrigued for a peek, heard it's fascinating. Come on baby, let me see what you're hiding underneath."

For the duration of the ridiculous song, Alex lets herself forget about the audience in front of her and focuses on the fact that Matt is listening in on their performance. She shimmies against Anna – who laughs and flashes her thigh – and tilts her head back against Julie, letting her voice go a little sultry.

Somewhere in the audience, someone wolf whistles and Alex smiles.

When the song is over and the applause and hooting has died down, Alex leaves her friends to the group of men suddenly surrounding them, slipping through the crowd and back to her table.

"You're so bad, Alex!"

Alex glances back to give Regina a thumbs up and a grin, before picking up her phone and making her way to the loo. "You there?"

"Of course I am, you horrible minx." Matt laughs, obviously amused, and Alex feels more than a little pleased with herself. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me? Teasing me when you're thousands of miles away?"

"Didn't you like it?" She asks, smiling as she locks herself in a stall and leans against the wall.

"Not the point," he scolds, groaning.

"I think it's entirely the point," she counters, enjoying herself immensely. "I was merely serenading you, darling."

"Hate you."

"You don't."

He sighs, offering no objection. "Where are you, anyway? It's not so noisy now."

"I'm hiding in the loo."

Matt laughs. "Why are you hiding in the loo?"

"So I can talk to you without my drunken friends trying to find out who I'm on the phone with." Alex traces the lettering carved into the stall door with her index finger – Jill + Darren 4ever – smiling a little at the blatant vandalism. She remembers being that young. "Besides, after that song, they're getting quite a bit of attention."

"Let me get this straight," Matt says, and Alex takes a moment to enjoy the sound of his voice. It's been entirely too long since she's been able to put a face to that lovely voice. "Your friends are out there drinking and carousing with men who want to get into their knickers after that rather sexy rendition of a very silly, naughty song, and you're…hiding in the loo."

"Yes."

"And you called me."

She hesitates this time, pausing with her finger hovering over '4ever'. "Yes."

"I'm feeling rather flattered right now, Kingston."

"You're just lucky the room was full of ugly men tonight," she says, smiling when his laughter fills her ears.

"Don't ruin this beautiful moment between us with your cheek," he says teasingly. "Bloody hell, don't you know how to be romantic?"

"Not a romantic bone in my body, love. Sorry."

"Liar."

The thing is, Alex isn't entirely sure she is lying. It's been a while since she has felt the need or inclination for romance. Is that what this is? Serenading someone certainly seems romantic, if she leaves out the part about the whole song referring to genitalia. She supposes it could be her own twisted, perverse attempt at romance, but why would she try to be romantic to begin with? Hadn't they agreed from the very beginning that what they had wasn't a relationship? They had promised that it wouldn't interfere with their everyday lives, that it wasn't love and they wouldn't treat it as such.

So what is she doing, singing to him and sneaking away from a night out with her friends to talk to him? Why is she inviting him over for dinner at her townhouse and slow dancing with him in her living room?

Alex is good at making rules, but when it comes to following them, she tends to run into trouble. And it's only going to hurt in the end, isn't it? It always does. Why does she do this to herself? Allow herself to get attached, even when she knows it all means nothing?

"Alex? You still there?"

Swallowing around the sudden lump in her throat, Alex manages, "Uh, yes. Sorry. I've-I've got to go."

"Oh, all right. Didn't find a good-looking bloke, did you?"

She smiles despite herself. "None but you, honey."

"See?" He says, sounding pleased. "You know how to be romantic."

She shuts her eyes. "I'll talk to you later."

"Have fun, Kingston."

Alex hangs up, slipping her phone into her pocket. Leaning her head back against the wall, she sighs and stares at the carving on the door. Over the pounding music outside, she whispers to herself, "What are you doing?"

Chapter End Notes

Hello all! Thanks so much for your comments and for those of you who have left kudos! Okay, this chapter was written entirely by me, Friday. Trialia wasn't available to be our beta this time, so any mistakes are entirely mine. Sorry it's kind of short but it's basically just another filler chapter for while they're apart. The chapter title comes from the song Run by Rex Goudie.

I wanna lock you up in my closet

Chapter Notes

Quick translation of some key words:

honey cooler = kiss

cash or check = now or later

and everything else is pretty much self-explanatory.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Karen had invited him and Daisy to her "epic Halloween bash" (her words, not his), Matt had agreed immediately. The idea of spending a night with his closest friends, while being dressed up as someone else outside of work, away from being told what to do, is honestly too good to pass up.

And, of course, Alex is in America.

Dressed up in his perfectly ironed, not-a-wrinkle-in -sight zoot suit, Matt enters Karen's party with a tipped hat, a small smirk and a Pocahontas-Daisy on his arm.

He hopes no one asks why they don't match – she'd wanted him to be John Smith, and he's gone by that alias often enough, thanks – because that argument is not something Matt wants to remember right now. Not that it truly matters, because five minutes into the party, Daisy is dragged away, much to her delight, by the seventeen other Disney characters that have shown up.

On his own, Matt strolls through the house, weaving in and out of the multiple people that have shown up, silently wishing he'd had the chance to call Alex before he arrived.

What were she and Salome doing for Halloween? Did Alex even have her?

Not knowing slightly bothers him, but he shrugs off the feeling, searching every face for the ginger he's come to know and love. When he finally spots her, a grin lights up his face.

What is with the women at this party dressing up as Disney characters?

"Ariel, hm?" He questions as he comes to stand by her. She pauses in her conversation with a man he doesn't know, turning to face him.

"Well, I have the hair," Karen laughs, tossing her wavy red hair, smiling brightly at him. She falters for a moment as she takes him in, the outfit lost on her.

"I'm a gangster, obviously," Matt states proudly, tugging on the lapels of his jacket. There are definitely some things that playing the Doctor has rubbed off on him and being proud of what he's wearing is one of them.

"What's with the high-waist pants?" She asks, obviously confused.

"Oh, Kaz," he sighs, but it's all in good fun. "A zoot suit, which is what I am wearing, was often worn by Italian Americans, African Americans and Mexican Americans during the late 1930's-"

"Okay, Matt, I don't need a history lesson," Karen laughs, shoving at him. "Have you run into everyone, then?"

"Who, exactly, is 'everyone'?" He inquires, eyes glancing over the crowd of people surrounding them. The man Karen had been speaking to, he notices, is still standing there and waiting to continue his conversation.

"Oh you know, the Who cast and crew. Arthur's around here somewhere and so is Steven, Sue, Beth, Alex-"

"Wait, Alex is here?" Matt asks quickly. Realizing that sounded a little too excited, he schools his expression when he turns back to look at Karen.

"Oh, yeah. I guess it was Florian's turn to spend Halloween with Salome," she shrugs, accepting a drink from one of the waiters as they walked by. Karen certainly went all out for this, didn't she? "So when I invited her, she agreed. It didn't take nearly as much convincing as I was expecting it to."

"Huh, yeah. Well, it seems like your friend here would like to continue his conversation with you, so I'll leave you to it," Matt smiles, excusing himself quickly. The next fifteen minutes are spent wandering through the house in an attempt to find the one woman he really wants to see, and avoid the one he doesn't.

When he finally spots her, he forgets how to breathe. She stands next to the fireplace with her back turned to him – though he'd recognize that hair anywhere, never mind how many times he has mapped the line of her spine, or the dip of her lower back. The neckline of the deep red dress she wears, from what he can tell, rests just atop her (lovely) breasts, wrapping around her body and dipping low, stopping just above her bum. Her back is bare and her hair is pulled back, decorated with a headband that sports a small feather. Draped across her arms and hanging just below her bum is a red feather boa to match her dress. The heels she wears could easily be used as a weapon.

It takes a moment for him to register what she is but when he does, a devilish smirk appears on his face.

A flapper.

How fitting they'd both choose something from the early 1900s, he thinks. How fitting indeed.

She's chatting away with a playboy bunny, and Matt silently makes his way over to them. By the time he reaches her, the bunny has walked away, leaving Alex standing by herself and looking absolutely gorgeous. He cannot help the first words that leave his mouth.

"How about a honey cooler, eh, moll?" He taunts in his best Italian accent, leaning over to whisper in her ear. Alex pivots to face him, green eyes lighting up when she sees what he's wearing. He falls back onto the balls of his feet, bouncing lightly. He slips his hands into his pockets and nods in her direction, tilted hat nearly falling off his head from the movement. Her bottom lip snatched by her teeth, she steps closer, allowing enough space between them to deem their conversation as nothing more than friendly to those around them.

"Cash or check?" She grins, voice high-pitched and rather American.

His smirk grows.

"I'd say cash, doll, but there're too many Joe's and gold diggas around, and a dish like yaself can never be too careful," Matt says, motioning with his head to the people that mingle around them.

"Oh, these dumb Dora's? They don't know from nothing," Alex replies dismissively, rolling her eyes. Her smile grows larger, teeth showing as she moves in closer.

"It's just gunna have to wait, sweetheart," he chuckles, taking one of her hands in his to twirl her around.

Face flushed, Alex laughs out loud, resting a hand on her chest, as if trying to calm her heart. "You're a gangster!"

"And you, my pet, are a flapper. Great minds think alike, eh?"

"Oh, sweetie, they do," she agrees. She stares at him, eyes wide with mirth, and he tips his hat in formal greeting.

"I didn't know you were going to be here," he accuses softly, leaning against the stone fireplace.

"I didn't know I was, either, until last week," Alex confirms, crossing her arms over her chest. She toys with the ends of the feather boa and he fights the urge to grab them and drag her into his body.

His girlfriend is somewhere around here and he really doesn't want to get publicly humiliated by her or the press for something as silly as kissing Alex Kingston.

He snorts. As if kissing Alex could be considered silly. What on Earth had he been thinking?

"I'd really like to kiss you now," Matt mutters, hands curling into fists in his pockets. At his admission, Alex's breath hitches. She backs up slowly, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Daisy's here, then?" She asks with a quirk of her brow, smile never leaving her face. His sigh is answer enough, and Alex licks her lips. "Wait five minutes, then go down the hall. Five minutes, Matt."

He doesn't need to ask her why. In moments, she has disappeared down the hall, leaving him to

fight the urge to chase after her immediately. Tapping his foot, he tries to appear like he's enjoying himself. When he catches sight of Daisy across the room, he decides it's a great time to follow the path Alex just took.

Once down the darkened hall, he slows his pace to a crawl, trying to discern where she could have possibly disappeared. He squints in an attempt to help his eyes adjust faster. There are far too many doors down this way, and the stairs leading up at the end do not help his predicament.

"Alex," he stage-whispers. The squeak of surprise he makes when a hand shoots out from what looks like a closet is something he'll worry about later because all of a sudden, Alex's hands are buried deep in his hair, his hat falling to the floor. The door closes behind him and her tongue is sliding in his mouth.

Matt's hands wrap around her hips immediately, tugging her in closer. Pushing her against the shelves occupied by towels, he lifts her up, bunching up the material of her costume in his fists. Her ankles wrap around his back and Matt groans, grinding his hips into hers.

"You couldn't even make it five minutes," Alex moans disapprovingly, once the kiss is broken. His mouth is attached to her neck and he doesn't answer her. One of his hands comes up to cup her breast, pinching at the nipple through the fabric. "Five minutes, one hundred and uhhn, thirty seconds."

Matt lifts his head, nipping at her lips as she continues to chastise him. He keeps his hands from her hair, not wanting to ruin it, and instead he pushes her against the shelves a bit harder. Her approving grunt when their groins grind together nearly drives him over the edge. He grabs her forearms, locking her wrists together in one hand, over her head, and leans down to capture her already swollen lips with his again.

He pushes his tongue into her mouth, groaning when she sucks on it lightly. His free hand moves down between their bodies, slipping beneath the risen hem of her dress, and he groans at what he finds.

"No knickers?" Matt inquires breathlessly, fingers sliding against her heat. She doesn't reply, head thrown back against the shelf behind her head. Her arms struggle against his hold and he releases her, moving his now empty hand to her waist to hold her still.

"Mmmn," Alex moans as he thumbs her clit purposefully. He loves seeing her like this, so far gone, so willing to do anything to get off. He presses down harder against her swollen nub, leaning down to lick the shell of her ear.

"What do you want me to do, baby?" He croons in her ear, toying with her opening. Her hips buck against his hand, causing his own hand to brush against his erection. He bites his lip, fighting to control the movement of his hips as her hands find purchase on his biceps.

"I just…" She trails off, lifting her head to stare at him with intense green eyes. "I want you to make me scream."

Her assertiveness always surprises Matt, but he slips two fingers in deliberately. Her thighs tighten around his hips and he does his best to thrust into her body with his hand wedged between them securely. She keeps her gaze locked on his, her mouth forming an 'o' shape. He licks at her lips, resting his forehead against hers. He feels her body tighten, clench around his fingers, and he can tell she's close. He thrusts twice more before removing his fingers and bringing his hand up to his face. She beats him to it, taking his wrist and sliding his fingers into her mouth.

The feel of her tongue swirling around his digits is enough to make him lose control. He pulls his fingers from her mouth, replacing them with his eager mouth. Oh, he can taste her and it's brilliant. Alex unhooks her legs from around his waist, dropping them to the ground. Once she's standing again, she breaks the kiss to nip at his earlobe.

"Fuck me," she whispers hotly in his ear, fingers already reaching for the belt wrapped tightly around his ribcage. The belt is undone and the oversized pants hit the floor in seconds. Alex doesn't waste time, slipping her hand into his boxers to wrap her hand around him tightly. Matt bites down on her neck to contain his groan, hand slipping down her top to fondle her breast.

She tugs at the velvet skin and if he doesn't stop her now, this will end as a simple hand job instead of a good, thorough rump.

"Alex, baby, you gotta stop thaaa…" He gasps, because right as he says those words, her hand forms a tight circle around the tip and oh, lord.

"Pick me back up," Alex commands, hand never leaving his erection. He complies, hands wrapping firmly around her thighs and hefting her up into her previous position. In her free hand, she has managed to pick his hat back up, and she places it firmly on his head. When he looks at her quizzically, she tightens her grip around his length and shrugs. "I like it on you."

Whatever his response was going to be is lost in the groan he releases when her hand guides him into her wet heat. He doesn't wait, because it has been far too long since he's been inside her, and he thrusts in all the way with one quick movement.

"Unng," Alex moans loudly, head falling against his. Her right hand keeps his hat in place, the left wrapping around his neck. Their breath mingles together as he pulls back, pounding into her again, and again.

"Come on, love," he manages, wrapping a hand around her waist. He takes her bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before letting it go and kissing her quickly. "Scream for me."

Her answering moan is extremely satisfying, and his thirst for more grows. He slips his hand back in between their bodies, two fingers working over her clit as his hips snap back and forth.

"Matt," she gasps loudly, drawing out the singular syllable of his name to make it sound like two. His lips slant over hers, swallowing her loud gasps. He pushes his tongue in and out her mouth in time with his thrusts, and his fingers move faster, harder against her.

Alex clenches down around him rhythmically, and, knowing what's coming (or rather who), he rips his mouth from hers and demands, "Scream for me."

At a Halloween party, in one of Karen Gillan's hall closets, Alex comes with a loud shriek, and Matt is too far gone to worry about the complications that this could bring. Head clouded with lust for this woman falling apart in the most beautiful way in front of him, he bites down hard on her pulse point.

"I think it was coming from down here," Karen's voice wafts through the door, and Matt slows his thrusts, eyes wide on Alex's. She merely grins back at him, putting a finger to her lips in a way of telling him to be quiet, and digs her nails into his bare arse.

He bites down harshly on his lip, regaining his pace. Their eyes remain locked as they listen to what sounds like three people in the hall. The thought of getting caught excites and frightens him way too much, and his hips lose their rhythm.

"I don't hear anything," another voice speaks up, followed by another, saying the same thing.

"Make me come again," Alex whispers, mouth open as her breath comes out in soft gasps.

"I…I don't know if I can," he admits quietly. She kisses him, pulling down the top of her dress and revealing one of her breasts. Guiding his head to her chest, she contains a moan at the feel of his mouth wrapping around her nipple. He sucks at it ardently, as she tries to rock her hips against his as best she can.

He works his fingers desperately against her too sensitive bud, teeth nipping at her perky nipple, and soon, her second orgasm is washing over her. Her hand tightens on the fedora, nails sinking deep into the material. His climax hits him like a ton of bricks when she whispers, "Come for me," into his ear, hand moving from his arse to bury her nails in his neck.

An eternity later, after many sweet nothings are exchanged, Matt loosens his grip on her hip. She drops her legs from his body, her costume sticking to her damp waist. He helps her tug it down, and she returns the gesture by moving his boxers back into place. He lets out a hiss when her nails drag across his oversensitive member and she offers him a quiet apology.

They listen to the outside world for a moment, trying to judge whether or not Karen and her friends are still out there. When they hear nothing, they share a shaky laugh.

"I missed you," Matt confesses as he tugs his trousers back up his hips, tucking the shirt in. She does his belt for him, making sure it's not too tight, before sliding the prong through the hole.

"I could tell," she laughs, eyes meeting his. She winces, pulling the hat from his head. "I ruined it."

He can't help but chuckle at the pout that crosses her face as she takes in the crescent holes where her nails had once been. He tugs it from her grasp, hiding it behind some towels.

"I'll buy another, just for you," He murmurs, kissing her softly. She returns the kiss, eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is different, not as rushed and no tongues. Just opened mouth kisses, gentle caresses of their lips together.

"I missed you too," She admits when they break apart, running her fingers across the nape of his neck. He shivers against the touch, licking his lips to savor the taste of her.

"How long are you in town for?" He questions, resting his forehead against her collarbone. She hums, fingers still dancing across his skin.

"A week, starting yesterday," she answers. He tightens his grip on her waist, placing a small kiss on the skin below her mouth.

"Daisy gets on a plane for New Zealand in two days, for a week," Matt mentions, turning his face into her neck and breathing deeply. She's quiet for a moment, contemplating his words.

"Better make the best of it, no?" She chuckles softly, kissing his temple.

Post-coital cuddles are the best part of this affair, Matt knows. These are the times where they simply lay (or stand) with each other, holding onto one another as if one of them is going to disappear if they let go. He likes the feel of her flushed skin against his, the languid strokes of her hand in his hair. There's never a dull moment with her, and he simply loves it.

"Most definitely," he says softly. Straightening, he swats her bum, motioning towards the door. "Now get out there, and I'll wait five minutes."

"Yeah, right," Alex scoffs, but doesn't move. He looks at her curiously, not understanding her pointed look. "Well? I'm not going out there with…that dripping down my leg."

Understanding dawning on his face, he grabs one of the fluffy white towels from the shelf behind her, holding it out to her.

"Come on then," he says, shaking it in her face.

"We're just going to soil one of Karen's towels and put it back?" She asks incredulously, disgusted.

"No, no. I'll just tell her I needed to use it to wipe up a spilled drink or something," Matt informs her, smiling when she takes it from him. She wipes herself down as best she can, handing it back to him with a look of undiluted horror. He rolls his eyes and pushes her towards the door.

Shooting him a glare, she opens the door just enough to slip out of.

"You might want to let your hair down!" He calls after her, the memory of his teeth sinking into her skin coming to the forefront of his mind.

"Twat," she calls back, before disappearing completely.

Well, that was certainly one hell of a hello after such a long two months, he thinks.

Later that night, when Daisy asks him if he heard the unknown woman scream at the party, he hides a smile into his pillow and answers her with a loud, "Nope."

"Huh, weird. I swear, everyone heard it," Daisy says as she rolls over to curl her body around his. "Do you want to…"

"I'm really tired, Daze," he murmurs, and it's the first truth he's told her all night.

He can't find it in himself to be bothered by that thought.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for kudos and comments! They're very appreciated. This chapter written entirely by Brinney. Chapter title comes from Avril Lavigne's Hot.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Flying never gets easier.

Every time the plane takes off, Alex grips her arm rests until her knuckles are white, and she doesn't let go until the plane is in the air, flying smoothly toward its destination. This time is no different, and she holds her breath until her lungs burn, waiting with a thudding heart for the plane to level out.

When the seatbelt sign goes off, Alex breathes out shakily and leans her head back against the headrest. Oddly enough, turbulence doesn't bother her – just the takeoff. There's something about that moment just before the plane settles – that scary place between the ground and the open air. Like a child without a security blanket.

For the most part, Alex is willing to deal with the scary beginning if the end result is worth it. Filming for Doctor Who, for example. Definitely worth it.

This time, Alex's destination is Matt.

She smiles, turning from her daughter, coloring next to her, to look out the window. It's been three weeks since Karen's Halloween party and when a friend from London had invited her to a baby shower for this week, Alex had jumped at the excuse to go back. She has every intention of attending the shower, but she knows the real reason she's so eager for her plane to touch down in the place that still feels very much like home, is because of a man with silly hair and a smile that makes her knees weak.

As if sensing her thoughts, Salome nudges her and asks quietly, "Mom, can we see Matty while we're in London? Please?"

Her daughter's look is pleading and Alex smiles at the picture she makes, gripping a handful of colored pencils and staring up at her with wide eyes and a protruding bottom lip. She must be getting her pouting skills from Matt. "Maybe. If he's not busy, love."

"He won't be too busy for us," Salome says, sounding confident. "He loves us." Salome turns back to sketchbook, seemingly unaware of the way Alex's breath has caught in her throat. "And we love him too."

Alex doesn't move, can barely breathe. Salome doesn't notice, too busy concentrating on staying inside the lines, tongue poking out of her mouth in her intensity. Thankfully, her daughter doesn't seem to be expecting a response, because Alex doesn't think she could speak right now if her very life depended on the use of her voice.

Love?

She swallows and turns to the window again, turning her shaking hands into fists in her lap. Salome may love Matt, but Alex certainly doesn't. And he doesn't love her.

They promised.

What they have is not love, and not a relationship. It's an affair – a brief union that will be gone in a moment, like so much smoke in the wind. It doesn't matter. It doesn't mean anything.

Except…she likes the way his hair falls into his eyes when he looks at her, and the way his gaze softens when he leans in to kiss her. She likes the sound of his voice, and the way his hands feel on her waist. She likes his laugh, and how he never takes things too seriously because he thinks life is too short to be so caught up in stress. She likes how he isn't afraid to get down on Salome's level and paint on the floor with her, or sing really loudly and terribly just to make her laugh.

But that isn't love. That's Alex being capable of seeing all of his wonderful qualities. He'll make someone a fantastic husband one day. But she doesn't love him.

It's just a fling – one that's getting a bit dangerous to continue, for that matter. They're getting careless. That incident in the closet at Karen's Halloween party had been reckless. Anyone could have opened that door and discovered them, but Alex had been so caught up in Matt that she hadn't cared. It's exhilarating sometimes, being so overwhelmed with lust that nothing else matters.

Is she willing to risk everything – her career, her reputation – for the sake of lust? But…it doesn't feel like just lust. Not anymore. She can't remember the last time it did feel like only lust. She isn't sure it ever did.

Lust hadn't factored into her decision to call Matt at a karaoke bar so that he could listen to her sing from thousands of miles away. Matt hadn't been thinking of lust when he came over and took care of her when she was so sick she could barely stand up on her own, or when he sang her to sleep. It isn't lustful when they slow dance without music in her living room. In quiet moments, they ask questions about one another, learning tiny tidbits like favorites books and childhood memories. When they're together again after being apart, they say they'd missed one another.

Those things aren't about lust either.

And sometimes, Matt kisses her – cupping her face in his hands – like she's something so precious that he's afraid she isn't real. Occasionally, if she lets herself live in the moment and just feel the awe and reverence in his touch, it brings tears to her eyes.

She can't love him.

He's too young, so very young.

He has everything ahead of him – his future is so bright and she's so proud of him. He's gifted and brilliant, and there is so much left for him to do.

Alex has nothing to offer him.

He's brilliant with her daughter, and obviously, he's going to want kids of his own. She can't give him that. Alex can't be his darling arm candy at award shows, or the lovely young beauty the press gushes about – the sweet thing who stole the Doctor's affections.

She's not what he needs and eventually, he's going to realize that. Alex won't let herself love someone who's only going to break her heart.

As she stares out the window, tears in her eyes, she bites her lip.

Part of her fears it's already too late.

Matt taps his fingers on the doorframe of the bathroom, watching as Daisy finishes her makeup. She's heading out for the weekend, going to Manchester with a few of her girlfriends. She has been planning this trip for a couple weeks now, and he is taking full advantage of it.

Alex is currently on a plane, headed his way.

He smiles at the knowledge, fighting the urge to stop when Daisy returns his smile in the reflection of the mirror. He really shouldn't be doing this to her. She deserves so much more than him, sneaking around her back and giving all he should give to her to Alex.

He finds the most difficult thing to do is have sex with Daisy, but he does. Many men would think this is the life: sleeping with two very beautiful women. Oh, but it's terrible. Especially when he doesn't find the gratification in Daisy's arms as easily as he did before. She merely saw it as his way of extending the duration of their coupling. He had smiled at her, nuzzled her cheek and told her she was a clever girl.

He is truly a horrible person.

"Looks like I'll be leaving now," Daisy says, a small pout on her face as she comes to stand before him. She wraps her arms around his waist, kissing him softly. "Are you sure you don't want to tag along?"

Matt scoffs, running his hands up her arms to cup her neck. "And be dragged around by you and your friends? I think not."

She laughs, tugging him in closer. "It wouldn't be that bad, sweetie."

"You're right," Matt sighs, hands burying into her hair. She shakes her head, dislodging his fingers as she sends him a 'don't do that' glare. "It'd be worse."

Daisy rolls her eyes – an action he finds irritating on her – and pulls away from him. He follows her into their bedroom, accepting a suitcase and a handbag from her, and walks her outside to her car.

"Have fun while I'm gone," Daisy says, jabbing a finger in his chest. "Not too much fun, though, you hear?"

"Yes ma'am," Matt says, exasperated. He lets her tug him into a kiss, wrapping his arms around her waist as her tongue invades his mouth. She does the driving during the kiss, as he simply tries to wait it out. He should like kissing her, at least. It shouldn't be a chore he feels obligated to complete. But it is.

When she breaks off the kiss, she wipes at his mouth with her thumb, clearing the lipstick smudges she undoubtedly left.

"I love you," she says, and he bites the inside of his cheek. She does, doesn't she? But she shouldn't.

She shouldn't love him, when he's spending all of his free time with another woman. She shouldn't love him when he loves someone else.

He loves someone else.

"I love you too," he chokes out, hoping his voice didn't just break. His chest tightens as he takes a step back from the car, waving goodbye to his girlfriend, who smiles. She drives off and he lets out a shaky breath.

He loves someone else.

He staggers back into his home, locking the door behind him. He plops down onto his couch with a huff, staring blankly at the television.

Does he really love Alex?

He knew from the beginning that what they share could never be merely sex. Their actions of late have pointed to that as well but has he truly fallen in love with her?

He thinks of the way she laughs or the way she puts her daughter before everything. If filming

doesn't fit what Salome needs, Alex haggles with Steven to move the date around. He thinks of the way her eyes shine when she's happy, or the way she dances around her house when she's cleaning.

He remembers her reluctant acceptance of his help when both she and Salome were sick and stolen kisses between filming. He remembers breakfast in bed and deliciously heated phone calls; spending hours with her, simply holding her to him as she slept, and fighting the urge to hold her hand on set.

Matt worries his bottom lip, folding his hands over his lap. He's always cared more for her than he thought possible. She was never just a quick shag to get his jollies off, never could be. But now he's toying with the idea of love. The idea that maybe, quite possibly, there's something more there between them than either have let on.

If anything, he's not alone.

Not with the way she admits so hurriedly that she's missed him too or with the way she touches him after long months apart. The unease in his chest begins to loosen as his mind wanders, thinking of the way she smiles at him so brightly. She shares her secrets with him, her deepest fears and dreams. She has let him grow close to her daughter, a child he loves more than he could ever imagine.

As he looks back on their affair, he realizes that he does love her. He loves the way she walks, the way she sleeps. He loves her attitude and her sense of humor. He loves her odd habits and cute feet.

He loves her daughter.

With renewed energy, he hops from the couch and bounds for his bedroom. He looks at the clock on his nightstand, anxiety for her arrival reaching a new peak. Nine hours. She'd be here in nine hours.

Should he say anything? He pushes the idea from his mind as quickly as it enters - saying something to her about his feelings would be a mistake. At least, for now it would be. No, they'd need to have a long, calm discussion about the possibilities of where they could take this.

He can't see her taking the words in stride if he simply let them out.

For now, though, he can bask in his newfound knowledge that he loves her. Oh, does he love her.

With a giant grin, he packs an overnight bag, knowing their first night together would be in a hotel, because she has Salome.

Waiting now seems like an even larger burden than before.

But he can handle it.

Hell, he loves her.

He can handle anything.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all for commenting and leaving kudos! In this chapter, Friday wrote from Alex's point of view and Brinney wrote from Matt's. Chapter title comes from Adele's Make You Feel My Love.

Close enough to start a war

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

They're getting into the habit of changing hotels every time they meet. It's not a bad thing, he knows, because their hellos are always rather lengthy and they are very recognized people.

And her hellos are always worth it.

Matt avoids the glass windows of the lobby, heading down the sidewalk and counting down the door numbers as he goes along. Fiddling with his car keys, he comes to stand before door 31, anticipation running through his veins. He raises his hand to knock, but the door is ripped open before he can.

"You're late," Alex chides, standing in nothing but a black lace bra and a pair of trousers. He tucks his keys into his pocket, hands moving to rest on her hips as he steps into the room.

"I know," he says, smirk on his face as he tugs her in close. "By five minutes."

"Five minutes is precious time, sir," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck. He brushes his lips softly across hers, like a feather touch. She tilts into the pressure, tongue swiping across his lips in a quick movement.

He backs her into the room, kicking blindly at the door. It slams shut with a satisfying 'click', blocking the sun's rays and dimming the room considerably.

"Missed you," he sighs into her mouth. He has missed her more than ever before, and that probably has to do with the fact that he knows now. He knows he loves her.

"Missed you too," she moans softly, pulling him to the bed with her. "Now less talking and more touching, please."

XxX

"I forbid you to ever leave England, ever again," Matt says breathlessly into her neck, running his hands up her sides. She grips his shoulders and he feels her laugh, a soft rumbling in her chest against his.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Alex sighs, running her fingers through his messy hair. "America needs me."

He chuckles into her flushed skin, post-coital happiness flowing through him. Maybe that's why it doesn't register in his mind when he says, too loudly, "I love you."

"What?" She squeaks, pushing him off her quickly. She looks frightened and taken aback; he doesn't know what to say for a moment. It had slipped so easily from his mouth – it felt like the most natural thing in the world to say those words to her. This is not the reaction he'd expected when he finally said them.

Matt takes a minute to gather his thoughts, figuring out the right words, before rolling onto his knees and placing a hand to her cheek. He flinches when she pulls back.

"What's the matter?" He asks quietly, honestly fearful of her answer. But she doesn't reply, slipping from the rumpled sheets to pad over to her pile of clothes by the bathroom door. "Alex, what are you-"

"No, you don't." Her voice is harsh and demanding, as though she's forcing the words from her throat. She pulls her clothes on quickly, glancing around the room for her missing bra.

"What the hell do you mean, 'I don't'?" Matt snaps, jumping out of the bed and snatching up the black lace from its position over the lampshade. "I love you, Alex, and that's not going to change."

"Too bad because I don't love you," Alex bites out, glaring at him.

She looks pointedly at her bra, but he doesn't move. The pain is too much to move. Doesn't love him? That could not possibly be true. All this time, all those shared looks and quiet evenings. The whispered words when they were alone and the lingering kisses.

"Bollocks," he spits, flinging her bra to the floor between them. She doesn't move for it, continuing to glare at him. He grabs his jeans from the edge of the bed – foregoing the attempt to find his boxers – and jerks them up his legs. "Don't you dare try to lie to yourself about this. You

and me, we have something."

"We have lust, Matt," she says condescendingly. "Forbidden lust, disgusting lust."

"Yeah, disgusting, because all those times I was buried deep inside you, just right, you were telling me how disgusting this was. You weren't moaning your consent, clinging to me-"

He doesn't finish his sentence, because the shirt in his face cuts him short. He yanks it off his head, throwing it to the floor to join her bra. The anger bubbling up inside him is white hot and his hands shake from the feeling. She's still standing by the bathroom door, staring at him like he has no right to be in this room right now, like he's ruined everything. The tears spilling from her eyes do nothing more than fuel his anger.

"Look at you, Alex. Bloody look at yourself," he shouts, taking a step closer to her. He ignores the way she backs up as if frightened and continues to advance. "You're fucking crying. Why do you think you're doing that, hm?"

"Regret," she whispers, back against the door.

"Don't you feed me that rubbish. You wanted this as much as I did, you're just too dense to realize it could be great."

"Great?" She laughs bitterly and lifts her chin, staring defiantly into his eyes. "It'd be disastrous, you stupid man. It'd ruin the both of us."

"That's the fear talking, sweetie," Matt sing-songs, malice dripping from each word. "Admit it, you're afraid of letting someone love you properly."

"You call this properly? You call cheating on Daisy proper? This is anything but proper, Matt. This is wrong, we're wrong. Opposite ends of the spectrum, you and I. Never mind that you're a child."

"You always have to bring that up, don't you?" He grits out, pinning her in place, palms flat against the door on either side of her head. "Is that what this is about? Does it feel dirty to love someone so young?"

"I don't love you," Alex whispers, eyes brimmed with fresh tears.

"I don't believe you," he shoots back.

"Well, you should. It's the truth." Her tone is flat, but her eyes belie her words. The emotion swimming through them has Matt grasping at straws for what to say next. He can see the battle she's having and the urge to hold her until the storm is over almost beats out his anger. Almost.

"I refuse to believe that all those times we spent together, both of us and Salome, end up equaling nothing in your clever head, Alex. If that's how you treat a casual fuck then you've obviously got your priorities all wrong."

She shoves at his chest but he doesn't budge, not even when she's screaming in his face. "Don't you dare talk about me like you fucking know me."

The next thing Matt knows, his fist is buried deep in the door, directly next to her head. He can feel the blood trickling down his knuckles but he doesn't register the pain because nothing could hurt more than her rejection. But the fear in her eyes as she stands half naked against the battered door drives him to speak.

"I know more about you than you like to believe," he whispers and his words are venomous. "I've seen how you live, pet, and it's beautiful. I've seen how you care, how you love with everything you are. If this isn't love, then tell me what it is." The room is silent then, nothing but his heavy breathing and the soft whir of the fan drifting between them as he waits for her to respond.

"Infatuation," she finally says in a small voice. He immediately knows she doesn't believe her own words, and pushes closer to her. He winces, the pain in his hand becoming prominent. He tries to flex and quickly comes to the decision that it's a terrible idea to punch solid things.

"Stop lying to yourself," he pleads, resting his forehead against hers, though it only lasts a moment before she turns her head away to stare blankly at the bed – the bed they'd made love on only minutes ago. "You love me. I know you do. You let me into your world, Alex."

"No, I don't. How could I?" She ducks beneath his arm and moves away from the door – away from him – scrambling to pull on the last of her clothes. He cranes his neck to watch her, immobile. "You're violent. What if you lost your temper around Salome? I am not risking my daughter's safety to be with you. Besides, you have Daisy. Someone your age you can actually

start a family with. I have nothing to offer you."

He wants to shout at her again because that's just ridiculous but his throat constricts and his eyes sting and nothing is working right. He feels lightheaded as he watches her gather her purse, slip on her shoes and stride to the door.

"I'd leave her, you know," he says, voice broken. He needs to say it, to let her know that he would leave Daisy to be with her. "And I'd nev-never hurt Salome. I love her, you know that."

Her stare is stoic as she stands in the doorway, but the tears are still falling and his heart is breaking and this is so wrong.

"Bloody look at yourself," she mimics his earlier words, taking a step backwards into the hallway. She doesn't respond to his first statement but he doesn't care because she's leaving and he needs to stop her. "You claim to love me yet you throw your fist around like I'm going to take it."

"I made a mistake!" He shouts piteously. Tears – easily avoided in his anger – now flow from his burning eyes. This is not how it was supposed to happen. When he finally said those three words to her, she was supposed to laugh, maybe cry from happiness, and definitely return the feelings and they'd go from there. But this…this hurt, because she isn't even trying. She's just walking out the door and looking at him like he made the biggest mistake in the world by telling her he loved her.

Maybe he did.

"How many more mistakes, Matt?" She whispers, voice wavering. "You've made so many already." The stoic façade is lost as quickly as it was gained. She motions vaguely with her hand, backing further into the hall, hand on the doorknob. "Go to the hospital, lie to the press about your hand, and just…go home. Kiss your girlfriend. Move on."

"Alex, please, don't go," he begs, but the door shuts. He tugs at his stuck hand, shouting as he feels the skin tear and the cracked bones shift into places they shouldn't. He continues to tug until, blessedly, he is free and rushing to the door. He yanks it open using his good hand but by the time he makes it to the parking lot her car is gone and he is standing alone at a cheap hotel with a painful hand and an even more painful heart.

XxX

Alex allows herself to break down once she makes it to the car and drives away, tears blinding her vision so much that she's surprised she makes it home safely at all. But once she pulls up to the curb of her townhouse, she sits with the car turned off, trying to gather herself enough to go inside and see her daughter.

Refusing to let herself think of what has just happened – what she has just lost – Alex takes a few deep breaths and wipes hurriedly at her red eyes. Sniffling, she fluffs her hair and yanks the keys from the ignition.

'Please don't go.'

Alex slams the car door shut and leans against it, overcome by the sound of Matt's voice in her head. Oh god. It's over. It's really –

No.

Not now. She can break down later, but not now.

In a daze, she makes it to her door and slides the key into the lock. The walk from the car and up the steps is a split second blur. Key turned in the lock, she allows herself a moment to rest her forehead against the door and make sure that she has total control over her emotions before she pushes the door open and walks inside.

"Mom, look what I did today!"

Alex pastes on the brightest smile she can muster and bends down to hug her daughter, holding her tight to her chest and burying her face in soft brown hair. If her embrace is a little too tight, Salome doesn't say anything.

XxX

Much later – an eternity to someone who just wants to have an emotional breakdown in peace – Alex has tucked Salome into bed with no less than two bedtime stories. She closes her daughter's bedroom door and walks down the hall in a fog. Without changing her clothes, Alex makes her way into the kitchen and finds a bottle of wine in the fridge.

Not bothering with the pretense of a wine glass, she carries the bottle into the living room and turns on the television. She presses play on the dvd player, just to have some kind of background noise. The babysitter had left Gone With The Wind in the player, and she opens the bottle of wine and takes a long swig before putting it on the table and settling back onto the sofa cushions.

Alex curls up and rests her head on the arm of the sofa. Clark Gable has just taken Vivien Leigh into his arms despite her protestations and proclaimed, 'There's one thing I do know…and that is that I love you, Scarlett. In spite of you and me and the whole silly world going to pieces around us, I love you. Because we're alike -"

Alex doesn't listen to anymore, turning the television off and viscously throwing the remote across the room before promptly bursting into tears. It's been an ache in her chest all day, a horrible gaping hole ever since she walked out of that hotel room and left him standing there, watching her with tears in his eyes.

It wasn't supposed to mean anything. She wasn't supposed to fall in love with someone so young, someone who can't possibly be willing to settle down with her and her daughter. He says he wants to, but what does Matt know? He's just blinded by sex – it blinds most men, doesn't it? He may love her, but he doesn't understand the consequences of loving her. He would never try to stay if he did. He'll understand later, once he's had time, that she's just trying to save him from hating her, from hating himself and whatever sort of bizarre life they might have had together.

He would regret it later and she knows it. Everyone who has ever fallen in love with her has ended up regretting it at one point or another. What on earth would make him any different? He has Daisy – beautiful, as young as he is, able to give him the family he wants.

What could Alex offer him? A heart that's been broken so many times that it's too mangled to even work properly anymore? A child that isn't even his? A life where the press constantly judges them for their choices, for their difference in age? He wouldn't be happy, and eventually, he would leave.

Alex won't put herself and her daughter through that again, especially with how attached Salome has gotten to Matt. He'd break both their hearts.

So she'd lied. Making him believe he meant nothing to her was the only way she could think of to make him leave her alone and move on before both of them were in too deep to get out. Leave it to Matt to see right through her and call her on her total bollocks. He's always been able to read her the way no one else can.

And then she'd thrown Daisy in his face and insinuated his temper was a risk with Salome. The look on his face…She hates herself. Matt would cut off his own arm before he ever laid a finger on her or Salome and she knows it. Pushing him away was the hardest thing she has ever done, but she knows it was for the best.

It was the right choice, the only choice. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Matt is everything she wants – funny and patient, gentle and kind, just as in love with her child as she is. He took care of them in a way that has been foreign to Alex for such a long time. He made them feel like a real family again.

She thinks of lying in bed with him in the middle of the night, staring up at the ceiling and just listening to him breathe - knowing he was there and feeling better, safer. She thinks of breathless kisses in his trailer between takes on set, giggling with the dangerous possibility of being caught. She thinks of sitting on his lap when Salome was in bed, asking questions about each other in between soft kisses. Making love beneath hotel sheets, falling off the sofa in breathless laughter when he tickled her, singing Beatles songs into wooden spoons, feeling his eyes on her across a crowded room and knowing she was wanted. Looking into his eyes and seeing what she was too afraid to admit was there.

He loves her.

It all happened so very quickly, and now it's gone.

Oh god.

It's over.

He loves her and he's gone.

He's not coming back.

No more waking up to silly text messages from him in the morning, no more seeing his eyes light up when she walks into a room, or feeling his hand curl possessively at her hip. No more running her fingers through his hair and calling it ridiculous while secretly adoring it. Adoring him.

Tears pouring down her face, Alex stifles a sob into her hand, shoulders heaving as she squeezes her eyes shut and wonders when it will stop hurting so much.

She doesn't know how long she sits there curled around herself and utterly lost in her grief before she suddenly she feels a small hand on her knee. Alex jumps, heart in her throat when she opens her eyes to see her daughter staring up at her, tears in her own eyes. Alex is speechless, unable to find the right words to say and loathing herself even more.

No child should ever see its mother brought so low.

As it turns out, she doesn't have to say anything. Salome sits next to her on the sofa, pulling the afghan resting on the back of the couch over both of them and curling up. She brings a hand up to stroke her mother's hair. "It's alright, mommy," she whispers, and Alex feels fresh tears build behind her eyes. Salome kisses her cheek. "Everything will be alright."

Alex wraps her arms around her daughter, tears still streaming down her face. If it weren't for the aching in her heart and the memories of being so happy swimming in front of her eyes, Alex might have believed her.

XxX

When Matt finally leaves the hospital, the sky is dark and he has to take a cab. The drugs in his system have made him delirious, and driving now would be a stupid idea.

Even more stupid than driving with a broken hand and eyes full of tears.

It had been difficult, trying to keep everything quiet. The doctor had asked why his hand was broken and he'd told the truth - he had punched a door. The anger in his voice at the time managed to persuade the doctor from asking any further questions.

Thankfully.

When they reach his home, he pays the driver and clambers out as gracefully as possible (which is even less graceful than he's ever been, considering). The first thing he notices is Daisy's car parked in front of his home, and he cringes.

What is she doing home? It's only Saturday.

He doesn't have time to contemplate her reasons, because she's rushing out of the house, her expression a mix of anger and worry.

"Where the hell have you been!? I texted you a thousand times!" She shouts, advancing on him quickly. Matt tries to keep his expression schooled as he stands limply on the sidewalk. He really does not want to deal with this right now.

"Phone's off," he mumbles when she's close enough. "Hospital rules."

It's as close to the truth she's going to get - wouldn't do any good to tell her he turned it off the moment he reached the hotel.

"Hospital? Why were you- oh my God! Your hand!"

Daisy begins to fret over him, hands running across his arm and lifting his injured hand to eye level. He flinches, the movement shooting pain through his every nerve ending despite the medication. The white cast that envelopes his hand from the middle of his forearm up to the tips of his fingers is heavy and he wishes she would just let it drop. Literally.

"What did you do?" She exclaims, eyes searching his face. He pulls his hand from her grasp as gingerly as possible, trying to refrain from outright glaring at her.

"I punched a door," he shrugs. Why start lying now? Alex saw him do it; he told the doctor about it. Why lie to Daisy any more than he has been? He knows why he should. He knows every single reason.

"But why?" She inquires relentlessly, obviously unwilling to give up.

Matt runs his good hand through his hair, letting out a harsh sigh. "Look, I was being stupid, alright? I made a bloody mistake and I'm on a hell of a lot of medication right now. I just want to go to bed."

She flinches visibly and he closes his eyes, guilt washing over him. She doesn't deserve to be on the ass end of his self-hate, and yet he's doing it anyway. He shouldn't be allowed near people anymore. All he does is screw them up.

"Okay," Daisy says slowly, looking around the yard searchingly. "Where is your car?"

"Left it at the hospital and took a cab."

"Alright, you uh, go lay down. Get some rest and I'll go pick it up." She pulls out her phone, dialing an unknown number and nudges him in the direction of the house.

"Thank you," he whispers, making his way to the door. He stops for a moment, turning around to take in his girlfriend. "Why are you back?"

"Marlene's dog died this morning. I've been back since this afternoon. Oh, hey Cassie. Yes, I know it's late - no, nothing's wrong. Well, something is wrong – hold on. Matt?"

He stops, hand on the knob.

"We're talking more about this in the morning," she warns, her expression stern. He sighs, nodding despite his reluctance.

That's the last thing he wants to do.

Lie to her even more.

Chapter End Notes

Um, hi. Sorry about the angst. Except not really because Brinney and I have been looking forward to this bit for a while. Because we're mean people. Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view for this chapter and I - Friday - wrote from Alex's.

Chapter title comes from Adele's Turning Tables. Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

I'll grow brave and I'll go

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Jack Daniels, a pack of fags, and an empty house.

That's all Matt needs to drown his pain.

Smoking is bad, blah blah, don't drink when you're depressed and alone, blah blah. He's heard it all before and right now, he couldn't care less. Alex Fucking Kingston broke his heart and left him to clean up the mess of their disgusting affair while she ran like a frightened child.

"Never mind that you're a child."

His jaw clenches, breath escaping harshly through his nose as he leans further into the garden chair he has sitting in his backyard. He lifts the bottle of JD to his lips with his good hand, glaring at the stark white cast that envelops his left hand.

Bloody stupid.

The alcohol burns his chapped lips and sore throat, bringing tears to his puffy eyes. The warmth had already spread through his body with his first sips, two hours ago. Now, with less than half a bottle of Jack and even less fags left, Matt is feeling a bit out of his mind and a lot angrier with Alex.

A. Lot. Angrier.

"Don't bleedin' love me. Bollocks," he slurs, reaching blindly beside him for the worn pack of smokes. He pops one out - dropping a few into his lap - and attempts to place it between his numb lips. It slips down his bare chest and he fumbles with it before finally succeeding in picking it up. He finds the lighter and silently thanks whatever god might exist for the still night.

As if there is one.

The first drag is harsh and he cringes, swallowing roughly around the dryness of his throat. What has she reduced him to? He feels like a wreck, probably looks about the same, and he doesn't even care.

No, all he cares about is feeling nothing by the time this night is over.

His phone vibrates across the ground by his feet, signaling a text. He bends over, spilling some of the brown liquid on his sweats as it tips beside him, and grabs it with an unsteady hand. It's from Daisy.

Just landed, how are you?

He doesn't respond. Instead, he uses trembling fingers to scroll through his contact list, coming across the person he wants fairly quickly. How can he be angry with her when he's so in love with her? When all he wants to do is call her and tell her that he misses her, that sleeping is so hard without her curls tickling his cheeks or the feel of her hand on his chest?

Alex (Cell), his phone reads, and he wants to call her. He will call her. He hits send and brings the phone to his ear, dropping the burning cigarette out of his mouth and to the ground.

The sound of the call tone grinds against his nerves and he silently wonders if she'll answer. It feels like she won't, but he needs her to. He needs to hear-

"You shouldn't have called," she says quietly, and it sounds strained.

"You dinnit have to answer," he replies just as quietly, leaning his head back. Her voice is enough to bring a calm over his body that alcohol could never accomplish. "I miss you."

"Are you pissed?" She asks incredulously, but doesn't give him time to answer. "I'm not doing this with you right now."

Matt pulls his phone away, staring down at the call disconnected screen that flashes before going back to the menu screen. With blurry eyes, he finds his way back to the directory, hitting send the moment her name is highlighted.

"Matt-"

"Shut up," he groans. "Just shut up an' listen to me, okay? I am not just some bloke you shagged an' left, Alex. I am someone who loves you so fuckin' much an' I will not stand for being treated like rubbish. I can't sleep without you. I-I can't breathe properly or even look at things the same. I'm so knackered, baby, an' there's nothin' I can even do about it because you're being so bloody unreasonable."

The line is silent, and for a moment, he wonders if she hung up on him again. But then she's speaking and breaking his heart all over again. "Are you quite finished?"

The sob that echoes through those words has him squeezing his eyes shut. He cradles the phone between his cheek and shoulder as he reaches for the liquor.

"The great Alex Kingston," he scoffs through the burn of the alcohol, coughing slightly. "Always so rude."

"Well, you know me - no heart," she laughs dryly.

"You're fuckin' thick," he whispers, blinking back tears. "You have one of the biggest-"

"I would rather be sleeping right now, Matthew, if you don't mind," she interrupts, using his full name. No one's called him Matthew in ages and he hates that it was her that did it. He hates that it sounds so condescending coming from her mouth.

"I do bloody mind , Alex!" He shouts, jerking up into a sitting position. The movement causes the bottle to fall to his feet, glass shattering loudly as the rest of the liquid spills across his socks.

"Sounds like you have a mess to clean up," she says matter-of-factly. "Now, why don't you be a good lad and pick up after yourself and I'll go to sleep, hm? Goodnight."

The call is disconnected again and he fights off the temptation to toss his phone next to the broken bottle. Wouldn't do him any good having to clean up more than one mess while he's completely out of his mind.

He also has to stave off the urge to call her back, to demand she listen to him. It isn't fair, the way she's treating him. She's acting as if there was never anything between them. As if they'd simply had a disagreement as friends. He wonders how she does it. How she makes it seem like his fingers had never coasted across the length of her body or that his mouth hasn't tasted all of her. He wonders how she pretends he didn't make her daughter happier that she'd seen her in ages, or that he treated her as properly as he could, considering it was an affair. A stupid mistake.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, biting down on his cheek. He wants to call her back and have her whisper sweet nothings in his ear as he falls asleep. He wants her to tell him it will all be okay, because she's here for him and nothing else matters.

But, of course, everything else does matter.

He stares at the mess by his feet; he stares at his cast and his mobile. He stares blankly at nothing as he tries to gain his equilibrium enough to stand. It's more difficult that he imagined so he reclines across the garden chair instead, toeing his wet socks off and closing his eyes.

Feeling nothing isn't going to be a possibility after all, not when he's feeling far too much. So he simply lets his eyes close and allows the alcohol to do its job. Maybe, when he wakes up in the dim of the morning, he won't remember the fresh wound on his heart. Maybe, just maybe, he won't remember how easily she had brushed him off and stung him with her cold words.

As he drifts off into a restless sleep, he knows it isn't possible.

XxX

Salome has been asleep for two hours, and Alex has been lying awake and listening to her even breathing for just as long. Her daughter has barely left her side since that night earlier in the week, when Alex had come home and lost herself in grief on the living room sofa. Tonight, Salome has asked to sleep with Alex, and she just couldn't say no. Sleep has eluded Alex in the past few days and she can't say she minds the company.

She stares into the darkness and counts sheep, sings lullabies in her head, mentally catalogues the amount of sleep she could get if she dropped off right then. She thinks of anything she can to distract herself from the reason why she hasn't been sleeping.

Tomorrow is that damned baby shower and as soon as it's over, Alex is taking her daughter, hopping on a plane and going home. She doesn't want to be anywhere near England right now.

When her mobile lights up the pitch black hotel room as it buzzes on the nightstand, Alex reaches for it hurriedly, glancing down at the screen.

Matt.

She shuts her eyes tiredly, deliberating with herself. She knows she shouldn't answer it, that the best way to handle this whole mess is to cut Matt out of her life while they both deal with this in their own separate ways. But it has been days without hearing his voice and the temptation is too much for her.

Alex opens her eyes and answers the phone, bringing it to her ear. "You shouldn't have called," she says softly, hating herself for being so very weak when it comes to this man.

"You dinnit have to answer," comes the slurred reply. "I miss you."

"Are you pissed?" She swallows back tears, wondering why she answered in the first place. "I'm not doing this with you right now."

She hangs up, putting the phone back on the nightstand with a shaking hand and staring around the room. Falling asleep now suddenly seems like an impossible task, and she no longer even wants to. She doesn't want to do anything but stare blankly up at the ceiling until sunlight streams into the room and Salome wakes up, forcing her to be a responsible adult again.

On the nightstand, her phone lights up again, nearly vibrating right off the table as it buzzes. Alex sits up and reaches for it before it can wake up Salome, ready to tell Matt exactly where he can shove that bottle of Jack he has undoubtedly consumed. She almost hates him for it – being able to get utterly sloshed and forget. She would give anything to forget for a while, but having a ten year old little girl to look after doesn't leave much time for drunken self pity.

"Matt -"

"Shut up," he says, and his voice is slurred and gruff. "Just shut up an' listen to me, okay? I am not just some bloke you shagged an' left, Alex. I am someone who loves you so fuckin' much an' I will not stand for being treated like rubbish."

Alex shakes her head and bites her lip, eyes filling up as she grips the phone tightly to her ear.

"I can't sleep without you. I-I can't breathe properly or even look at things the same. I'm so knackered, baby, an' there's nothin' I can even do about it, because you're being so bloody unreasonable."

She knows the feeling. Sleep isn't coming easily to her either, and sometimes she literally forgets to breathe, and it takes a while to realize that the ache in her chest is because she isn't breathing, and not because everything seems to hurt all the time lately. Tipping her face to the ceiling in an effort to keep the tears at bay, Alex shuts her eyes and draws in a shaky breath. It doesn't work and the tears slip from her closed eyes anyway.

"Are you quite finished?" She asks, voice breaking, and it's only because she knows he probably won't remember in the morning that she doesn't care if he hears it.

"The great Alex Kingston," Matt scoffs, coughing. "Always so rude."

It stings, but she finds it in herself to laugh like his words don't matter to her. "Well, you know me

– no heart."

"You're fuckin' thick," Matt whispers, and he sounds so heartbroken and so furious that Alex wishes she could fix this for him, make it better somehow. Make him get over her and turn his attention back to the woman he's dating. Why can't he just let her go? Doesn't he understand that she's doing this for him?

But that's a lie, isn't it? She is doing it for him, but that's not the only reason. She's doing it because the thought of him really, truly loving her scares her to death. It's a part of herself she isn't really willing to face just yet.

"You have one of the biggest - "

Alex interrupts him before he can get any further, anxious to get off the phone before she completely loses it with him on the line. "I would rather be sleeping right now, Matthew, if you don't mind."

His full name. Like she's his mother. He'll hate that.

"I do bloody mind, Alex!"

God, he's so angry. She doesn't want to think about what she might have shouted back in return before she's interrupted by the sound of broken glass. Whatever it is shatters rather spectacularly and she thinks he must be outside, because the house he lives in with Daisy is too plushly carpeted to shatter glass on impact.

She suddenly pictures him standing in his back yard under the night sky, blind drunk and gripping his phone like it's the only thing keeping him upright. Alex closes her eyes and wills away the image, because picturing him anywhere hurts too much. She wonders where Daisy is, and why she isn't taking care of her melodramatic, drunken boyfriend.

She wants to get in her car and go over there – he's so bloody close to her and she has never felt more far away. But he's drunk, and there's no talking to him when he's like this. She isn't going to leave her daughter to take care of him either. He has Daisy for that, and Alex can't run to him just because he's hurting. Not anymore.

"Sounds like you've got a mess to clean up," she says, managing to keep her voice steady. "Now why don't you be a good lad and pick up after yourself, and I'll go to sleep, hm? Goodnight."

Shutting her phone, Alex lets it fall from her fingers and off the side of the bed, too numb to bother with putting it back on the nightstand. She doesn't think of Matt's slurred and brokenhearted voice, or his anger, or his confession that he can't sleep or look at anything the same way anymore. She doesn't think about how familiar it sounds to her own life. She doesn't think about how she barely eats because somehow, she's never hungry anymore; or how she lies awake at night staring at her ceiling and willing herself to fall asleep.

For a long time, Alex sits in the darkness of her bedroom absolutely not thinking about these things, with her life falling apart around her.

Chapter End Notes

Hey guys! Sorry about the wait! My computer crashed on me and while I still managed to recover most of my files, my laptop is still not in working order. I've been using my sister's and she doesn't have Word so it took me a while to figure out how to upload chapters without it. Thank you all for being so patient, and thank you so much for your comments and kudos. Brinney and I really love hearing from you. In this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. The

chapter title comes from the song Chocolate and Cigarettes by Angus and Julia Stone.

When you're too in love to let it go

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Their first morning back in America, Alex is almost too busy trying to ignore the tightening in her chest nearly every time she breathes to notice Salome staring at the telephone. For a while, Alex stands on their patio in the backyard, under the terrace, staring out into the trees and hating how very sunny it is. She tells herself she's just missing London's clouds and the chill in the air at this time of year.

She doesn't let herself think of the man that lives there, already finished with his day and probably preparing to crawl into bed beside his girlfriend while Alex stands on her patio a whole ocean away.

It wouldn't have mattered before – before everything. When they were friends, or even when they were lovers. Because there had been phone calls and text messages and sometimes Alex would get a package in the mail with a gift for Salome and a sweet but often naughty note for her. They had been apart, but they had never lost contact. Being away hadn't seemed so terrible then, because she never had a chance to feel the ache she feels now. Like every step she takes is pulling her further and further away, like she's stretched so thin she might just snap.

The distance between Los Angeles and London has never seemed so vast.

When she finally turns from gloomily watching the palm trees sway in the warm breeze, she spies her daughter through the glass French doors, sitting at the kitchen table and biting her lip, staring at the telephone as though she can't remember how to use it.

Alex is puzzled only for a moment before she remembers.

Oh.

Sometimes, she is so bloody selfish.

She has been so wrapped up in her own pain that she hasn't given much thought to the fact that Salome has lost a good friend. Matt has been her pal ever since they met, and Alex has irrevocably

ruined that wonderful relationship between them. With each new layer of misery revealed, Alex hates herself a little more. When she'd begun seeing Matt, she hadn't been thinking of the consequences to anyone else. She hadn't even thought about the ramifications for herself. All she'd been able to think about were blue eyes that wanted her, fingers twirling a strand of her hair, soft words in her ear and a hungry mouth against hers. Nothing else had seemed important.

So bloody selfish.

Padding inside in her bare feet, Alex takes a seat next to her daughter and joins her in staring at the phone. They sit in silence for a moment until Alex can't stand it anymore. "I'm sorry, sweetie."

"Why can't I call him, mom?"

It's the first time Salome has mentioned Matt since those first few weeks after their breakup, when she'd asked why Matt hadn't come by lately. Alex's short, teary-eyed response had obviously been enough to deter her daughter from asking again. After Salome had found her that night, sobbing in the living room, she has been unusually compliant when it comes to minding her mother, hardly muttering a peep of protest when asked to brush her teeth or do her homework. Like she's walking on eggshells around Alex, not wanting to upset her.

Kids shouldn't be worried about things like that. Alex doesn't want her daughter fretting over her, afraid she'll break if handled improperly. It speaks volumes about her wonderful daughter, but it says even more about her atrocious parenting skills lately.

"You can see him on set, sweetheart, but you can't call him while we're away anymore and I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because it's my fault," she says, refusing to let her voice waver. "Matt and I can't be friends anymore, and so we can't call him."

"Why can't you be friends?"

Alex looks away, closing her eyes. "Because mummy thought it was for the best. Matt needs to spend more time with Daisy, and less time with us, all right?"

Salome bites her lip. "I don't want him with Daisy. I want him with us. It's not fair!"

"Oh darling," Alex breathes, reaching for her daughter and enfolding her in her arms. "I know. I know it isn't. And I'm so sorry, my love."

Salome curls a fist into Alex's shirt, sniffling.

Alex thinks of Matt building a blanket fort with Salome in the middle of their living room – despite her protests that she was getting too old for such silliness, giggling when his gangly legs stuck out from underneath their creation. She thinks of Salome's smile every time she spoke with him on the phone and the way he'd called her 'his poppet'.

She thinks of Matt's arms around her in the night, and how empty her bed always feels now. How empty everything feels – like some vital part of her is missing and she'll never get it back. It's a feeling of loss she doesn't think she'll ever get over. She and Salome have both lost someone dear to them. An important part of their lives is gone, and Alex vows that she won't ever forget she isn't the only one hurting right now.

"I miss him, mom."

Pressing a soft kiss to her daughter's head, Alex tightens her arms around her and sighs. "Me too, love. Me too."

XxX

Miles and an ocean away, Matt sits in his living room, phone in hand, waiting.

He doesn't want to think about how the call isn't coming. He doesn't want to think about how the call will never come.

But he does.

He stares down at his mobile, and thinks he'll never hear the sound of Salome's voice before he

tucks in for the night. He'll never tell her to drive her mother as crazy as she can for him. What had Alex told her? What's her reason for not calling him anymore? How is Salome handling it?

So many questions, and with answers that Alex won't give to him easily. It's something he'd have to fight for and they do too much of that already. He doesn't have the right to ask her personal questions anymore. He doesn't have the right to miss her so much he could tear apart the whole of London in his agony.

But he does.

He misses her, them, so much and it has hardly been three weeks. Three weeks since he made that mistake of telling her he loved her; three weeks since she left him, bruised and broken, in a hotel room with tears pouring from both their eyes. He looks at his cast, biting down on his lip. Too many mistakes, indeed.

She's giving in so easily, and he knows he should fight for her. He knows he will.

Matt clenches his good hand around his mobile, fighting off temptation to call her. It's a battle he knows he will lose. It's a battle he has lost three times in the past three weeks. The urge to hear her voice is always so strong that he can never pass it up, even if all they do is yell at each other. But it's too early for her. Salome is still at home, preparing for whatever she's going to do today. He can't even remember if she's attending school right now but he knows it is far too early.

So he waits.

He sits in his chair, in his dark living room, waiting. Daisy is asleep in his bed, sprawled out comfortably around the pillow he replaced himself with. The minutes tick by slowly and the urge to dial grows.

At the two hour mark, he flips his phone open, dialing the number he knows by heart. It doesn't take her long to answer.

"Can we not, today? Please?" Alex sighs into the receiver, and oh, it is so wonderful to hear her voice again. He doesn't say anything at first, simply listening to her breathe. He can't let her go. It's too hard. "Matt."

"I can't," he gasps, but he doesn't say anything else. He knows he doesn't have to.

"Yes, you can," she states, pleading.

"How are you so sure? We can make this work," Matt tells her, and the plea in his voice is so much more prominent than hers was. He sounds like a whining child and that realization is like a slap in the face.

"We can't, Ma-"

"We can," he interrupts her sharply, slamming his cast down on the arm of the chair. He winces, but the pain is gone as quick as it appeared.

"Matt, please," she whimpers, and he can hear the tears in her voice.

"Why won't you give us a shot? A real shot?" He's clutching the phone so tight in his grip, he's afraid it'll shatter, but he needs to know. He needs to understand why.

"I already told you why," Alex cries, and his chest tightens. When had they reached this point? When had everything gone so wrong?

'When you told her you loved her,' a voice in his head pipes up. He shuts his eyes and wills the tears to stay away, if only for a moment. He needs clarity. He needs to understand.

"And I don't believe it," he murmurs, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I need you to," she begs. "And I need you to stop calling. Please, Matt, just…let me go, okay? Just let me go."

He wants to tell her he can't, because it's the truth. How can he let her go when she's the one thing in his life that he knew? That he completely understood and loved, wholeheartedly. He needs her like she needs this, but he doesn't know why. Why is she so adamant about pushing him out of her life?

"I've tried," he groans, resting his head against his upraised, injured hand.

"You haven't tried enough. How many times, Matt? How many times do I need to tell you I don't love you?"

"Until I start believing it or you?" He snaps and regrets it immediately because he hears her choked sob. He hears the way she breaks down quietly and he doesn't want this.

"Shut up," Alex manages. Her pain is palpable through the phone, through the miles and the water, and it's because of him. It's all because of him. "God, just please, don't do this to yourself. Stop calling me, because it's only going to make things worse."

This is so different than the shouting and the yelling they've shared the last times he's called her. This is melancholy and almost resigned. It only takes him a moment to realize that this was over way before it started. Tonight is the night he backs off and as much as it pains him, he makes a silent agreement with himself to try. Try to stay away from her, stop calling her. She needs this and he loves her enough to give it to her.

"Okay," he says brokenly. "Okay, I'm sorry. I wo-won't call again."

"Thank you," Alex replies quietly. And then she's gone. His Alex is gone, forever.

His Alex, the one who would laugh at his horribly naughty jokes; the one he'd smile at from the floor as he and Salome painted a landscape.

The one he danced with, the one he tickled and teased.

"I can't do it," he murmurs, the phone still held tightly against his face.

"Can't do what, baby?" Daisy asks from the archway leading to the hall. He jumps visibly, turning to face her and trying to tuck his mobile away, inconspicuously.

"My uh," he stops to clear his throat. Tangling his good hand in his hair, he offers her a sheepish smile. "My hand hurts quite a bit tonight. I haven't been able to get to sleep."

Daisy pads over to him softly in nothing but one of his shirts and kisses his forehead. "Did you take the medicine?" She asks quietly, running her hands across his cheeks in what she probably intends as a soothing gesture. But it feels so foreign, so wrong. Pushing the thoughts away from his mind, he forces himself to lean into her touch.

"Of course. I'm not completely useless," he sighs. Her hands are too soft. 'Too soft, too soft,' his mind chants, and Matt fights a grimace.

"I'd beg to differ," she laughs and and the sound is too high. She holds her hand out to him, a silent demand that he get up.

"Anyone who knows me would," he agrees, accepting her outstretched hand. She guides him back into his bedroom, pulling the sheets open for him. She's doting on him like he's a child.

A child.

He can't escape that word, can he? He'll never be able to escape the fact that he is so young. Alex will always see him as the little boy who'd had an infatuation with her, an infatuation she'd merely indulged in because it felt nice to be wanted.

"Get in, you dope," Daisy commands, pushing him towards the bed. He complies, sliding into the cold sheets and curling onto his side. He doesn't even bother to take his sweatpants off. She curls in next to him, rubbing circles across his back. "Get some sleep, babe. I'll have another dose of the prescription ready for you in the morning."

"Thank you, love," he whispers and there's no feeling behind those words. Hasn't she noticed he doesn't sleep much anymore? It's not the same.

This bed is all wrong and the body behind him is even more so.

So he pretends.

Chapter End Notes

A/N - Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. We love you! Okay, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's in this chapter. Chapter title comes from Coldplay's Fix You.

The whole world is moving and I'm standing still

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Since that night nearly a month ago, Alex hasn't heard a word from Matt. In the first week, she checks her phone obsessively, half afraid and half hopeful that she has a missed call or text from him. But Matt is doing as she asked and respecting her wishes. He's leaving her alone.

In the second week, Alex tries to tell herself that she's glad he has finally given up on her. Not hearing from him means that he's trying to move on, like she wanted him to. But it also means that she hasn't heard his voice in two weeks. She even misses the calls where they did nothing but cry and shout at each other because at least then she could hear him. At least then she knew he was out there thinking of her, loving her. Now, she doesn't know what he's doing or what he's thinking.

It's easy to forget. Filming for Upstairs Downstairs means that she's traveling back and forth a lot, and when she's in America, she has friends to visit and she takes Salome to school and helps her with her homework when she isn't with Florian. When she's in London, she works tirelessly and doesn't let herself think of how close she is to Matt – and when Doctor Who starts filming again, she avoids the set next door like the plague. There isn't much time for anything else.

Her schedule is so routine and systematic that Alex finds it easy to shut down. Her every thought is about taking care of Salome or about work or cleaning the house. She never lets her thoughts stray beyond that because if she does, forgetting won't be so simple.

In the third week since the phone call, Matt is officially a past fling. But it wasn't just a fling, was it? It had been so much more than that, even if she had been too afraid to admit it to his face. When it comes to love, Alex is a coward, and letting Matt Smith break her heart in front of the whole world hadn't been something she was willing to risk.

After a while, Alex acts almost on autopilot. Like some sort of machine, she goes through the motions of her every day life and refuses to let herself think of what she'd had and what could have been hers so easily, if loving Matt wasn't so very complicated.

As if her love life hasn't left her with enough bruises, Alex had fallen for the one man who could never have a life with her, no matter how much either of them wanted it. It would never work, and she can admit that even if Matt can't or won't see it.

If she had just had the willpower to say no when he showed up at her hotel that night, none of this would have happened. At the time, there hadn't seemed like any other answer than to press herself against him and let him kiss her. She hadn't wanted any other answer. Maybe even by then, it was already too late to turn back.

Was there ever really another option? How could she look at Matt, be around him and see what an amazing, lovely person he is, and not fall so very far, so very fast? He had left her with no other choice but to love him. Alex isn't sure she would want to be deprived of that love, even now. She's selfish, and she wouldn't give up the time she spent with him for anything in the world. It was special, and in that brief, beautiful time together, Matt had taught her more about love and about herself than she thought possible.

But it's over now and everything hurts.

So Alex doesn't think about it. It's easier.

It's easier to be numb than to face what she's left with – memories and heartache. By the fourth week without any contact from Matt, Alex doesn't feel anything at all.

XxX

The first week after their agreement, Matt struggles with his need to hear her voice. It's a strong urge, so strong that he almost breaks his agreement to her and calls her twice. But he doesn't. He's doing as she asked. As she begged.

So instead, he spends his time getting to know Daisy again.

It's not as hard as he imagined it would be - she's a simple girl with simple wants and needs. She's a bit more clingy than he remembers and he has to stop himself from pushing her away in public.

This is how they'd been before. Before Alex.

So he allows it, even joins in. Anything to keep up the act.

Once, he almost calls her by Alex's name (which is a mistake for many reasons but most importantly because she's nothing like Alex) and he plays it off as quickly as he makes the mistake, calling her 'airhead' instead.

He pays close attention to her name from then on.

The second week, it's easier. He doesn't cringe immediately at the thought of getting into bed with her, having her sleep curled into his side and breathing lightly. She doesn't talk in her sleep (like Alex), so he spends his nights just listening to the walls close in on him.

Or yell at him.

Whatever they're in the mood for.

He can even almost climb into bed without wishing she was someone else. Someone older and quieter in her excitement.

Though, he's always wishing she was someone else, so he supposes it's just not quite as loud in his mind.

By the time the third week rolls around, (has it really been that long? What does she sound like again? What does she look like? He's forgetting - he can't forget. Please don't forget.) it's like a rhythm. He can go through his days, kiss her, make love to her without feeling like dying.

He can call her up and banter with her like they did before. He even takes her out to her favorite places more than he once did. It's an atonement for the wrongs she isn't even aware of.

He's tired of being a liar.

It's sort of like going through the motions, he thinks. He knows what she wants, knows what her day is going to be like and what she's doing. He's there for her at night and in the morning, like he never was. He's doing things he's never done before, like letting her make all the decisions and just agreeing as if he truly thinks she's right.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

In the fourth week, if he believes it hard enough, he can almost forget that he even had an affair

with Alex (though, why would he do that? He needs to remember).

He can't lie to himself, however, no matter how easy it is to lie to everyone else. At night, he still wishes for curves and curls. He still doesn't sleep well, his mind racing as he tries so hard to keep the memories in tact. They're all he has anymore.

At night, when Daisy is wrapped around his body in the most intimate of ways, there's always a passion missing. She's always going to lack something, somewhere. Looks, actions, touch. There's not enough of Alex in her and he's dying from it.

He's slowly deteriorating and he can't do anything about it.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Chapter End Notes

An extra chapter today just because it's kind of too short for Brinney and I to consider it a full chaptered update:) Enjoy and thanks so much for your comments! Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view for this chapter and I wrote from Alex's. Chapter title comes from the song World Spins Madly On by the Weepies.

Standing alone in a crowded room

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

When Alex finally works up the nerve to visit the Doctor Who set, she's almost finished filming for Upstairs Downstairs. It probably looks odd that she hasn't dropped by to see her friends yet, but until now, she hadn't been sure she could handle being so close to Matt without ruining her carefully-sculpted mask. Now, it doesn't feel so much like a mask as it does her only face. She has become so good at showing the world a blank facade that, in a way, it has become a part of her. She can't remember how to turn it off.

So when she opens the door and steps inside, her hands don't even shake. She looks around the set and sees the crew hard at work, readying the next scene for filming. She doesn't see Karen, Arthur, or him. They must be in Makeup.

Swallowing heavily, Alex tries to spot someone familiar, feeling out of place. She rubs the tips of her fingers nervously over her denim-clad thighs and wonders if maybe she should just turn around and walk back out again.

"Well, look who finally decided to pay a visit to the common folk!"

Alex laughs. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Turning around, she finds Steven striding toward her with a grin and she can't help but mirror him. In just a moment, she finds herself on the receiving end of a one-armed hug of surprising strength, and she returns it with genuine feeling, wrapping her arms around his waist. She always misses the Doctor Who family when she's away and coming back always feels like a return home. "It's good to see you," she says, stepping back and beaming at him.

"And you, my River," he says with a wink. "Set just isn't the same without you."

"Well I - "

"Oh my god, it's my daughter!"

Steven laughs loudly as Karen, having spotted her from across the set, darts past the cameramen in her robe, Arthur trudging along behind her. Alex offers a little wave. "Hello, mummy."

Even when she reaches her, Karen doesn't stop running, throwing herself at Alex and wrapping her arms around her neck. Finding herself with a mouthful of ginger hair, Alex laughs, wrapping Karen's tall, slender body in a warm hug.

"Mother-daughter bonding," Steven says dryly. "Is there anything more beautiful?"

Alex rolls her eyes, stepping back from Karen, who continues to hang on her arm. "You're just so proud of yourself, aren't you, clever clogs?"

Steven winks at her again and begins to stroll away, hands in his pockets. Over his shoulder, he calls, "Can't be proud of what comes naturally."

Snorting, Alex turns back to Karen just as Arthur reaches them, his pace much more sedate than Karen's had been. Tipping his head in her direction, Arthur says, "Pond Junior."

"Father, dear," she says, pulling him into a hug.

He returns it instantly, patting her back. "How are you?"

"I'm good," she says into his shoulder, and trying to sound like she means it.

Arthur squeezes her a little more tightly, like he doesn't believe her, and then he lets her go, stepping back. "Well," he says, smiling, "Karen tried to make coffee this morning and it was horrendous. Might be some left if you're feeling brave."

"Oi!" Karen smacks him on the arm. "I tried my best and Steven says that's all that matters."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur says, "He only said that so you'd quit stroking the coffee pot. It was weirding everyone out."

"I hate you," Karen grumbles. "See if I make coffee for you lot again."

"Is that supposed to make me feel bad or something?"

"Hey," Alex interrupts, holding up her hands even as she feels that familiar fondness at their bickering well up inside her. "No fighting in front of Pond Junior, parents."

They both look properly chastised. "Sorry," they mumble in unison.

Alex smiles. It feels good to be back.

And then, when she's feeling stronger than ever, when she thinks that maybe this won't be as bad as she had thought, that's when she spots him – standing in that long green coat on the other side of the room, just staring at her, like nothing in this world could tear his gaze away. Alex's breath leaves her in a rush and the world seems to tilt on its axis.

For a moment, she doesn't have the strength to break eye contact. If she looks away now, she just might shatter. They stand a whole room apart – people and set props between them - but it feels like no distance at all; as though if she truly concentrated, she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

He looks just as wonderful as she remembers. She had expected their time apart to change something, but God, he's still everything. In that second, all of those things she has been refusing to think about come trickling through the little crack in the wall of her mind.

Her Matt.

The man she loves so much that love doesn't even feel like a word adequate enough to express what she feels. The man she pushed away. The man whose voice she hasn't heard in weeks. The man she wants to run across the set to and throw her arms around – damn the consequences.

Shivering with the sudden and volatile intensity of her longing, Alex hurriedly glances away. She had pushed him away for several reasons, and those reasons are still valid, no matter her collapsing defenses. The eye contact hadn't lasted for more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity has passed. An eternity in which her whole world had been torn away, ripped apart and changed forever.

In the span of those few seconds, the carefully-built wall Alex has constructed around her has

crumbled, tumbling like a child's building blocks around her feet. She feels everything, and so much more acutely now. The rush of it almost leaves her gasping, like she's surfacing from the water after the current had almost drowned her.

It aches. Everywhere. Down to her very bones.

"Alex, tell him I don't have a coffee pot fetish!"

"She doesn't," Alex says automatically, feeling dazed. She doesn't realize until after the words are out of her mouth, how very choked she sounds.

It feels like all of the air has gone out of the room. Why doesn't anyone else look like they're choking on the nothingness?

For a moment, no one says anything and Alex swallows around the lump in her throat.

Arthur puts a hand on her arm. "You've been working too hard, haven't you? I told you to take it easy."

Karen is on the other side of her now, blocking her from everyone else in the room. "You look tired," she says softly. "I'm sorry I jumped on you earlier. I was just excited to see you -"

"No," Alex interrupts, voice stronger this time. She looks at them both, heart filled with so much fondness for them that it could burst. "I'm sorry. I just felt a bit dizzy all of a sudden. I'm quite alright now." She smiles, forcing a bright grin that feels as fake as it is. "And don't you dare apologize to me for that brilliant welcome – haven't felt so loved since the last time I saw you."

Karen laughs, looking relieved, and drapes an arm across her shoulders. "Well, in that case, let's go find you some coffee."

"Oh yeah," Arthur says, beginning to lead them both away. "That'll make her feel much better, Karen."

They're leading her further and further away from Matt, and Alex can't bring herself to look over her shoulder and see if he's still watching. She wants to be angry with him, for ruining everything

with a mere glance. After weeks of numbness, the feeling has returned to her life and everything is so much brighter than it was before.

The pain is still there, but just as vivid is the love. It hasn't faded in the slightest. If anything, it burns brighter than ever. She should have known getting over Matt Smith could never be so easy. But this is the first step, seeing him and not instantly falling to her knees. She hadn't run to him and begged him to take her back – she'd wanted to, but she hadn't. She had been strong, and she would have to continue to be so, if she wanted to get through this.

Eventually, with time and practice, eye contact would be easy.

"Well then you make the coffee, Darvill," Karen snaps. "It's not like you're so much better at it. Don't think I've forgotten when you accidentally poured it into your pocket instead of a mug!"

This time, when Alex laughs, it's almost genuine.

XxX

It's harder than he imagined, seeing her so close. It's been a month since their last conversation. A month since she literally begged him to stop phoning her.

But now, here she is, standing so far yet so close to him, laughing with Karen, though it doesn't really reach her eyes. He wonders how she's handling this. How she can so easily pretend that nothing happened between them. It's harder than pretending that nothing is actually happening.

That he's not spending his free time thinking about how amazing her hands feel in his hair, or how soft she is in all the right ways.

It is so much harder thinking he'll never enjoy any of that again. He'll never get to kiss her soft lips, or hold her in the night. He'll never get to spend his nights at her little place when she's here or paint with Salome ever again.

Oh, Salome.

He'll still get to see her when Alex brings her. They'll still get to goof around and play cards, but it's not the same.

None of it will ever be the same.

God, he just wants her back. He wants to take back his confession of love, because at least before that he knew he had her. He knew she was there for him when he couldn't take Daisy's insults any more, or if Karen had pushed one too many buttons (though he tried his best to never let her notice).

She looks at him, for just a split second, and his world falls apart. Her beautiful green eyes hold so much pain in them. She'll never master hiding her feelings from him.

Doesn't she see that this is hurting both of them? Doesn't she know he'll do anything for her; that all he wants to do is spend time with her and her daughter, like a family?

But no, there's no room for him in her world anymore.

But doesn't she know there's no him without her?

He doesn't know how to exist without her. Everything he does, everything he says carries no meaning. He's trying so hard with Daisy. He's doing right by her, like he should - like she deserves. Oh, but she deserves so much more.

He contradicts himself far too often, he knows.

He feels he deserves Alex's love, yet he's too much of a failure to deserve Daisy's.

He's worthless. He doesn't deserve either of them.

Matt watches as Karen and Arthur lead Alex away from the room, Arthur glancing his way, just once, before they've disappeared. Alex doesn't spare him another glance and he can't blame her.

He's not really a sight for her sore eyes, is he? He shoves his hands into his pockets, backtracking his way out of the room and back outside. The crisp air does nothing for his aching lungs and he manages to keep his hand from his face.

Last time, Makeup had yelled at him for scrubbing off the foundation.

Not that he cares.

Not about much. Not any more.

XxX

When he's finally released from set for the day, Matt takes a detour to the nearest pub. It's his first time drowning his pain in alcohol since that night, that first call of five. He can't really be bothered with the people who recognize him, asking him for spoilers for the show and autographs.

Grown men in a pub, asking him for autographs.

It's comical, really.

He brushes them off as nicely as possible, letting them know that he wants to be alone. They're polite enough to leave him to his pint, and he appreciates it.

As the time ticks by and he spends more and more of his money on beer, his mind fogs and the pain from the day, from seeing Alex, always so beautiful even in her sorrow, washes away. He begins to think of Daisy, probably out and about on the town, undoubtedly worrying about him constantly.

He should marry her, he thinks.

At least she cares; at least she wants him.

That's worth more than anything.

A little drunk and a little more out of his bleeding mind, Matt stands abruptly from his stool,

dropping some more money onto the counter before bounding outside for the nearest jewelry store. It's almost closing time, but they let him in thanks to his status.

He picks the first ring he sees. The jeweler asks him if he's sure, glancing over Matt warily. As if he knows.

As if he's made this mistake before.

Refusing to think it's a mistake (because it isn't - Daisy deserves the best and he's going to give it to her, dammit) he pays the full fee with his card. He'll wait, though. He'll wait to propose.

He's not stupid enough to do it while he's pissed.

Though, it sounds like a right good idea at the moment.

XxX

It doesn't take him long - a week at the most, to finally set up a way to propose to her. He's almost chickened out of it twice, thanks to reminders of curls and green eyes. But he steeled his resolve time and time again; he's going to propose to Daisy Lowe, tonight, in their shared home.

He stands next to the table, fiddling with the tablecloth and the candles and the cutlery ('What am I doing oh god what am I doing?'), making sure everything is right and perfect.

This is the right thing to do. Daisy deserves this and this is what Alex wants him to do. She wants him to move on and have a life with someone his age; who is he to deny what she wants for him?

Oh god, Alex.

Matt straightens his coat (fancy, because that's what you wear when you're proposing, right? You wear fancy clothes) and tries to calm his nerves.

He's doing the right thing.

Oh, who's he kidding? He's doing the wrong thing. He's making the only choice he can ('Don't lie to yourself - you could leave her. Spare her the pain of being with a man who doesn't love her.') and he's moving on with his life.

But there's no moving on for him, he knows. He knows that he'll forever remember the feel of her experienced touch, her exquisite kisses. He'll remember it all, even through old age and grey hair. He'll remember everything.

He's pulled from his reverie when he hears the front door slam shut ('Stop this, don't do this. This is wrong.') and footsteps through the living room. He clears his throat, stands a bit straighter, and waits.

Daisy enters the room, calling out his name. She pauses, taking in him and the romantic dinner table, shock on her face.

"What's this then?" she asks, her voice light and her eyes teasing.

('Matt, you're being an idiot. You're making the wrong choice.')

"Romantic dinner," he says with a forced grin, hoping his voice didn't sound as strained as he thought it did.

"Aw, aren't you a sweetie?" Daisy smiles, padding in to give him a kiss. He returns it, a little too forcefully, and then helps her out of her jacket. "What's on the menu?"

He can't stop himself. He can't keep up pretenses any longer and the words are ripped from his throat before he has the chance to finally listen to his mind: "Will you marry me?"

He doesn't see her face - her back is turned towards him - and he begins to doubt her answer. He thought she'd say yes, just because it's him and they've talked about this.

They've talked about marriage. Why isn't she answering?

He jumps a bit at the sound of her laugh, backing up, hurt. She turns, but there are tears in her eyes. She's crying and laughing, and he doesn't understand why.

"Of course I will!" She shouts, jumping on him and showering his face with kisses. The knot in his chest tightens ('What did you expect? Her to tell you no? You've really screwed up.') and his eyes well with tears.

They hold each other for a while, her talking excitedly about what she wants in the wedding as the tears continue to stream down her face.

He's thankful that his face is buried in her neck, because he's crying for a whole different reason.

He just made the biggest mistake of his life. How was Alex going to take it? What would her reaction be? For a moment, he can't breathe, can't think, but then he remembers this is what she wanted for him.

He would wait to tell everyone until he could see her face. See the happiness that he finally did what she wanted him to.

The tears come harder, and he doesn't realize until he's gasping for air and Daisy's whispering in his ear about how she understands. She's excited, and oh, she wants a June wedding.

A wedding.

What on Earth did he just do?

Chapter End Notes

Hello loves! Sorry for the late posting today but it couldn't be helped - our lovely beta Trialia got it to me as soon as she could but I've been in class all day and haven't been able to post it. Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos - Brinney and I are so grateful to each and every one of you. In this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. The chapter title comes from the Taylor Swift song Story of Us.

Sometimes it hurts instead

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

A week after her silent but jarring encounter with Matt and her first day of filming for Doctor Who, Alex is late getting to the set – Salome had been in a bit of a mood and getting her up and ready to spend the day with a babysitter had been more difficult than usual. As she rushes through the door, mess of curls pulled back and sunglasses hanging from her mouth as she rummages through her handbag for her buzzing mobile, she realizes that she hasn't really missed much. Instead of seeing the crew filming and stagehands scurrying around behind the set, she sees everyone standing around talking, Styrofoam cups in hand.

Confused, she stops in the middle of the room and answers her phone, glancing around the room. "Hello?"

"Mum?" Salome asks, and Alex sighs.

"Yes, love."

Salome begins to explain what she and the babysitter are going to do that day, wonders aloud whether or not she should take her new sweater with her when they go out, and complains about how she hates the way the babysitter makes the eggs . Alex only half-listens, responding in all the appropriate places as she tries to understand why everyone seems to be celebrating, and just what she has missed.

Her eyes land on Matt in the corner of the room, surrounded by people and looking entirely too lovely for such an early hour of the morning. He looks up from the conversation he seems to be having with Beth and his eyes meet hers. Alex takes an unconscious step back but she can't seem to look away from him, almost hypnotized by the nostalgic, yearning look on his face. It hasn't gotten any easier, meeting his gaze. She had thought time would make it hurt less, but so far, she has been proved wrong. It still takes her breath away, every time. Matt's eyes are regretful as he watches her, but he doesn't make a move to come toward her and when Beth touches his arm to get his attention, he quickly glances away.

A little shaken by their wordless encounter, Alex comes back to herself to hear Salome saying her name repeatedly with increasing frustration. "Y-yes, I'm here. Sorry darling." She takes a deep breath, turning away from the room full of people. "I'm at work right now, sweetheart. Can we talk about this when I get back?"

Arthur approaches her just as she's hanging up and tossing her phone back into her bag, and she smiles at him and jerks a thumb in the direction of the impromptu party. "What's all this for?"

Frowning a little, Arthur offers her a cup and Alex realizes it's champagne. "You haven't heard?" he asks, and she shakes her head, sipping from her cup. "Matt asked Daisy to marry him last night." Arthur gestures around them wryly. "Apparently she said yes."

Alex feels all the blood drain from her face at once. The cup of champagne suddenly feels like a dead weight in her grasp; she places it on the table next to her with a shaking hand. "Oh?" she says, hoping her voice doesn't sound as breathless and hollow as she thinks it does.

If Arthur notices, he doesn't say anything. "Yeah, pretty spontaneous, it seems."

Quickly scanning the room for Matt, Alex finds him where he was before, talking to Steven and

Karen now. He's smiling – that lovely, bright smile she's always been so fond of – and he looks like she is the furthest thing from his mind.

The way it should be.

Alex suddenly feels as though she might be sick, like all the air has been sucked out of the room and no one else seems to notice that she's suffocating. "Excuse me," she chokes out, and she knows Arthur has to have noticed the waver in her voice, however much she tries to hide it.

Right now, she can't bring herself to care.

Walking quickly from the room, she makes it into the hallway before she lets the hot tears sting her eyes. She strides blindly down the corridor in the general direction of the loo, hoping it's empty. She bursts into the room and finding it unoccupied, she flips the lock on the door and leans her back against it, sliding slowly down to the floor.

Alex tucks her legs up to her chest and tries to take a deep breath. To her horror, she feels the hot tears in her eyes begin to slide down her cheeks. She puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob and leans her head back against the door. She thinks of Matt shopping for a ring, that ridiculous grin on his face when he finds just the right one. She thinks of him planning his proposal and getting down on one knee. She thinks of him sliding the ring onto Daisy's finger before she throws herself at him and wraps her arms around his neck.

Last night.

When she'd been tucking Salome into bed and curling up on the sofa with her arms wrapped around herself, watching The Philadelphia Story on her own in the dark, Matt had been proposing.

Alex takes a shuddering breath and tries to pull herself together. This is what she wanted, after all - for Matt to be with someone his age, someone who would make him happy and not cause a scandal. Someone who doesn't come with all the baggage she carries around with her. Someone he can have children with.

She broke things off with Matt so that he could have the chance to have those things and not throw his whole life away by tying himself down to someone like her. She hadn't wanted him to feel obligated – like he would be breaking Salome's heart if he walked away. So she made him leave. He's too young to be so miserable, but she can handle it just fine.

Heartbreak is something Alex has always been well-versed in.

xXx

Matt watches her leave, heart racing in his chest. It wasn't worth it, he thinks, announcing his engagement to Daisy on the set, just to see her reaction.

Wow, he's a right twat, isn't he?

The look of heartbreak on her face when she was speaking to Arthur, who was undoubtedly telling her the news, made all his plans, all his ideas, seem petty and childish.

"Of course they were, you git," he whispers harshly to himself. Karen glances at him curiously, head tilted.

"What was that?" she asks, confused. He merely shakes his head, excusing himself. He places his cup down next to Alex's discarded one as he follows her path to the hall. She would have gone to

the loo, he knows, and he strides purposefully in that direction.

Her destroyed green eyes flash in his mind when he comes to stand by the door to the loo. What is he supposed to say to make this right? 'Hey, sorry I proposed to my girlfriend, please stop being sad?'She's the one who caused this. She's the one who shoved his love back in his face so adamantly, claiming he was a dolt for thinking she returned the feelings. Matt lets his forehead drop against the door silently, eyes stinging.

When their eyes had met, he'd wanted nothing more but to gather her in his arms and regain everything they had. The stolen kisses, the long nights, everything. He doesn't want to be engaged to someone he didn't love, but how else is he supposed to get on with his life? Before Alex, he and Daisy had been solid. Everything had been working out as it should have been.

Now everything is a mess and he blames her. Her beautiful smile, her soft touch. He blames the way she kisses with such unadulterated passion, the way she cares for her daughter more than she cares for anyone else. He blames the way she moves and can make the most awkward moments seem completely right as rain.

He blames her for making him fall in love with everything she is.

Alex Kingston, one of the most beautifully brilliant people he's ever met, is on the other side of this door, falling apart and contradicting every word she ever spat at him and there's absolutely nothing he can do. He can't yell at her for being stupid, he can't kiss her and beg her to come back to him. None of that had worked before, why would it now?

"Alex," he whispers and it hurts. There are no pretenses between him and this door. There's no pretending everything is as it should be, because no one knows. No, it's just him, his feelings, an inanimate object and the unaware love of his life.

He wants to punch the wood. He wants to bang on it and force his way inside. He wants to stand here and wait for her to open the door, he wants her to let him hold her and comfort her like he had when Salome had come down with a serious case of the flu and her father had been too far away, too busy, to come and check if she was all right. Instead, Matt pulls himself away reluctantly, wiping furiously at the tears that stain his cheeks.

She'd wanted this, so she'd have to deal with it, just as he is.

It takes all of his strength to walk away, back to the crowd of people celebrating his engagement, but Matt does it with his head held high and his emotions pushed into the back of his mind.

He will plaster a fake smile on his face, take the congratulatory hugs in stride and breathe through it. If nothing else, he'll forget it's all a lie and maybe, maybe be able to live with her choices and his.

If not, there's always running away. If playing the Doctor has taught him one thing, it's that running is sometimes the best choice. Maybe not the smartest, but the best.

xXx

Thankfully, they don't have any scenes together that day and Alex manages to avoid Matt for the most part. She tries to distract herself from thinking too much about the fact that Matt is someone's fiancé now but even when she's saying her lines and swinging River's gun around, she can't forget. It certainly doesn't help that occasionally throughout the day, yet another person will come up to Matt and clap him on the back, congratulating him on his engagement.

Once, Alex doesn't look away from the spectacle in time and she sees Matt's answering smile,

bright and frozen. She likes to think she knows him well enough to know when he's being sincere and when he isn't, but at this point, she has no right to claim such a thing. Maybe that smile is genuine; maybe he's truly happy and looking forward to his future with Daisy.

It hurts to think of it, but god, she hopes so. She wants him to be happy – this man who gave her those few beautiful months together and all those happy memories of feeling wanted and adored. He deserves to be happy.

It hasn't been easy, filming again with Matt since their breakup, but she likes to think she has managed fairly well in acting like nothing is wrong. But today is different. Occasionally, Alex has to remind herself to act like she's fine. Like it doesn't hurt to just stand there and breathe.

At the end of the day, when filming has wrapped for the night and she's on her way out the door, she is so distracted by thoughts of 'breathe' and 'I just want to go home to my child and forget this bloody awful day ever happened' and 'breathe, for god's sake' that she isn't paying much attention to where she's going.

When she hears a distinct grunt of pain or shock – perhaps both – as she opens the door to the studio, she glances up in surprise to find Matt standing on the other side of the door, a hand to his forehead.

"Oh god," she says, dropping her handbag. "I'm sorry! Are you all right?"

Matt nods, eyes scrunched and mouth twisting in a grimace. "Probably deserved that," he mutters.

Alex frowns. "What?"

"Nothing," he says, straightening and putting his hand down. "Quite a solid door they've got."

"I'm sorry," she says again. Inching forward a bit, Alex tries to get a closer look at his forehead in the dim light of the studio car park, searching for a bruise. "It's not bleeding, but it looks a little red."

"S'all right," Matt shrugs, smiling a little. "Never do look where you're going, do you, Kingston?"

She finds herself smiling back at him before she remembers that he isn't about to take her in his arms and demand that she kiss his injury better, like some sort of petulant child. Those days are gone. She'll never kiss his forehead or his lips or that ridiculous chin ever again.

And just like that, the smile slides right off her face and she's left looking at her shoes and blinking back tears. Matt says nothing, glancing away from her, and she's too busy trying not to cry in front of him to see what expression he's wearing. Probably one of pity.

Looking up again and pushing an errant curl from her eyes, she forces another smile, but this

one feels fake and she knows he can tell the difference. "I hear you have some exciting news," she says.

Matt only stares at her, pain in his eyes. "Alex - "

She cuts him off before he can get any further – too afraid of whatever he might say to let him continue. "I'm sure the ring is beautiful; you always did have wonderful taste, didn't you?" She glances away. "Have you set a date yet?"

For a moment, she thinks Matt won't answer her, but finally, he quietly says, "Two months from now."

Breath catching in her throat, Alex closes her eyes. "So soon?"

"Daisy wants a June wedding," he says softly, and the tone of his voice forces Alex to open her eyes and look at him.

When she sees the tears in his eyes, she wants to cross the short distance between them and wrap her arms around him. She wants to stroke his hair and make it better, tell him that he's doing the right thing and that he doesn't need to feel sad for her – she'll go on.

She always does.

Instead, she says, "I'm sure it will be lovely." He nods, still staring at her with wide eyes but he doesn't try to speak again and for that, she's grateful to him. She can't talk about his wedding any more and still be expected to remain a calm, rational person. Lifting her eyes to his, she pulls herself together and smiles, managing to breathe out, "Congratulations, Matt. I-I'm happy for you."

Not waiting for an answer, and not entirely sure she would get one from him anyway, Alex picks up her handbag again and walks past him out into the car park. She doesn't let herself look back, choosing instead to rummage through her bag for her car keys.

The tears in her eyes make it a bit hard to see but she manages, telling herself that at least it's over now. Tomorrow, they have scenes together and their encounter just now will make it easier to get through them. It'll only get better from here. Before she knows it, he'll be just a fling she had with a co-worker once.

Alex unlocks her car and slides into the driver's seat. For a moment, she just sits there and tries to convince herself that it won't be so bad. That by the time Matt's wedding arrives in June, she'll be sending the happy couple a new toaster and she won't have to fake a smile around Matt or his new wife. Eventually, it won't hurt anymore.

Resting her forehead against the steering wheel, Alex shuts her eyes and releases a shaky sigh.

There are only so many lies she can tell herself.

xXx

He's doing a lot of watching her walk away today. He can't say he enjoys it as much as he used to, when he'd watch her arse sway to and fro with a smirk.

Now all Matt can think about is how wrong everything is. There are so many things he had wanted to say in that moment. He'd wanted to tell her what a stupid idea it was to ask Daisy to marry him when he is still so in love with her. He'd wanted to tell her that she's thick for trying to hide things from him.

He's being so contradictory. Just hours ago, he was telling himself he was going to deal with this and move on, and now here he is wishing for things that can never happen, like the extremely hopeless sap he is.

Not even the whack on the head from the door can dull the ache in his chest as he watches her - for what seems like an eternity - retreat into the dark car park. He's still standing in the dim light outside the set when he finally hears her car zoom out, carrying her further and further away from him, as if physical distance is the only thing that can accomplish that.

If he thought the look of utter heartbreak on her face earlier was horrible, he'd been so off the mark. It was watching her pretend to be happy for him as her eyes rimmed red. It was hearing her

telling him congratulations as her voice cracked. It was watching her walk away from him again, still believing this was right; that this is what should be done.

He thinks of the ring he bought Daisy a week ago, and the drunken thought of throwing it all away for someone who wants him instead of the one who kept pushing him away. He's never been known for making the best of decisions. The two times he ever felt right in what he was choosing, was when he decided to audition for the role of the Doctor and when he went to Alex's hotel that first night.

And now he's making all the wrong ones.

He refrains from punching the metal door that had so rudely slammed into him earlier, knowing his hand can no longer take any sort of pressure. The joints still ache from the last time. It takes too much work to even sign his name anymore.

He deals with it.

Just as he promised himself he'd deal with this. He steps down off the pavement, hands in his pockets, and strides towards his car. He doesn't get in it when he reaches it, merely taking in his face in the tinted window.

It makes his face distorted, stretching his nose even wider; it elongates his chin and he looks like the screwed-up mess he feels. He does not want to go home to his fiancée. He doesn't want to go anywhere, really. There's no place that feels like home anymore, not for him.

He's engaged to a woman he doesn't love, the woman he does love is avoiding him like the plague, and his friends have no idea what's going on.

Staring at himself in the passenger-side window of his car, Matt has never felt more alone. He's going to have to help plan this wedding, go through with it and live unhappily ever after, and feel alone all the while doing it.

Daisy doesn't deserve this, he knows. Daisy Lowe deserves a man who can love her with all his heart and then some, and there was a time when he was that man. But then his heart was stolen away, so quickly, by a woman with wild hair and sparkling green eyes and her

beautiful, fantastic little girl.

Green eyes that have lost their sparkle and wild hair that's seemingly uncared for, unless done by the hairdresser on set, and a little girl that he hardly sees anymore.

"I love you," he whispers into the cold air, cheeks marred by his now-flowing tears. Might as well get them out before he goes home to his loving fianceé, who seems to be hyper-aware of his every emotion lately.

Matt rests his head against the cool frame of his car, gasping for breath as a drowning man would. That's exactly what he's doing, he knows.

He's drowning.

He's drowning in thoughts of what he had with Alex Kingston; what he lost with her. He's drowning in the 'ifs' and 'maybes.' He's drowning in the bittersweet memories and the all too real sorrow.

He wonders if he'll ever remember how it feels to breathe easy and feel the way he should feel. Feel love for his soon-to-be wife, feel the once-easy air that used to flow between him and Alex.

He highly doubts it. He's too in love with her for anything to ever be the way it was, just as she was.

Biting at the inside of his cheek, he moves around to the driver's side of his car, slipping in just as the storm that has been brewing all day lets loose. He stares blankly at the rapidly falling droplets on his windscreen, takes a deep breath, and puts the key in the ignition.

"One day," he tells himself, flipping the windscreen wipers on, "it will all fade. One day, I'll be numb, and you, Alex Kingston, will be nothing but a tiny blip of pain on my heart."

He knows the words are a lie, but they keep him sane.

Lies are the only thing that helps him get through the long seconds, the never-ending minutes of his days.

He'll embrace them like he embraced his sorrow.

Easily.

Chapter End Notes

We LOVE you all and your amazing reactions to the angst. Thanks so much for your comments and kudos:) And thank you to Trialia for being our lovely beta! I wrote from Alex's point of view for this chapter and Brinney wrote from Matt's. Chapter title from Adele's Someone Like You.

You said move on, where do I go?

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Matt never thought wedding planning would be so difficult. He always figured he'd have simple things, like white tablecloths and the priest from the church he went to as a child. A small church, of course, because grand is too much. Big churches make his head spin, and an outside wedding would just make him sneeze. So a small wedding inside a small church.

Women make these things difficult, though.

Especially when you're marrying Daisy Lowe, who wants a big church with an outside reception and the priest that has the best credentials (why does that even matter? His childhood priest would have been perfectly fine) and exquisitely designed tablecloths.

And let's not forget about the flowers, the invitations, the decorative lace and bows, and oh, the colors. The colors of everything.

White is too bland, Daisy says. What about off-white? Ivory maybe. Eggshell for the invitations, I think.

'Bloody hell, woman, I don't care.'

And he really doesn't. He doesn't care what it's going to look like or how much money she's going to spend. Not anymore. This can be her perfect wedding, because he's definitely not going to have his. Not with the things he wants. Not with the woman he wants.

Maybe he should care, he thinks, as he looks at the prices of the flower

arrangements. Outrageously high for a group of plants that will wither and die in a matter of days.

"What were you thinking, for flowers, baby?" Daisy asks him as she loops her arm through his. They continue their stroll through the displays, the scent of her perfume warring with the natural floral scents around them. He much prefers the scent of the flowers than her, to be perfectly honest.

Well, to be perfectly honest, it's because it reminds him most of the perfume Alex always wore. The one that was light in intensity and yet floral in a beautiful way.

Coming back to himself, he realizes Daisy had asked him about his choice of flowers.

Right.

"Peonies," he says without thinking. Peonies?

XxX

"Favorite flower?" He whispers against her lips. She laughs softly, arching into his touch as his fingers dip lower and lower.

"We can, ah…stop the twenty questions, now, dear.. We left the living room a long time ago," she chides. Her legs fall open against the mattress, giving his hand room to move around.

"Answer the question, Kingston," he demands between nips on her chin. His middle finger slips inside her heat, just barely, and her hips arch harshly.

"Peonies, if you… must know," she gasps. Her hand wraps around his bicep, nails digging deep into the skin. He smiles, kissing her fully as he slams his finger deep inside, quickly followed by another…

XxX

"…don't like peonies. I was thinking more along the lines of something simple, like daisies. Because, well, you know, my name is Daisy and I think it's kind of…"

Whatever Daisy says falls on deaf ears as Matt tries to control his reaction to the pain that has just blindsided him. He had bought Alex a dozen peonies after that night, sending them to her doorstep with a small note that read, "Almost as beautiful as you are." The ensuing phone call that had followed was right worth it, he thinks.

But flower arrangements for his wedding to Daisy aren't.

Suddenly, Matt just wants to get as far away as he can from any type of flower. He wants to escape Daisy's clinging grasp and twenty questions. He's marrying the wrong woman and yet, he's still going through with it.

He knows he's making all the wrong choices. He knows it better than anyone, but he's doing this for her. For Alex Kingston, who had requested he treat Daisy properly. The woman who wants him to move on, forget her and have a happy life.

A happy life.

The idea of a happy life without Alex is an outright ridiculous one. Why doesn't she realize that? He's paid to act every day but he never could act when it came to her. He practically gave himself away the day he announced his engagement. Standing outside the studio with her that day, he'd wanted to let it all out. Tug her into his arms and not let her go; not until she realized that he was never going to get over her.

But he didn't.

He could really do with a drink right now.

When is he supposed to meet up with Karen and Arthur? Seven. Right. When does seven come, again?

Too far away, if you ask him, as Daisy drags him further and further into the flower displays, stopping at all the daisies and 'oohing' and 'awwing.'

Peonies are much prettier anyway.

XxX

The street café is busy, but not overly populated since it's just past the dinner rush. Twinkle lights

have been strung throughout the trees to give off a sweet, romantic glow and the smell of cappuccino and whipped cream is prominent in the warm evening breeze.

It's perfect but all Alex can think is, 'What the bloody hell am I doing here?'

This is all Regina's fault. Back in America again for the last two days, Alex had dropped Salome off for a sleepover with Regina's daughter Molly, and they'd somehow gotten onto the subject of Alex's status as a single mother. Regina couldn't seem to have a conversation with her without prodding her for information on her personal life. Alex had politely replied that she wasn't seeing anyone – most people don't count being wholly in love with an engaged man and nursing a broken heart as 'in a relationship' – and things had snowballed from there, despite her reluctance. Regina had a male friend who was single as well – Max – a pediatrician who has never seen an episode of Doctor Who or ER in his life. 'You're always saying you need a nice, average guy!'

Yes, she did say that, once upon a time months and months ago. It feels like a lifetime. That lifetime and one broken heart later, the man she wants is anything but average.

She isn't ready for this.

But somehow, she'd found herself thinking of Matt in London, planning his wedding and going out with his friends and moving on with his life. She needs to do the same, whether she feels like it or not. When was the last time she had gone out with friends and genuinely had a good time?

The last time she did something that didn't involve work or her daughter? She can't dwell on what she lost forever, and she doesn't want to end up spending the rest of her life alone.

And so Alex finds herself sitting across from this man she has never met before and trying to make awkward conversation while silently despairing the fact that she has apparently forgotten how to date.

When did she get so old?

She must not be doing too terribly because Max hasn't left yet, and he's smiling at her. She tries to smile back but it feels so fake that she stops, glancing down at her coffee.

"So what do you like to do for fun?" He asks, and his attention is solely on her. Usually, she might find that flattering. Right now, she just wants him to look away so she doesn't have to keep up the constant façade of cheerfulness.

In her head, she replies to his question, 'Dancing spontaneously in the living room, feathers, handcuffs, singing into wooden spoons while making dinner, tickling, kissing, making fun of news anchors on the evening telly - '

She stops herself, making a fist in her lap and sighing quietly.

Looking up with a soft smile, she shrugs. "I don't really get much free time, with my schedule. But when I do I usually like to spend as much time as I can with my daughter."

"Regina mentioned you had a daughter," Max says. "I look forward to meeting her."

"What about you?" She asks. "What do you like to do?"

While Max begins to talk, Alex lets her mind stray, remembering to nod and hum thoughtfully in the appropriate places.

On the outside, she looks politely interested, but inside, she's wondering when she can go home without appearing rude. She's studying his features in the café's twinkle lights and finding him lacking.

He's certainly attractive – that isn't the problem.

The problem is that he's broad shoulder and rugged, and she misses long limbs, a thin frame and adorable clumsiness. The problem is that his hair is blonde and cropped short, and she can't imagine running her fingers through it. The problem is that he had taken her hand on the walk here and she had had to fight every single urge to pull away. His hands are too big, too clumsy – not long and slender, soft as they wound through her hair and curled around her hips. She looks at Max, and there is no desire, not even a faint stirring of affection and with someone else, a glance had ignited her whole being into flames.

The problem is that he isn't Matt.

His name is close - Max. She has almost called him Matt twice already, despite how different the two men are.

He's a children's doctor and apparently brilliant with kids. He wants to meet her daughter, when the mention of a child usually sends most men running. He's sweet and polite, he's normal - so deliciously unaware of her celebrity in another country. He's fantastic, and all she can think about is a man thousands of miles and an ocean away, probably helping his fiancé pick out flower arrangements.

It isn't fair to Max, comparing him to someone he isn't even aware he's competing against. But it just feels wrong. Everything feels wrong. She wonders idly if Matt has set the bar so high that no other man will ever be able to reach it. She wonders if anyone else will ever be able to make her so happy.

When her cell phone rings halfway through dessert, Alex nearly knocks over her second coffee in her haste to answer it. It's Salome's babysitter, asking if it's all right if Salome watches The Thing.

Alex excuses herself from the table and answers the question inside the café. No, Salome has nightmares and Alex doesn't feel like having her daughter in her bed for the next week. She tells the babysitter to put in Princess Bride instead and hangs up.

Back at her table, she gathers her purse and tells Max that she has to leave because Salome isn't feeling well. She feels terrible for lying and bailing on her date, but continuing at this point would be futile anyway. Max is a great guy, but she just isn't ready for this.

Maybe one day, she will be.

Or maybe, a soft voice in her head suggests, no one else will ever be enough.

XxX

Matt lets out a long-suffering sigh, fingers toying with the label of his beer as he vaguely listens to Karen. She sits across from him and next to Arthur, who looks at least mildly interested in what she has to say. Daisy has wandered off to the loo, which is a welcome relief from her presence. A moment away from a woman he doesn't love is like a moment in which he's allowed to breathe.

Though, it always feels like he can't breathe.

He can never breathe, not anymore.

Not without her.

But he made the choice to propose to the woman who is currently with him; the woman who loves him and is willing to admit it. Which brings him full-circle in the silent pity fest, because the Kingston is too scared to love him and he is too pathetic to continue to try to break her defenses. So he's settling.

He is forever going to settle.

"Matt, are you listening to me?" Karen huffs, hands waving frantically in his face. He blinks, sitting up and leaning on the table.

"I am now," he says with a forced grin, wincing inside at the almost knowing look Arthur sends his way. Sometimes, that man has too much insight. Once, he even questioned if Arthur knew about what was going on, but quickly came to the decision that of course he didn't. No one did.

"Fat lot of good that does me," Karen grumbles, crossing her arms. "We're out for a fun night on the town, you, me, Arthur and Daisy and you sit here like you'd rather be sleeping."

"Haven't been getting much of that, actually," Matt points out with a shrug. He avoids looking at Arthur because the feel of that man's eyes on Matt's face is beginning to burn. "Anyway, continue whatever it was you were saying."

"Well, it's pointless now, isn't it? You weren't even listening!"

"Karen," Arthur chides, nudging her with his elbow. "He's tired. That's all. Start again."

Karen lets out a sigh, dropping her face into her upraised palm as she begins in a monotone voice, "I was saying that I've been missing a lot of people lately. Like Patrick, and my mum. I sometimes wish my filming schedule was more like Alex's. Even with a daughter, she finds the time to date, and I can't even visit my family or boyfriend."

"Wait," Matt states abruptly, back straightening as he stares at Karen, hoping he'd heard her

wrong. "She's dating? Who?"

"I don't know, really. She mentioned it last time we talked," Karen shrugs, eying him warily. "Why?"

He can't really explain why he's interested to her, he knows, but he's far too invested in who Alex went out with, when, and where to really care if he comes off too forward.

"When was it?" He asks this time, eyes darting in the direction of the toilets to ensure Daisy hasn't chosen this moment to come back.

"Er, last week? I think."

"What'd she say about it?" He rushes on, leaning forward, arms on the table. Karen laughs and he doesn't understand why until she's talking again.

"Stop being such a big brother," Karen chastises, slapping at his hand playfully. "It's unbecoming when she's clearly old enough to take care of herself."

Ignoring her scolding, he forges on through clenched teeth, "Who was it?"

"Jeez! I don't know! Besides, it doesn't even matter. She said it didn't go over well anyway," Karen says with a wave of her hand, clearly exasperated.

"Why, what happe-"

"I think we need more beer, eh?" Arthur states, gesturing to the bar with a hand as he stares pointedly at Matt. "Why don't you go get us some, mate?"

Matt stares back at Arthur for a long moment, but the stare-off is interrupted when Daisy drops her handbag onto the table with a sigh.

"Those toilets are very disgusting," she grumbles, pushing her bangs from her face. She moves to

sit back down next to Matt, but he holds a hand out to her. She sends him a questioning gaze, but he scoots out of the booth and kisses her cheek.

"We need more liquor," he mumbles before heading off towards the bar. Once he reaches it, he scrubs a hand over his face, motioning to the bartender with a flick of his wrist. He'd nearly given himself away back there and in the moment, he hadn't cared. If Daisy had shown up sooner, she would have questioned his questions and he really did not want to deal with that.

"Thank you, Arthur," he mumbles, tangling his fingers in his hair.

"You're welcome," Arthur says from next to him. Matt nearly jumps out of his skin, glaring at the other man.

"That was not cool, mate," Matt accuses, pointing a finger into Arthur's chest harshly. He merely shrugs, turning to face forward.

"And you asking those questions was? You were making it far too obvious, and I personally don't want to be in the middle of that heated conversation between you and your fiancée."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Matt says quickly, hoping he'd heard Arthur wrong. He's disappointed when Arthur turns back to face him, brow arched.

"Halloween, last year. Who do you think stopped Karen from opening all her closet doors to find the source of that woman screaming?" He asks bluntly, face blank.

Matt doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know if he can speak. Arthur Darvill knows about his affair with Alex Kingston. He knows, and hasn't told anyone. Mouth agape, Matt takes in the honesty on his good friend's face and for a moment, for a brief moment, he wants to spill everything. He wants to confess all his feelings, describe every glorious, heated, heartbreaking moment he'd shared with the woman he loves, because he finally can. But that moment is quickly gone and Matt knows he can't talk about it. He doesn't want to bring in any unnecessary people into this - he and Alex had already screwed things up for Salome. Nothing else is going to happen.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he finally says, voice quiet. "She wants nothing to do with me."

Arthur scoffs, turning his back against the bar. He stares at Matt with such intensity that Matt has

to turn away, finally noticing the fresh beer in front of him.

He grabs a bottle and takes a sip as Arthur begins to walk away, saying over his shoulder, "Yeah, that's why she was so bloody heartbroken when I told her about your engagement."

Matt freezes mid-sip, turning to watch the retreating back of his friend. He knew she had been in pain. It's not like she could easily hide her feelings from him, ever, but having another person confirm his suspicions is like a slap in the face.

So bloody heartbroken.

"Oh, Alex," he whispers brokenly, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth to refrain from screaming out his frustration. "Why are you doing this to us?"

'Why'd you give in so easily?' His mind whispers back. He shuts his eyes, glancing back at the table, where his friends and fiancée sit. 'Why'd you propose?'

He returns to the table, beers in hand, with that question fresh in his mind.

Sitting at that table with people who clearly care about him, that he questions every ever-loving decision he's ever made.

And hates every single one of them.

Chapter End Notes

For this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. The chapter title comes from Katy Perry's Thinking of You. Thank you all so much for your comments and kudos! -hugs-

With hope you burn up

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It just so happens that Alex is back London – through no choice of her own – in time for Matt's wedding. Filming a cliffhanger scene at the end of an episode in Doctor Who, she and Salome are in town for the week-long hype leading up to the big day and Alex does absolutely everything she can to avoid it. She doesn't watch the telly, she doesn't listen to the radio and when she has to go into the supermarket she looks anywhere but at the magazines and newspapers. The timing is horrible and painful, but there's nothing for it but to stay away from media coverage and try to get out of England as soon as she can. For most of the week, she manages relatively well but she should have known it wouldn't last.

The doorbell rings around 8:30 on the night before Matt's wedding while Alex is in the middle of playing Pretty Pretty Princess with Salome. She answers the door in her nightgown, a gaudy plastic ring on her right index finger and a lopsided crown atop her head.

Karen stands on her front stoop, illuminated by the light of her phone as she types out a quick text. She glances up at Alex and gives a startled laugh. "Oh my god. You look very…tipsy."

Alex snorts and stands aside, letting her in. "I'm playing a board game with Salome. What are you doing here, and looking so dressed up?"

Karen's looking around her foyer in an electric blue mini dress and sky-high heels, her ginger hair voluminous and framing her pretty face. She curtsies at Alex's compliment, smiling a little. "I'm heading out for Daisy's hen night. Just wanted to come by and see you first."

"Ah," Alex says, turning away and pulling the crown from her tangled curls. She probably doesn't sound very enthusiastic, but it's the night before the man she loves marries someone else. Enthusiasm has left the building.

Alex leads Karen through to the living room, where Salome sits in her pajamas, wearing bright plastic earrings, a ring on almost every finger, and all the necklaces wrapped around her neck.

"Nice," Karen laughs, giving her the thumbs up. "You're winning, I see."

Salome looks smug, pushing tousled brown curls from her eyes. "Mom isn't very good at this

game."

"Oh, thank you," Alex says, tossing the crown at her daughter, who giggles and dodges out of the way.

While Salome goes back to fiddling with her jewelry, sorting through the bracelets, Alex ushers Karen to an armchair. "What are you visiting me for?" She asks, sitting on the sofa across from her. "Shouldn't you be having way too many tequila shots right now?"

Karen nods, rolling her eyes. "I'm on my way, honestly. I just wanted to - " She stops when her phone buzzes in her hand, glancing down. "Hang on, text from Arthur. He's at Matt's stag."

Glancing away before Karen notices her visible flinch, Alex purses her lips to keep them from trembling and watches Salome admiring the rings on her fingers.

Karen chuckles at whatever Arthur has said and types back a quick response. "Sorry," she says. "Matt was dared to convince a girl to give him her knickers. Apparently, every single girl in the pub fell all over herself to hand hers over."

Karen starts to laugh all over again at the imagery and Alex laughs with her because if she doesn't, she's either going to throw something or burst into tears right in front of her daughter and her co -worker. Heartbroken, gut wrenching sobs the likes of which the Shakespearean stage has never seen.

"I can only imagine what Daisy's going to have to do," Karen says, still giggling. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

Alex almost chokes, but she covers it with a polite cough and shakes her head, nodding in Salome's direction. "I don't think a hen night is the most appropriate place for a ten year old little girl." The thought of attending Daisy's hen night is horrifying. Aside from Alex's own misery, Daisy would only send her glares all evening anyway – the girl has never really liked Alex. Alex can't blame her.

"Well, your craziness will be sorely missed," Karen says, ignoring her phone when it buzzes again. "Everything is more boring when you aren't there."

Alex wants to hug her, but she stays where she is, smiling at her friend instead. A heartfelt hug

probably wouldn't help her fragile emotional state right now. "I'm sure you'll get along just fine without me."

"Well, I'll save you a seat at the church tomorrow, at least," Karen says and Alex glances away, swallowing.

"I'm not going to the wedding," she says quietly, avoiding Karen's gaze.

"What?" Karen asks, bemused. "Why on earth not?"

Before Alex can offer some kind of paper-thin excuse through the haze of tears in her eyes, Salome scrambles over to Karen's side, holding up a bright blue beaded bracelet from the board game. She takes Karen's hand and slides the bracelet onto her wrist, smiling shyly. "It matches your dress," she says.

Karen looks from the bracelet to Salome, and then back again before she breaks into a huge smile, ruffling Salome's hair. "Oh my gosh, you're right! It does match." She touches the beads lightly, like the bracelet is made of gold rather than plastic. "Thank you. I promise to bring it back in perfect condition."

Salome beams up at her and Karen watches with fond affection written all over her face as the girl scoots across the floor, back to the board game. Alex smiles, grateful for the time to pull herself together without Karen's eyes on her. Salome could charm a hobo out of his last holey boot, so it isn't any wonder that everyone on set adores her. They've never seen her in one of her pre-teen moods.

Still fiddling with her newly acquired bracelet, Karen turns razor sharp focus back on Alex. "Why aren't you going to the wedding? You'll be in town tomorrow, won't you?"

Alex had never actually received an invitation to the wedding, which she suspects was Matt's doing. She's never been more grateful to him – she doesn't know how she would have kept from falling apart if she'd gotten a lace-trimmed invitation to his wedding in the mail. Telling Karen she wasn't invited isn't actually an option, and neither is telling her that watching Matt marry Daisy might actually kill her. She would have no business being there anyway – not after what she and Matt have done behind Daisy's back. Not when she's so in love with the groom that she doesn't trust herself not to stand up when the priests asks for objections, instead of sitting quietly and watching him kiss the bride – watching him go on to have the life she knows he would be happier with in the long run.

So instead, Alex begins to explain about a prior engagement that requires her absence, and how she simply can't make it to the wedding. In all honestly, she doesn't even plan on leaving the house. She doesn't want to do anything tomorrow but avoid news coverage of the wedding, not bother with even getting dressed, and try not to cry until Salome is in bed. It's going to be a long, hellish day.

She can't wait until it's over – when she doesn't have to think about it anymore. Matt will be a married man, and Alex will be forced to move on with her life and let go of him. Let go of them. It's for the best and she knows it, but that doesn't make living with her choice any easier. Being right doesn't mean she stops loving him, and it doesn't make her heart hurt any less.

Karen stops her halfway through her thrown -together explanation, holding up a slim hand and shaking her head. "Alex…are you and Matt okay? I mean, are you having some sort of tiff?"

Alex stares at her, unmoving.

"Because you don't talk like you used to. I hardly ever see you two together on set anymore unless you're doing a scene together. And now you're not going to his wedding?"

Karen glances down at Salome, who is flicking the spinner on the board game and obviously listening very closely. Salome, bless her, hasn't mentioned Matt since Alex told her that mummy and Matty couldn't be friends anymore and the sound of his name in their home has to have startled her. There was a time when Salome talked of nothing else but Matty and what silly antics they'd gotten up to that do, but now she understands that Matt is a relic of their past – a beloved memory never spoken of for fear of ruining the sanctity of it. Her child's insightfulness is always a source of surprise to Alex.

Karen is still looking at her, biting her lip. "Is everything okay between you two?"

"What are you talking about?" Alex asks, waving her away with a laugh. "Of course we're okay."

Karen eyes her curiously – the soft gaze of a friend who just wants to help. "Are you sure? Because you…you just seem different lately. Sad."

For one ridiculous moment, Alex wants to tell her everything. It would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone to tell her story to so that she knows even years down the road that it was real. Matt loving her isn't just an idea conjured in her own mind. It happened, and she's a better person for it. But she isn't going to unburden herself on the girl in front of her, all dressed up for a party

and wearing Salome's plastic bracelet. She's beautiful and young and Alex's problems are not hers.

"I'm fine," she says, smiling as genuinely as she can manage. "Just tired, I promise. I'm very happy for Matt and I'll see him and Daisy after they're home from their honeymoon."

Lies. All of it. She isn't fine, she isn't happy, and she plans on avoiding the newlyweds like they have the plague.

"Oh, Matt can't go on honeymoon yet," Karen points out. "Not till filming is over. He and Daisy are just going to Paris for two days instead. So you'll still see him at work on Monday."

Oh god, so soon?

Karen looks so pleased with this that Alex is forced to offer a weak smile. "Then I'll see him Monday."

Alex feels dread pool in her stomach. How can she possibly face him on Monday morning, after his romantic mini-honeymoon in Paris with his new wife? She can't – not yet. She thought she had more time. She isn't strong enough for this.

Karen returns Alex's smile, though hers seems entirely genuine. "I'm glad everything's all right, then."

"Everything's perfect," Alex replies.

Salome looks up then, with her neck ringed with plastic beads and princess crown falling into her eyes, and Alex feels like her daughter can see right through her.

Sitting around a circular table in a high-priced club, Matt tries to keep his drinking to a minimum. He is surrounded by family and friends that he's known for years, for months and even for hours. So many people congratulating him and raising their shot glasses. He is slowly losing the battle of staying as lightly drunk as possible, because with each congratulation (or 'Too bad, mate. Being

tied down sucks'), the urge to take another shot of whiskey is too strong to pass up.

So when he's dared to ask one of the girls in the club for their underwear, he doesn't think twice. He merely stands and stumbles over to the closest woman (he should have gone to one who was alone) and asks her if he could possibly have her knickers. She seems shocked at first, then disgusted, but the moment she recognizes who he is, she trips backwards into the wall she's standing next to as she attempts to lift her ridiculously high-heeled feet to remove her knickers. Her friends overhear the request and they begin following her example.

Soon, he's got an array of thongs, bikini style knickers and even a pair of boxers hanging limply in his hands, across his shoulders and in the crook of his arms. When he returns to the table where his mates are sitting, they laugh loudly, easily covering the booming music with their voices. He drops his collection on the table and says, slightly slurred, "Take your pick, gen'lemen."

The men war over which panties they wish to take (even the boxers get taken) and it's a disturbing sight. Men will be men, he supposes, as he plops down in his seat and takes a swig from his warm beer.

"Nervous?" Arthur asks from beside him, leaning back in his chair. Matt notices how the man doesn't take part in the war for knickers and he's slightly relaxed by it. At least someone has some dignity.

He swallows around the lump in his throat (he can't tell if it's there because he's slowly becoming sick from the alcohol or because he really, truly is nervous) and toys with the multiple shot glasses that are lined up in front of him.

"More than ev'r," he murmurs, glancing at the man who has been his best mate lately. Arthur nods, sipping his beer and eyeing the men that surround them.

"It'll be all right, mate," Arthur reassures, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

Matt doesn't respond for a while, stomach churning and heart clenching. It won't be all right. It will never be all right. One day, Daisy will realize that he doesn't really love her. One day, she'll see through his act and shatter from it, or kill him.

Or both.

All because he loves Alex enough to follow her stupid advice. Enough to ruin not only his own happiness, but someone else's too. Someone he's hurt in so many different ways and she doesn't even know that she's been betrayed.

"I love her," Matt speaks softly, and Arthur nods again.

"I know, mate."

"No, not-"

"I know, Matt," Arthur interrupts, shooting a warning look at Matt that clearly said, 'Say anymore and someone else will hear, idiot.'

Of course he knows. He's one of the most intuitive people Matt has ever met, and it's sometimes not a good thing. But in this drunken moment, it's a gift. Someone else knows what he's doing, understands his situation, and is still there for him.

"Wha' am I gunna do?" He asks, slumping in his chair. Arthur shrugs, looking down at his phone as a text comes in.

He answers as his fingers move deftly across the keyboard on his phone, voice calm, "The right thing, Matt. The right thing in your mind."

That's the most rubbish advice Matt has ever heard. The right thing in his mind? Doesn't Arthur understand that, at the moment, he doesn't even have a mind? The right thing could be anything. From leaving Daisy, to marrying Daisy. To going back to Alex (yeah, right), to running away from everything.

He doesn't know what the right thing is.

Frustrated, he tells Robert to order another round of shots, requests Seth to ask the DJ to change the song to something with a better beat and finishes off his neglected beer. When the shots come to the table, Matt raises his in toast.

"To throwin' your life away," he shouts, bringing the burning liquid to his mouth and gulping it

down. The men around him (aside from Arthur, who stares at him blankly) shout their agreement and follow his example, each having a different reaction to the liquor.

If Matt is going to spend his last night as an unmarried man wallowing about his lost love, he's going to do it properly – with lots of liquor and hopefully a blackout. If he's lucky, he'll have a pounding headache in the morning and will be able to play his sour mood off as just being hungover.

Because God knows he's going to have one hell of a day tomorrow, marrying Daisy Lowe and not Alex Kingston.

Never Alex Kingston.

He takes another shot.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks so much for your comments, guys! For this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. Chapter title comes from Judy Garland's The Man That Got Away.

They said speak now

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

She's in line at the local Tesco when she sees the wedding coverage she has been avoiding all week on the television behind the counter. She's dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, hair pulled back and stuffed into a baseball cap, hoping that if she keeps her head down, it will be enough to keep anyone from recognizing her. She wouldn't even be out in public at all today if it weren't for Salome, who had waited until the last day before her assignment was due to tell Alex that she needed to make a log cabin for history class out of popsicle sticks and send pictures to her teacher as proof that she completed the assignment.

For her, today is a day of mourning.

All Alex wants to do is curl up under the blankets on her bed and sob. But Salome isn't with her father this week, and she doesn't have time to fall apart. So instead, she stands in line at Tesco and watches behind dark sunglasses, tears in her eyes, as a reporter announces from outside a church – just blocks away – that Matt Smith of Doctor Who fame is about to exchange wedding vows with the beautiful Daisy Lowe.

Apparently, the bride had been stunning as she had been escorted into the church – luminescent and happy as bridesmaids trailed after her, lifting her train from the ground. As footage of Daisy ducking into the church flashes across the screen, Alex feels nothing but anger and resentment. Not toward Daisy, but herself. All of this is her fault.

No one has seen Matt come in yet – apparently the man can be late for even his own wedding. Alex takes a deep breath and looks away from the screen, closing her eyes against the tears blurring her vision. She only hopes this unreasonably long line moves along before Matt arrives; she doesn't think she can handle seeing his beautiful, ridiculous face without having some sort of emotional breakdown in the middle of the store.

God, how embarrassing.

She can imagine the evening news now.

'Alex Kingston cried hysterically over five boxes of popsicles in local Tesco today. Details at eleven.'

She has no one to blame but herself. He had wanted her – loved her, even. He'd wanted to be with her, to hold her and kiss her, to be the one to brave the London streets for Salome's popsicle sticks and whatever other silly school assignments she came home with. He had wanted everything. And she'd pushed him away – afraid of what other people might say, afraid of her own feelings, afraid of being hurt again. Everything about Matt and his love had scared the life out of her and she'd run away, hiding like a scared little girl because she wasn't prepared to handle something so wonderful.

Since the day she found out about his engagement, Alex has been doing her best to ignore Matt's impending nuptials, savagely pushing thoughts of it to the back her mind, promising to think about it later. It hurt too much to truly think about how close she was to losing him forever, so she didn't. But now, in the middle of Tesco and faced with wedding coverage, Alex can't run away from it anymore. She's going to lose him – she has lost him. He hasn't ever truly been hers, but now even that little piece of him she could claim for her own will be lost too today. He's going to marry Daisy, and he's going to have a fantastic career and be so happy and maybe one day, he'll have children who look just like him. He's going to be brilliant, and someday, what he had with her will be nothing but a faded memory of a past mistake.

Alex feels tears well in her eyes again and she casts her blurred gaze toward the television once more. She doesn't want to be his mistake, that stupid affair he had before he married his wife. It's her own fault, though, isn't it? She relegated herself to the part of 'past transgression' and Matt had done as she asked and moved on.

Oh god.

What has she done?

Why does she always fuck up everything in her life? A small voice in her head screams at her in sheer panic: 'Fix it! Hurry! Don't let him marry that girl! Fix it!' Part of her wants to listen to that voice – that selfish part of herself that wants to take over. She wants to drop the boxes in her hands and run out of Tesco, run as fast as her legs can carry her, not stopping until she reaches that church. She wants to burst through the doors and ask him not to do it – don't marry her, my Matt.

Don't ever love anybody else but me.

He would, if she asked. That's what makes everything hurt so much more. Matt loves her, she knows he does and if he thought she wouldn't reject him, there wouldn't be a power on this earth that could stop him from telling her every second of every day – in his own, uniquely Matt way. Somehow, the thought of that much love directed at her doesn't scare her the way it used to. The only truly frightening thought is losing that love – and she's going to. Soon.

But she made her choice and now she'll live with it. She won't bugger up Matt's life the way she so expertly does her own. It isn't his fault she isn't brave enough for both of them. She's only sorry she never told him how amazing he had been. She wishes she could thank him for making her happy for those few short months, for making her feel like she was finally enough for somebody.

On the television, she glimpses the back of Matt's head as he ducks into the church amid reporters and photographers, and she bites the inside of her cheek. Matt would never have been happy with her anyway. Maybe at first, but not forever. And Alex would never have been satisfied with anything other than spending the rest of her life with that wonderful idiot. She tells herself quite firmly that this really is for the best, and that small, panicked voice in her head quiets in miserable defeat.

Thankfully, the line begins to move once more and Alex doesn't have to look at the television anymore. She makes it back home just as a light rain begins to fall, and as she steps through the door and toes out of her boots, she thinks of that church in the middle of London proper, filled to the brim with people and her Matt standing at the altar, waiting for some other woman to walk down the aisle.

Alex shuts her eyes and sighs, clutching the bag of popsicles in a tightened fist. From the kitchen, she hears Salome chatting with Marie over the clatter of pans and she gathers herself quickly. She can cry later, when her daughter is safely tucked away in bed, when the log cabin is drying on the counter and Matt is on his way to Paris.

Matt frowns as he wakes up slightly disoriented on Arthur's couch. He honestly doesn't remember how he got here. The last thing he does remember is the six shots he did in a row.

Great idea.

Groaning, he sits up and rubs his temples. The headache he wished for definitely made its appearance, throbbing deep within the recesses of his mind. 'Bloody well worth it,' he thinks as he remembers what's on the agenda for the day.

His wedding.

He's marrying Daisy Lowe today, under orders of the woman he loves (not directly, but this is what she wanted him to do) and the thought makes his stomach churn. Or maybe it's the hangover. Pushing to his feet, he sways slightly, trying to remember where Arthur's bathroom is. He bites back the bile in his throat long enough to stoop in front of the toilet once he's there, emptying the contents of his stomach into the shining porcelain.

It feels good to get it out but the uneasiness from the impending wedding doesn't dissipate. He doesn't think it ever will.

After a few more dry heaves, Matt sinks into a sitting position against the wall, reaching forward to flush the toilet.

"Figured you'd be in here," Arthur says from the doorway, smiling slightly. He places a couple pills and a glass of water on the counter, stepping back out of the room with arms crossed over his chest. "Big day. I've got your tux laid out for you already, and your toiletries are under the sink."

Matt coughs, wincing at the taste of vomit. He mouths a 'thank you' to Arthur, who takes that as his leave. Standing and using the wall as support, Matt rinses his mouth out using the tap, before taking the pills. The cool water feels good on his sore throat and he closes his eyes, relishing in it. When he's finished the water, he takes a look at himself in the mirror and instantly regrets it.

He looks like hell. Dark bags mar his eyes and stubble clouds his chin. The thought of cleaning himself up makes him want to lie back down on the couch and sleep the rest of his life away. Especially when he doesn't even want to get married.

Not today. Not to Daisy.

Oh, God, he really doesn't. He doesn't want brown hair and brown eyes. He doesn't want to wake up wrapped around a too-thin body. He doesn't want to spend his life pining over another woman and wondering if his wife knows he doesn't love her.

He doesn't want to live a lie.

"Three hours 'til show time, Matt," Arthur calls from the living room.

Three hours until he makes the biggest mistake of his life.

He spends the next four going through the motions. Shaving his face, brushing his teeth. He can't remember what he's had for breakfast the moment he's finished it. He showers (five minutes, probably less) and Arthur helps him into his tux. He feels like a rag doll, with Arthur tugging on his reluctant limbs in an attempt to get the vest up his arms.

The flower is pinned to his jacket pocket when they've finished. The bowtie (he wanted at least that) is adjusted once, twice. He goes to the bathroom to fix his hair, brush his teeth again, and then Arthur is rushing him to the car.

He's an hour late.

An hour late for the wedding he shouldn't be having. That he doesn't want to be apart of. An hour late (he's always late for something, always) for the moment he signs his life away to a deserving-of-so-much-better woman he doesn't love.

'What the hell are you doing? This isn't the right thing. Don't be stupid, Matt. Listen to me for once.'

They pull up to the church (it's so big. Why is it so big?) and the press fly around the limo.

'To them, this is your day of happiness. For you, it's your day of shame. Stop.'

He adjusts his coat, straightens his posture. The door opens and he ducks out of the car, hand in front of his face and eyes downcast ('Smile for the cameras, Matt'). He follows Arthur's footsteps to the door.

His head spins from the sight of the high ceiling and the decorations set up. Everything is so intricate, so specific. He doesn't want to be here.

He can hear Daisy yelling at someone from down a hallway, and he stands there, at a loss. This is all way too much.

Arthur turns around when he notices Matt isn't following him anymore and backtracks. He says something Matt completely misses and shoves him toward the pews – toward the altar. Daisy's voice is fading and Matt is losing his mind.

All he wants is to bury his hands in curls and kiss experienced lips. He wants to love Alex and know she loves him too.

He can't remember his vows.

He can only remember green eyes and a curvy waist.

Arthur taps his shoulder, trying to get his attention. Matt ignores him in favor of more painful memories. The way her voice sounds when she's waking up. The way her heartbeat hastens when his lips press against hers. The way she clings to him like he's her lifeline. How could he forget all of this? How could he let himself lose all his memories of her? They're all he has left.

Oh, but he wants more.

The music plays.

His palms sweat.

He's getting married.

Chapter End Notes

Surprise chapter! Yaay! Thanks for the comments! Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. Chapter title from Taylor Swift's Speak Now.

Straight in a straight line

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

By the time Alex and Salome, with a lot of agitated supervising from Marie, have finished half of the log cabin, the light rain has turned into a downpour – raindrops pattering loudly against the roof and battering the windows. In the distance, thunder rumbles and Salome jumps before grinning at her own skittishness, socked feet slipping against the tile floor.

The doorbell buzzes loudly several times in a row – like a frantic knocking with a melody – and since Marie's hands are covered in Elmer's glue, Alex hurries to answer it. She's vaguely aware of Salome running up behind her before she swings the door open and suddenly, she can't breathe. She can't even hear the battering rain over the pounding of her own heart.

He shouldn't be here.

But he is.

Standing on her front stoop with his hair dripping into his face and his tuxedo soaked through, Matt stares at her like he never wants to look away again. Alex isn't sure she wants him to.

Salome nudges her from behind, and she finally manages to sputter out, "W-what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't do it," he says, watching her apprehensively.

"Do what?" She breathes, already knowing the answer.

Matt takes a step closer to her, dripping rainwater everywhere. He reaches out a hand, cold and wet, and lays it against her cheek. She closes her eyes as his thumb brushes her cheekbone tenderly. "Marry someone I didn't love, just because someone else broke my heart."

Eyes flying open, Alex stares at him, sudden tears making it hard to see. "I didn't want to," she says brokenly.

How ? How can he be here when she thought she'd lost him forever? What right does she have to such a wonderful second chance?

Matt turns soft eyes on Salome, smiling a little. "Could you give your mummy and I a minute, poppet? Just a quick one."

Salome nods, biting her lip and smiling shyly. She scurries off back toward the kitchen, probably to tell Marie that Matt Smith is leaking all over her newly cleaned foyer. Alex closes her eyes and leans into the doorframe, tears streaming down her face.

Leaning into her, Matt speaks gruffly, like he can barely keep his own emotions in check. "I'm done with this, Alex. Sod this idea you've gotten in your bloody head that I need anything else in my life but you and Salome. I just need you – everything else can go hang." He sighs raggedly. "I love you and I don't give a damn what other people think, what other men in your life were like. I'm not them, and I won't have you pushing me away and making us both miserable because of their mistakes."

Suddenly, she feels his lips against her tear-streaked cheek as he presses a light kiss there. "I don't want to be afraid anymore," she whispers, reaching out blindly to grip his jacket in her fist.

Matt puts his hands on her waist, pulling her into him, and she doesn't even care that he's soaking her too. He reaches a hand into her hair and she sighs at his touch. She has missed him so desperately – for the last six months they've been apart, his hands on her has been a near constant memory in the back of her mind. "I'm not going anywhere," he says. "Not unless you ask me to. And even then I'll put up a hell of a fight."

Alex laughs quietly, finally opening her eyes to see him smiling down at her. She reaches up a hand to touch his wet hair and frowns. "Did you run all the way here from the church?"

He nods, smirking a little as he presses his forehead to hers. "Oh, the things a man will do for love of Alex Kingston," he says lowly, and she laughs again, sliding her hands up his chest and lacing her fingers together behind his neck. "Swim the deepest ocean, climb the highest mountain, sprint across the greater London area in the pouring rain -"

"I love you too, you git, now if you don't shut up and kiss me - " Alex doesn't get to finish her sentence before he does exactly that, slanting his lips against hers and pulling her closer. He tastes like peppermint and rainwater, and Alex smiles into his mouth.

He pulls away much too soon, just long enough to whisper, "You have no bloody idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that. Most sodding difficult woman I've ever - " This time, he interrupts himself, as if realizing he's wasting precious time not kissing her. His fingers tighten on her hips and he presses her into the doorframe, opening his mouth against hers. She reaches a hand up to caress his face and he moans like she's inflicting on him the most delightful torture.

She grins, biting gently at his bottom lip as she remembers the first time she noticed what she did to him – sitting at the read-through and brushing his hand with hers by accident. He'd started out of his seat like she'd set him on fire.

They part briefly to breathe. Matt begins planting small kisses all over her face and grinning like his birthday has come early. "You smell like glue," he says, sounding intrigued.

Laughing, Alex reaches up on tiptoes to press her lips to his again. She hasn't kissed him in six months – that's a lot of time to make up for. "Popsicle log cabin," she whispers, watching his eyes light up.

"Can I -?" He looks hopeful.

She nods, and she can't seem to stop grinning. He's supposed to be getting married, but he's standing here in front of her like he doesn't want to be anywhere but in her kitchen with her and her daughter, getting covered in glue and making a mess. In that moment, she loves him so much she feels like she could burst with it. "You'll have to change out of those wet clothes first."

"Ooh," Matt shivers, leaning over her and gathering her into his arms. "You're trying to seduce me, aren't you, Miss Kingston?"

"Shut up," she says, tugging on the lapel of his tuxedo and pulling him inside.

When Alex has shoved him into a bathroom with some old clothes and a lengthy kiss, she wanders back into the kitchen with the brightest smile on her face. She can't seem to make herself stop.

She doesn't want to.

He's here. Not standing at the altar somewhere else. He's here.

Salome looks up from the messy project, flailing a bit in her seat and nearly knocking Marie backwards. The older woman pays her no mind, far too patient and used to Salome to be bothered.

"Where's Matty?" Salome asks, looking so distraught that Alex wants to go to her and hug her. "Did he leave again?"

Alex shakes her head, still smiling as she envelopes her daughter in a tight hug and presses a loud kiss to the top of her head. "He's changing into some dry clothes. And then he's going to help us build this bloody cabin of yours."

Salome bounces in her seat, beaming up at Alex. "He's not going away again like before, is he?"

Alex doesn't want to get into a long conversation with her daughter now, especially when she really doesn't know what's going on. She has so many questions and she and Matt have much to discuss. But for now, she just wants to enjoy the fact that he's in her home, kissing her again and looking at her like she's everything. The other stuff will work itself out.

"We'll see," is all she says.

Salome frowns at her, looking anxious. On the verge of telling her not to fret, Alex stops just before the words come out because Matt is standing in the doorway to the kitchen in a t-shirt and jersey shorts, his feet bare and his hair still damp. She smiles at him, positive she's beaming from ear to ear like a lovesick schoolgirl but unable to stop herself. He smiles back at her just as widely and before she knows it, he's crossing the room and standing over her, looking down into her eyes. His fingers brush against hers and she wants nothing more than to kiss him. She wants to wrap herself around him and never let go ever again.

But she can't.

As far as Salome is concerned, Matt is a friend and nothing more. Nothing can happen in front of her until she and Alex have had a little talk.

Matt is looking at her with such intensity that it sends shivers down her spine – he looks as though he's studying her, drinking her in like she might disappear before his very eyes. Pulling her fingers from his before she forgets herself, Alex blinks, turning away from him and clearing her throat.

Talking and other things are going to have to wait until Salome has gone to bed.

It's going to be a long night.

"Right," Matt says, clapping his hands together and turning to smile at Salome. "What do you need me to do, poppet?"

Salome's smile at his pet name is breathtaking, and Alex can't help but be reminded once again that Salome has missed her friend, just like Alex has missed her lover. Flicking her gaze to the mess she's making with Marie – who has studiously ignored the odd goings-on in the kitchen tonight – Salome sighs. "Everything, Matty. The sticks won't stay glued."

Matt laughs softly, ruffling her hair as he bends over the counter to inspect their work. "Well that's because you're doing it wrong, silly girl." He takes the glue bottle from Marie, who gladly hands it over and wipes her fingers on her apron. "Here, let me show you."

Alex stands at the counter and watches him with her daughter, smile never leaving her face as she counts down the minutes until Salome's bedtime.

XxX

Once Salome is put to bed and Alex and Matt are behind the closed door of her bedroom, he takes full advantage of his opening and begins attacking her with kisses. She reacts in turn, arms wrapping around his waist, fingers digging into his hips, his back, his shoulders. His tongue slips within her warm mouth and he groans, so softly, because this is what he's missed. But not just her kisses, or her body, but her.

Her fingers thread through his hair, but she's pulling his face from hers.

"Matt, wait," Alex protests, resting her forehead against his cheek. His chest tightens. He doesn't want to wait. He's been bloody well waiting long enough.

"Why?" He whines, hands flexing against her back. She chuckles breathlessly against his cheek, and he's missed it. Her sense of humor, her laugh. He's missed everything, so damned much.

"Because there will be time for that, after we talk," she murmurs as she kisses a line from his cheek down to his jaw. She's making it hard to focus with those familiar lips and he thinks talking can wait. But it shouldn't. He knows she has questions.

Sighing, he pulls away from her (but his hands don't leave her. No, they continue to touch her in all those places he remembers she likes. The dip in her back, for example. If he runs his fingers just right across that, she'll do this arch thing… yes, that) and looks at her fully. He's had all evening to reacquaint himself with her beauty, her shining happiness. Something he hadn't seen the entire time they were apart.

"Alright, let's get this conversation over with so I can ravish you," he says reluctantly, quirking his lips at the roll of the eyes he has missed.

He silently wonders if he should make a list of everything he's missed – never mind that it'd probably be the longest list ever written.

"You were supposed to get married tonight," she says quietly, eyeing him with a speculative gaze. His fingers twitch at the mention of his failed almost-nuptials and he tries his best to keep the grimace from his face.

"Yes," he confirms. The intensity of her gaze makes him squirm, but he doesn't move any further away from her. He couldn't even if he wanted to.

"But you didn't."

"No, I didn't."

"Why not?" Alex asks and this time her voice is strained. He can see the battle behind her eyes; happiness and pain warring it out within her mind.

"Because of you," he answers honestly. "I love you so much, Alex. I couldn't go through with something that didn't feel right."

And it took him almost going through with a marriage to realize what the right thing Arthur had been talking about was. It was this, right here.

"I just…I wanted you to be happy," she says. There are tears in her eyes and she's worrying her bottom lip so thoroughly that he thinks she might make it bleed.

"Baby," he soothes, rubbing his nose against hers softly. There's a pain in his chest from seeing her like this. They can never regain those six months apart; they can never change painful words exchanged or decisions made, but they can move on and look forward together – while loving each other. "What you didn't see is that I can't be happy without you. Never without you."

She lets out a broken sob and pulls his face towards hers. Talk obviously over – for now at least – he kisses her ardently. The way she clings to him makes his heart break and he never, ever wants to leave her again. He couldn't, even if she tried to make him. She wouldn't, though, would she? As their tongues slide together, he silently pleads with her to never push him away again. Her shaking hands run up underneath his shirt, the cool of her palms against his heated skin making him shiver.

They break apart for air and he's tugging her shirt off. He needs to feel her skin against his. She follows his lead, lifting her arms into the air and allowing her tank top to be yanked from her body. She's reaching for his shirt the moment hers is free of her hair, and he mimics her actions.

In the moment between kisses and tugging at clothes, Matt feels the need to voice his concern.

"Don't leave me," he gasps into her neck, where he's placing kiss after kiss. His hands reach up her back, unclipping the bra (he tries not to notice, but it's the same bra from that day in the hotel) and sliding it from her shoulders. "Don't ever leave me again, please."

She's shaking her head, moaning softly when her breasts press into the hardness of his chest. He can feel her tears against his temple and he holds her tighter to him. They stand near the edge of the bed, actions slowed by the impact of what is transpiring. They are together again. Him and her.

"I couldn't leave you again," she manages to whisper in his ear, fingers coasting down his naked back. "I wouldn't survive it."

"I love you," he says softly, voice breaking. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you, too," she says, and her breath is even now. She's regained control of herself and she pulls away, looking at his face. Hearing her say those words for the second time causes his heart

to skip a beat and his blood to race.

With a giant lump in his throat, he kisses her already swollen lips, pulling at her hips. Between soft licks and nips, he asks, "Can I make love to you now?"

She nods, and that's exactly what they do.

Together, they shed the remainder of their clothing, slowly and gently. She's naked first, and he's immediately attracted to her stomach. She chastises him when he drops to his knees before her, kissing her stomach with reverence. This can wait, she says. She needs him now.

He's reluctant to oblige, but she's pulling him up by the hair and removing his trousers as quickly as she can. When they both stand together, flesh up on flesh, she guides him back onto the bed, pulling him down above her.

Their movements are unhurried, hands caressing and dipping in at just the right places as promises of love are exchanged. Promises that are going to be carried out, because both realize now just how much they need the other in their lives.

When Matt dips his finger between her thighs, whispering the words "I love you" over and over again in her ear in time with his strokes against her clit, she comes violently. The force of it causes her body to go rigid beneath his and her face to contort in beautiful agony. He drops kisses on her closed eyelids, sweeping down to kiss her gasping mouth.

"Need you now," she commands against his lips, reaching between them to take a hold of his erect cock. He groans, the feel of her hand on him again almost enough to send him over the edge right there. He lets her guide him inside and her warmth wrapped all around him is like a shock.

He rocks against her, sending him all the way inside, and the noise she makes is beautiful. She's clutching at his shoulders as he begins a slow rhythm. He pulls back and slides in again, slowly, over and over.

"Never thought I'd have this again," he whispers next to her ear, sucking on the spot just below it. Her curls tickle his nose (curls, curls) and she whimpers as his abdomen strikes her clit with each thrust. "Love you…"

"Ugnn, love you too," she gasps, arching her hips. "Faster, please."

He listens to her demand, thrusting faster, hurriedly. He entwines his fingers with hers, pinning her hand above her head as he leans in to kiss her. Her thighs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his arse. Their tongues mingle and moans are swallowed.

Her walls clench deliciously around him, tighter and tighter, before calming and reacting the same way. He uses his free hand to reach between them and work her clit again. Pulling his face from hers, he watches as she falls apart beneath him (it's her, it's Alex) and realizes he's crying. A tear falls on her cheek, but she's too far gone to realize and he's too far gone to care.

She breaks around him with his name spilling from her lips and her hand tightening around his. His knuckles ache from the force of her grip, but he's so close. His balls tighten, and she caresses his face mindlessly.

"Matt…Love you, never letting you go again," she murmurs, eyes half closed. The words are enough to send him over the edge and he spills within her.

The next few minutes are spent in silence, no sound but that of their breathing returning to normal. Their hands are still wrapped around each other, gentle caresses of his thumb across the back of her hand the only thing keeping him awake right now.

"Stay? Just for a while?" Alex asks quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. She sounds frightened of his answer and he chuckles softly.

"Do you even have to ask?" He inquires, rolling off her body, only to pull her into his side when he's on his back.

"I suppose not," she laughs breathlessly. "I don't want you to have to leave at all, though."

"Me neither, love," he sighs. But they both know he can't be here in the morning. She has Salome to talk to and he has an ex-fiancée to face. "Sleep for a bit, will you? I'll wake you up."

"Mm, okay," she agrees, scooting closer to him and sighing.

"I love you, Alex," Matt says as he places a kiss to her forehead. He smiles when she mutters

something incoherent (he assumes it's an 'I love you too'), but his smile fades when he thinks about what he has to deal with in the morning.

He hadn't given Daisy much of an explanation when he left the church. He hadn't given anyone an explanation. He'd been standing next to the priest at the altar and suddenly he knew he couldn't do it.

He'd made a quick dash for the bridal room, and when he opened the door, Daisy seemed to know immediately what was going on (not specifically, of course)…and her face. Oh, the look of utter heartbreak on her face had made his chest constrict.

"You're off, then?" She'd asked, eyes already filling with tears. He'd nodded, biting his lip.

"I can't, Daisy. I-I.. this isn't right."

"I'm going to pretend to understand what you're saying. And give you five seconds to get out of my sight before I punch your face in."

He hadn't needed much else before he was sprinting from the church, away from the press and into the rain.

Into the arms of the woman he loves.

And who, wouldn't you know it, loves him too.

Tomorrow is going to be a pain in the arse and he deserves whatever Daisy throws at him – metaphorically or literally, he thinks.

Right now, though?

He is going to take full advantage of the naked love of his life at least one more time before he heads home.

They deserve at least that much after everything they've gone through.

Chapter End Notes

Remember how you all thought we'd let Matt marry Daisy. I bet you feel pretty silly right now. LOL Happy Valentine's Day, darlings!

I wrote from Alex's point of view and Britney wrote from Matt's. Chapter title from OneRepublic's All This Time.

The war is over and we are beginning

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Matt didn't leave until the wee hours of the morning, slipping from her bed and dressing in the dark. He'd left her with one last kiss before slipping from the house and going home. It had been best that he leave before anyone discovered where he'd vanished. The press had gone wild when they'd realized Matt had walked out on his own wedding, and there had been pandemonium the likes of which London had never seen when they'd realized he'd stolen out of the church in the pouring rain and sneaked right past them. No one has seen him, almost like he'd disappeared into thin air, and no one had thought to check Alex's unassuming townhouse. They'd hidden out through the night – first in the kitchen with a popsicle stick log cabin and then beneath the sheets in Alex's bed, exchanging kisses and body heat.

Alex wakes up to an empty bed hours after Matt leaves, but she smiles into her pillow and for the first time in months, she feels optimistic about the beginning of a new day. It's not another day to get through, another day in which she ignores her own feelings and tries to forget. It's a day in which to love, and to laugh, and just be grateful that she'd opened her eyes to her bedroom ceiling. And it's always been that sort of day all along; she'd just lost sight of that without him.

She'd lost sight of a lot of things.

Matt had held her through the night and it had taken a long time to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming of his arm around her waist, or his breath tickling the back of her neck. She didn't think she would ever get to feel him wrapped around her again and to know that she had been wrong, that there are so many more nights of being held by him ahead of her – it makes her beam up at the ceiling.

He loves her, and he's not going anywhere.

Alex stretches languidly, snuggling further into her blankets and sighing. From down the hall, she hears the distinct sounds of Salome waking up to the world – the muffled thump of her stumbling out of bed, the creaking of her bedroom door, and the shuffle of bare feet stuffed into fluffy slippers as she makes her way to the loo.

Salome had been quiet yesterday, not questioning Matt's sudden reappearance in their lives. She had been just as happy as Alex to have him back, being his ridiculous self in their kitchen. But now, in the light of the morning, Alex knows they're going to have to talk. It's time to be honest with her daughter.

Pulling herself out of bed, Alex reaches for her dressing gown and slips into it before padding to the kitchen. If honesty is on the menu this morning, then so are pancakes. The American kind too

– Salome's favorite.

Salome wanders sleepily into the kitchen a few minutes later and smiles at the sight of pancake batter and Alex accidentally covering the counter with flour. "Can we have chocolate chips too?"

"They're in the cupboard," Alex says, nodding her head toward the right one and frowning at the mixing bowl. Why must pancakes be so messy?

Salome practically skips over to the cupboard and stands on her tiptoes to reach the chocolate chips. She drags a stool over to where Alex stands and clambers onto it to pour chocolate into the bowl.

"Not too many," Alex chides, scooting the bowl away from her with a laugh. "I'd like some pancakes with my chocolate, thank you."

Salome huffs good -naturedly and digs a hand into the bag, popping some into her mouth and chomping happily. "Why are you making pancakes?"

"Because you like them," Alex says simply. "Do I need a reason?"

Shrugging, Salome swallows her mouthful of chocolate, and Alex swipes the bag from her before she can dive in for seconds. "If it's not a special day, we usually have cereal or toast. Is today special?"

"Kind of," Alex hedges, silently berating herself for thinking Salome wouldn't see right through her. She should have learned by now – Salome knows much more than she lets on.

"Is it because you're happy Matty is our friend again?" Salome looks up at her with innocent, wide brown eyes.

Alex looks away and concentrates on mixing pancake batter so her daughter doesn't see the tears well in her eyes. "Yes, love," she says, staring at the chocolate chips in the batter through blurry vision. "That's exactly why."

"I'm happy too." Salome sneaks a hand into the batter and Alex gently slaps it away, taking the bowl with her to the stove. "I missed him. He's not going to go away again, is he?"

Smiling a little as she begins pouring batter onto the frying pan, Alex says, "No, I don't think he is."

When the pancakes are done, fluffy, stacked, and dripping with syrup on their plates, and tall glasses of milk next to them, Alex and Salome sit at the counter and swing their dangling legs. Salome puts entirely too much butter on her pancakes but Alex says nothing, choosing to watch her instead. "I want to talk to you about something," she says. "About Matty. Me and Matty, actually."

Salome immediately stops slathering butter on her pancakes, attention fully on her mother. "Are we going to talk about how sad you've been now?"

Never in her life has Alex felt more inadequate – at being a mother, at being a decent human being, or even at using words. Salome is entirely too intuitive for such a young girl, and the way she always manages to see right through Alex and her carefully crafted fictions has never failed in making her feel like the smallest speck in all the universe. Alex always thinks she's doing such a good job of hiding everything and she always finds out later that Salome had never been fooled for a minute. Her daughter is ten going on thirty.

Pushing away her half-eaten pancakes – her stomach has rebelled against what little she has managed to eat – Alex forces down the bite in her mouth and searches for the right thing to say. Nothing comes to mind. "Well," she finally says, "I suppose we are…"

Salome stabs at a lone chocolate chip with her fork and says nothing.

Alex watches her silently for a moment before reaching out and running a hand over Salome's tangled curls. "What are you thinking, darling? Is there something you'd like to ask me?"

Salome nods.

"Well, go on then," Alex says. "I took an honesty pill this morning. No lying or my nose grows." She pinches Salome's side playfully, smiling when her daughter squirms away with a muffled giggle. "This is the perfect chance to ask me anything. Want to know what you're getting for your

birthday?"

Salome looks up at her ruefully. "There's no such thing as an honesty pill."

"Is too!" Alex says, putting on a look of affront. "Try me. Ask anything."

Biting her lip, Salome watches her closely. "Was Matty the reason you were sad?"

And there it is. The question she'd been dreading. Salome doesn't beat around the bush.

Alex had thought she'd done a pretty good job of acting like everything was just peachy these last six months, but apparently, those who know her best haven't been fooled. Perhaps she should rethink this acting thing. Blowing out an unsteady breath through pursed lips, Alex wipes a drop of syrup away from the corner of Salome's mouth and does the only thing she can. She answers honestly.

"In a way. It was my fault, really. I was sad because I loved Matty very much and I didn't want to be away from him."

Her voice is a little weak even to her own ears, and she's not quite sure she'll be able to get through this whole conversation without the appearance of tears, but she's going to try her damnedest. Salome has seen her cry enough.

Salome's follow-up question is immediate. "Why were you away from him?"

"I thought it was better that Matty spend time with Daisy and be with somebody his own age," she says.

Frowning down at her plate, Salome says, "That doesn't matter. Jeffrey at school likes to play with me and he's two whole grades younger than I am."

Alex laughs softly, smoothing Salome's hair away from her face. "Yes, I suppose he is."

"Did Matty marry Daisy?"

Swallowing, Alex shakes her head. "No, love, he didn't."

"Why?"

"Perhaps you should ask him."

Salome swipes a finger over the rim of her glass of milk. "I think it's because he wants to marry you instead."

Heart in her throat, Alex asks, "You think?"

Salome nods. "He's always looking at you…kind of like how Prince Charming looks at Cinderella."

Alex snorts into her coffee at the comparison – currently Salome's favorite movie. "Are you implying that Matt is Prince Charming?"

Shrugging, Salome mumbles around a mouthful of milk, "He looks like him. 'Specially the hair."

Alex laughs. "I'm sure he'll be amused to hear that."

"So…you love Matty?" Salome asks, squinting up at her.

Alex nods. "I do."

"Not like you love Arthur or Karen, though? You mean like how River loves the Doctor? With kissing and stuff?"

Smiling but forcing herself not to laugh, Alex says, "Yes, quite like that…Does it bother you?"

"No," Salome says, turning her attention back to her plate. "As long as you don't kiss in front of me."

"I'll be sure to mention it to him," she promises.

And just like that, it's over.

Heart still pounding, Alex watches her daughter go back to her breakfast, humming under her breath as she swings her legs. Alex wants to laugh. She has been so worried about what Salome might say, but her daughter doesn't seem to mind at all. As long as the kissing is kept to a minimum and marriage is on the cards, Salome is all for it.

As Alex begins to clean up the mess in the kitchen, Salome slides off her bar stool and scurries up behind her, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. Just as quickly, she's off again, running into the living room and turning on the television.

Smiling widely down at the soapy dishcloth in her hand, Alex decides that once the counter is spotless, she's going to call Matt. Because she can, and because his voice in her ear is quickly becoming the only thought in her head, but mostly because Matt makes her happy. And Salome wants her to be happy, even if it means her mother is snogging Salome's very favorite grown-up.

Matt can't help but be wracked with guilt as he watches Daisy drive away from his home for the last time. Sitting in the driver's seat, her mother glares at him until it's highly necessary for her to look at the road in front of her.

Instead being on her honeymoon, Daisy had spent the day after her wedding day having her family help her remove all of her things from his place. Every piece of her is gone, every piece of make-up, every article of clothing. The inside of his home looks completely bare; he hadn't realized how much of the stuff was hers.

But alongside the guilt, he feels relief.

With much nagging on her mother's part, they had talked (more like she shouted and he tried to

calmly explain everything). It hadn't been very amiable. He knew not to expect that from her - not when he walked out on her on their wedding day. Not when he had to tell her that he's been cheating on her.

He shudders, rocking on his heels. He had come home and literally walked into her throwing things at his face. He could probably make a list of different household items that had smacked him in the forehead in the first minute he was home.

But he won't.

He had done what he needed to and that's enough. He had told her the truth.

"You deserve to know," he'd said. "I've been seeing someone else for a while now."

Daisy had asked who this woman was, and he'd told her.

There hadn't been much talking after that.

A lot of punching, though, and more throwing.

But no tears, either.

Sighing, Matt backtracks into his empty home. At least the worst is over. She knows everything and if she wants to talk calmly later, he's more than willing.

Plopping down on his couch, he breathes deeply and rubs at his still-sore forehead. The television is gone (he's going to have to get his back out of storage), so he settles for searching his pockets for his mobile. When in doubt, call Alex.

The phone rings for a bit longer than he expects, but he doesn't have to listen to the droning tone for long.

"Can't stay away, can you?" Alex answers, sounding extremely chipper and very content.

"You know me – glutton for your beautiful voice." He tries to sound less exhausted than he feels. He doesn't want to ruin her glorious good mood. Of course, she knows him better than that.

"What's wrong, love?"

"Daisy just left," he begins, standing to pace the empty space where the coffee table used to be. "I told her everything and she took it well enough. I mean, if throwing things at my head is a good thing. She didn't cry, though. I was expecting tears. Is that incredibly conceited of me?"

Alex is quiet on the other line for a moment, and he wonders what she's thinking. Is she thinking this was a bad idea? Does she regret any of it? Does she feel blame for-

"At least you told her at all," she says, but her voice doesn't sound any less chipper. "I think anger is a good outlet for some people. Your head must be in terrible pain, though."

He laughs, wholeheartedly, and silently marvels at how she can be so amazing even now. How blessed is he to have her all to himself?

"I've had worse," he tells her honestly, and for a moment they're both quiet, no doubt remembering the shocking image of his hand breaking through the wood of a door. He clears his throat and continues, "Did you talk to Salome this morning?"

"Oh, yes," Alex says, sounding even happier if possible. "She didn't seem surprised at all. She actually seemed…relieved? Happy, I'd say."

"Precious girl, she is," Matt smiles hugely. The feeling of overwhelming joy spreads from his head to his toes and all memories of the past three hours are quickly wiped from his mind. His poppet is happy he and Alex are together, that they love each other.

She's happy.

"Don't go getting too excited, there, Mister," Alex interrupts, obviously knowing him far too well. "About a half hour after I told her, she demanded to ask you a few questions herself. I, being the lovely mother I am, couldn't say no."

"That's positively frightening," Matt says, and he's not lying. The idea of Salome asking him questions about his relationship with her mother? A shudder lances through his body and he almost misses Alex's laugh.

"She compared us to Prince Charming and Cinderella," Alex giggles, completely sidestepping his claim of fear.

"Right of her, too. You're definitely my princess," Matt says suggestively, plopping back down on his couch. He grins at her gasp, proud of his ability to take her off guard like that.

"When are you coming back?" She asks, voice breathless and soft. He licks his lips, glancing around his home and at the clock – at least Daisy hadn't taken that too.

"Now, if you'd like. Nothing's keeping me here."

"You have an hour to get here," she demands. "Salome requested Marie's audience at the park this afternoon, said she needed help with something or other."

"On my way," he says quickly, hopping up to gather his keys and wallet. "Hey, Alex?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"Silly man. I love you, too."

When the phone line goes dead, he's halfway out the door and smiling like a madman. He loves hearing her happy.

Oh, he loves her.

He didn't think he'd ever be at this point with her. He didn't even think he'd be with her again. But hearing her say those words? Those three little words – that on their own mean nothing – directed towards him?

It makes his skin tighten and his heart race. It makes him smile and want to cry. She bloody loves him.

He knew that before, of course. He knew she loved him.

But this is better than anything he'd ever imagined. The real feeling of having her voice it so clearly, to him.

He's sorry for Daisy, guilty as fuck for it too, but Alex makes it better. She is his reason for living now, and he can't bring himself to regret anything.

Chapter End Notes

You guys and your reviews are so fabulous - we love you! For this chapter, Brinney wrote from Matt's point of view and I wrote from Alex's. Chapter title comes from In Our Bedroom After The War by Stars. Thanks to Trialia for the beta!

I'm yours and suddenly you're mine

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Matt sits on the couch in Alex's living room, staring down his tormentor. She sits on the floor, legs criss-crossed beneath her, staring at him with a determination that scares the wits out of him.

"You're dating my mom," Salome states, mouth in a firm line. He furrows his brow, wondering how exactly he should handle such a statement. She waits quietly for his confirmation and his nerves become more frayed, if possible.

"Yes," he says tentatively and then purses his lips. This wouldn't be so terribly frightening if Alex hadn't told her daughter that the reason she'd been upset for those long six months had been because she couldn't be with him. Now, Salome has this notion that he has questionable intentions and she'd decided the only thing to do was to talk to him herself.

"And you love her," she states again. It's almost as if she's reading off a checklist - Matt wouldn't put it past her to have created one beforehand.

"Yes," he agrees again, leaning forward on his knees and resting his chin against his knuckles.

"And you missed her as much as she missed you?" This time it's a question, as if Salome is unsure of what his response will be. Slipping from the couch to sit in front of her on the floor, he leans in towards her, face softening.

"I probably missed her a heck of a lot more than she missed me, poppet," he murmurs, offering the ten year old a smile. She slowly loses the stern expression, a small smile working its way across her face

"Did you miss me, Matty?" She asks, biting her lip. She hasn't moved, though he's gotten to the point that if he leans over anymore, he'd probably fall flat on his face in the middle of the living room. A loud laugh leaves him and he quickly smothers it, noting the unamused look she's giving him.

"So bloody much, kiddo. So much it burned like the fires of Hell," he grins, and her answering smile blows him away. She leaps at him, wrapping her arms around his neck entirely too tight, telling him that he can never, ever leave them again.

"Language, Matt," Alex chastises from doorway, eyebrow arched. Her smirk betrays her tone and he offers her a lopsided grin. He hefts himself and Salome up, holding her to him as if she's a toddler more than the young girl she is. She clings to him, obviously unwilling to let go anytime soon.

"Sorry, love, but it was an honest answer," Matt chuckles, ruffling Salome's hair as he advances on his girlfriend. He kisses her softly, smiling when she returns it. Salome pushes at his face, giggling.

"None of that while I'm right here!"

Matt lingers for another moment, loving the free-easy feel of not having to hide his love for Salome's mother in front of her anymore. It's such a different experience after having to hide it from everyone. Now, he can kiss Alex in front of two people if he counts Arthur – that's a whole lot more than the zero it used to be.

After a moment, Alex shoves at his chest and he backs off, watching the smile on her face widen. It sends warmth up his spine to know he put that smile there. He's the one who has made her that happy.

"All right, princess," Alex says, bopping her daughter's nose lightly. She sends Matt a look, clearly saying that Salome doesn't need to be carried, before continuing, "you remember the rules, yes?"

"Mhm, course I do. Rule one, I cannot tell anyone. That is the most important rule above all of the rules. If rule one is breached, we may very well get stuck between a…a…hard rock and a stone place? Matty, did I get that right?" Salome scrunches up her nose questioningly.

Alex looks at Matt with a raised eyebrow. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head. "It's a rock and a hard place, poppet. But close enough. Continue."

"Rule two, I am not allowed to walk around in my underwear anymore. Rule three, Matty is not allowed to walk around in his underwear either. Wait, mom, why can you walk around in your underwear?"

Realizing this conversation is going to have far more questions than answers, Matt spins Salome

around, looking for her paint set. When he doesn't see it, he looks down at the confused girl in his arms. "Where's your set, sweet?"

Salome's eyes light up as she suddenly remembers something, and she wiggles from his grasp, only to tug him down the hallway by the wrist. He looks back at Alex, who seems equally as surprised. They follow the young girl into her bedroom, where she makes them wait as she digs through her closet.

A few minutes later, she tugs a stack of canvases out, looking through each one with a critical eye. When she finally finds the one she wants – one of the biggest canvases – she turns back to them with a huge, breathtaking smile.

"I used the rest of my paints to finish this picture. I forgot to ask mom for more." As she speaks, she hands the canvas over to Matt, who has his arm stretched out to take it. He looks down at the painting in awe, eyes widening and his breath catching.

It's a very well done portrait – for a ten-year-old – of the three of them. He can distinctly see what is supposed to be him holding Alex's hand as they sit on a picnic blanket and watch a very detailed Salome fly a kite. When he looks over to Alex; she has tears in her eyes but her smile is beautiful.

"Salome, it's…" Alex begins, looking toward her daughter. She laughs in that moment, sweeping Salome into a hug. "You're bloody brilliant, you are. So talented."

"Ooomf! Mom, it's no big deal, really. I just remember Matty talking about a picnic one day and…"

"We are going on that picnic, poppet," Matt cuts in, smiling as he places the canvas off to the side. He joins in on the hug, wrapping his arms around both of his favorite ladies. He places a kiss to Salome's forehead and one to Alex's lips while Salome looks away.

"You better," Alex says with a smile when he pulls back.

"Yeah, Matty, you better," Salome agrees, slapping his arm lightly.

He smiles and squeezes them tighter.

His family.

She stands in her bathroom, dressing gown open as she takes in her appearance. She looks old. There are laugh lines around her mouth, crow's feet at her eyes. She wants to ask him why he wants her - wants this.

Alex is nearly fifty years old, and Matt looks at her like she's a twenty-something looker with no baggage.

She just doesn't understand.

Strong arms wrap around her midsection and she watches in the reflection of the mirror as he draws circles on her naked stomach. His chin rests on her shoulder and he offers her a lazy smile.

"Whatcha doin'?" He asks, turning his face into her hair and breathing deeply.

"Thinking about how old I am," she answers honestly, placing her small hands over his on her stomach. He scoffs in her ear and she thinks she should be offended, but she's not. He's standing half-naked in her bathroom with his arms wrapped around her, not his…ex-fiancé-almost-wife. God, the thought is baffling.

"You're not old," he murmurs, eyes meeting hers in the mirror. He pushes her against the sink, hands moving out from underneath hers as he traces her sides, breasts and neck, pulling her hair back. He nibbles on her earlobe as he pushes the open robe from her shoulders. A gasp leaves her mouth as her skin flushes, body reacting as easily as it had the first time. But this isn't about sex or gratification. "You need to see yourself as I see you, pet."

"And how's that?" She whispers, tilting her head back against his shoulder, their eyes never breaking contact in the glass. His eyes flash and he takes her hands, moving them across her body.

"As a beautiful, vibrant, young goddess," he smiles softly. Her heart melts and she breaks their locked gaze, following their combined hands across her nude form. It's simple, the way their fingers leave faint white marks in their wake, moving up and down the front of her body. He trails

her fingers across her thighs, whispering, "I have never seen anyone more gorgeous than you."

In that moment, she feels beautiful. She feels young and alive and so very, very loved, it almost hurts.

She rips her hands from his as she turns to press her body against him, pulling his face down for a rough kiss. Their tongues battle but it's a quick win for her as he backs down, letting himself be shoved against the bathroom wall. When she pulls back, she smiles breathlessly at him, eyes sparkling.

"I love you, you know that?" She says, and it's brilliant to be able to say it, over and over. Three words, repeated in the past week over a thousand times and it's never going to get old.

"Oh, love," he grins, kissing her nose, "I've known it from the beginning."

It's the best start to a morning she has ever had.

Kissing Matt is a bit like indulging in her favorite wine. In small doses, it just makes her cheeks a little more flushed and her smile wider. It might even make her giggle. In excess, however, the effects are dangerous. There are numerous possibilities for embarrassing herself and quite possibly winding up naked and unable to remember her own name. Now, lying among the blankets and pillows on the bed in Matt's trailer with him hovering over her, kissing her positively tipsy, Alex finds it difficult to remember why undressing him right now would be a bad idea. At the moment, it sounds rather wonderful.

Moaning softly as he nips at her bottom lip, Alex clutches the fabric of his tweed jacket in one hand and grips one of his braces in the other fist. One hand wrapped in her hair and fingers of the other sneaking steadily beneath her top, Matt finally pulls away from her red and swollen lips to trail his mouth across her jaw. Alex lifts her leg, snaking it around one of his and shifting her hips.

Groaning into her ear, Matt tightens his grip on her hair. "Alex," he says, and she pants breathlessly into his neck.

"Mm?"

He doesn't respond, covering her mouth with his once more, his kiss less languid and more urgent now. Alex lifts her hips into him again, whining wordlessly into his mouth. Growling softly, Matt's hand slips from beneath her top and slides down her thigh to the edge of her skirt.

Oh yes. Please.

His long fingers trail up the inside of her thigh and Alex tosses her head back, panting up at the ceiling. His fingers hook into the top of her knickers and just as he begins to tug them down her hips, someone clears their throat pointedly.

They both freeze, staring at each other in horror.

"You should really lock the door, you know," comes a voice from the doorway. "Anyone could walk in."

At the sound of Arthur's voice, Matt rolls his eyes but Alex gasps, scrambling out from underneath him to tug down her skirt and adjust her top. She feels horribly rumpled and quite like her father has caught her with a boy in her room. In a way, she supposes he has.

Matt is a little slower to react, sitting up lazily. He doesn't bother adjusting the collar of his coat or running a hand through his disheveled hair. He stares at Arthur, who leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised. "Don't you knock?"

While Arthur shrugs, Alex turns to look at Matt incredulously. Arthur has just walked in on them practically mating in Matt's trailer and all he can say is 'don't you knock? ' He smiles reassuringly at her but she looks at Arthur again, and her voice trembles as she tries to explain their situation away. "Look Arthur, I know this looks really bad but it's not - "

Matt places a warm, gentle hand over her shaking ones and she looks at him, all bemusement. "It's alright, love. He sort of…knows."

Alex gapes. "What?" She glances quickly between Arthur and Matt, frowning. "What do you mean he sort of knows?"

"He found us out a while ago," Matt says, shrugging.

"And you didn't think to mention it to me?" She snaps, disbelieving. How could he have kept something as huge as one of their friends discovering their secret from her?

Matt rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, his expression pained. "I found out he knew when we were…apart."

Alex swallows, watching him avoid her gaze. Those six months away from each other is a topic they try not to bring up. They've only talked about it once – tearful and wrapped around each other one night – and now they just want to live for what they have now. They don't want to dwell on those precious months they wasted. Inching closer to him on the bed, Alex turns over her hand beneath his, lacing their fingers together.

Smiling a little, Matt squeezes her hand, looking at her through his hair. "Forgot to tell you after everything was all better," he says, and his smile turns mischievous. "I was a bit distracted."

Laughing softly, Alex kisses his cheek. "You weren't the only one."

"Still here," Arthur says from the doorway, and Alex starts away from Matt out of sheer habit. It's strange, having someone else know. "Seriously, lock the door next time. What if I had been Steven or God forbid, Karen?"

Matt winces. "Right. Sorry."

"So…you're okay with this?" Alex asks. "You're not angry? You don't think it's wrong?"

"It was wrong when Matt was still with Daisy," Arthur says, looking up from studying his shoes to meet her eyes. "It's not wrong now. And I was never angry."

Matt's thumb sweeps gently across her knuckles and Alex almost leans her head against his shoulder before she realizes something important. "Hang on," she says, holding up a hand. "You said he found us out. Does that mean you didn't tell him?"

"Of course not," Matt says, scowling.

Alex looks at Arthur curiously. "Then how did you find out?"

Suddenly looking very uncomfortable, Arthur turns his eyes to his shoes once more, like they've suddenly become endlessly fascinating. "Erm," he says fumblingly. "I sort of uh…Well, I had my suspicions for a while, just from watching you flirt shamelessly. But I didn't really know for sure until…you know that night we were all at the pub and I had that chugging contest with Dave and you two had that staring contest?"

Matt and Alex glance warily at each other before nodding.

"Well, I happened to drop my mobile under the table and spotted your foot in Matt's lap," he says, still not looking at them. His cheeks are a little red. "And then when you both disappeared and came back all rumpled, I figured I was right about you two."

"Oh my god," Alex wails, turning her face into Matt's shoulder. He puts his arm around her and pats her back comfortingly.

As horrifying as it is that Arthur has known all along, she can't help but think back on the last year. Some of Arthur's comments or glances suddenly hold new meaning. She remembers him sometimes hugging her a little too tightly during her long separation from Matt, and she'd wondered then how he was always so good at knowing when she needed a little extra affection. Now, so many things make more sense.

Lifting her head, Alex looks at Arthur with trepidation. She's afraid to even ask, but she has to know. "Who else have you told?"

At that, Arthur looks up from his shoes, gaze piercing. "I haven't told anyone, Alex. I promise."

"You mean you've known since practically the start and you never said a word to anyone?"

He shakes his head, looking sheepish.

Sudden tears in her eyes, Alex stands from the bed and crosses the room to where Arthur stands, arms still folded defensively over his chest. She throws her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. His arms come around her instantly, enveloping her in a tight hug. "Thank you,

dad," she says, and he presses a stubbly kiss to her cheek.

"What are families for?" He laughs softly, rubbing her back.

Coming up behind her, Matt places one hand on Alex's hip and uses the other to ruffle Arthur's hair affectionately. "Can I get in on this family hug? I'm feeling a bit left out."

Alex reaches out a hand and tugs him close and Matt laughs, wrapping his arm around her waist. Suddenly very close to Arthur's face, Matt beams and waggles his fingers at him.

Grinning, Arthur greets, "Son-in-law."

"Ooh," Matt says as Alex finally pulls away after one last fond kiss to Arthur's cheek. "Quite like the sound of that. Do I get to call you and Kaz dad and mum now?"

"Maybe," Arthur says, considering. "If you go make me some coffee."

With Karen filming a scene by herself for the moment, the three of them wind up at a picnic table under a tree on the lot, cups of coffee in hand. The air is cold and Alex resists the urge to lean into Matt for warmth.

"So what now?" Arthur asks, hands wrapped around his coffee cup. "I mean, what's the plan? You can't go on hiding forever."

"We don't plan to," Matt says, glancing at Alex with a small smile. "We're just waiting for the right time."

"It's only been a week since the wedding," Alex says, looking down into her coffee cup and watching the steam rise up to meet her.

"Almost-wedding," Matt corrects, and his hand squeezes her knee affectionately under the table.

"Almost-wedding," she agrees, smiling. "It just doesn't seem appropriate to announce anything

yet. Maybe in a few months."

Arthur scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and Alex wonders if he's noticed Matt's hand sliding up from her knee to rest on her thigh. They really should be more careful in public, but the giddiness of just being together again is a heady rush – a high she hopes they never come down from. She doesn't ever want to take for granted how very lucky she is, how very close she came to not having this moment.

"You know it's not going to be easy," Arthur says. "No matter how long you wait."

The three of them exchange uneasy glances and turn to stare down at their coffee. Alex presses her hand into Matt's under the table and he laces their fingers together. "We know."

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for your comments! In this chapter, Britney wrote Matt's point of view and the first Alex scene, and I wrote the last Alex scene. Chapter title comes from Aqualung's Brighter Than Sunshine. Enjoy the fluff:)

The whole world lost control

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Alex is only half awake when Salome scurries into her bedroom. The weak English sunlight filters through the blinds and across her face, and she has just managed to pull the blankets over her head, burrow further into the nest of pillows she has created for herself, and sigh contentedly. On the verge of falling back into blissful sleep, she vaguely registers Salome's hurried footsteps.

"Mom?"

She senses Salome hovering just over her head but she doesn't pull back the blankets. "Mm?"

"You and Matty are kissing on tv."

Yawning into her pillow, Alex shuts her eyes again and mumbles, "Yes love, it's called Doctor Who. Mummy is paid to kiss - "

"Nooo," Salome says, stomping one socked foot impatiently. "Not River and the Doctor. You and Matty. You're in your robe and Matty is touching your hair. The news lady says it's shocking."

Alex's eyes snap open under the blankets and her heart instantly begins to hammer. Sleep is now a distant, fleeting thought. Sitting bolt upright in bed, she yanks the covers from her head and stares at her daughter in horror through the tangled state of her hair. "What?"

Salome shrugs, fiddling with her pajama top and biting her lip nervously.

Stumbling out of bed and ending up tangled in sheets and blankets, Alex nearly trips in her haste. She untangles herself and sprints to the living room, where the television blares.

There it is – right on the screen for the whole world to see.

A grainy photograph – probably taken from someone's cell phone from a distance – of herself and Matt standing outside his trailer, wrapped around each other. She remembers that moment, just

two days ago. They'd been on their way from lunch to film a scene together. They had eaten in Matt's trailer under the pretense of going over lines, taking bites of peanut butter sandwiches in between soft kisses.

Afterwards, just outside the trailer, Matt had stopped and pulled her close for one last kiss. It had been a stupid thing to do – anyone could have seen them but Alex is always so weak when it comes to Matt and his kisses. She hadn't protested, and as Matt's hand buried itself in her hair and her mouth had opened to his, the lingering taste of peanut butter on him had made her smile.

The memory has been a sweet one still lingering fondly in the back of her head, one that makes her smile in quiet moments. Until now, anyway, because someone had been watching.

Oh, they'd been so bloody careless. How could they have been so thoughtless? So stupid?

Watching two news anchors analyze the picture, pointing out hand placement and just how close they're standing to each other, wondering aloud how long this "affair" has been going on and whether or not it has something to do with Matt's abrupt runaway act at his own wedding, Alex stares at the screen and feels like she might be sick.

Behind her, Salome has been fiddling with Alex's iPhone, and she holds it out now, looking contrite. "You're on the front page."

Alex grabs the phone from her, feeling panicked breaths hitching in her chest.

The Daily Mail.

Oh god. The picture is on the front page of the Daily Mail.

"Oh my god."

Exiting out of the app, Alex checks her call log and nearly curses aloud when she sees tens upon tens of missed calls from everyone from her sisters to Steven Moffat to her hairdresser. Her entire world has gone to hell and she had been sleeping!

"Mom?"

"What?" She asks, trying not to sound agitated and failing entirely. Salome seems to be the bearer of bad news today and Alex isn't sure how much more she can take.

"Who are all those people outside?"

Feeling her stomach drop into her knees and her heart leap into her throat, Alex slowly turns on the spot to see Salome peering out of the curtains into the front yard. Feeling rather like a woman walking to her doom, Alex joins her daughter at the window and sees an entire mob of people crowded around her front gate – reporters and photographers lying in wait like sharks for their prey, and the occasional fan holding up a sign of support. Thankfully, none of the fans seem to be angry ones. For now.

Simultaneously, they all spot her standing with Salome at the window and begin to shout and snap pictures. Alex gasps, yanking the curtain back into place and stepping back from the window. She glances down at Salome, who looks back up at her, perplexed. "Stay away from the windows, love."

Salome wanders back to the sofa to watch more news coverage, hugging a throw pillow tightly to her chest. Alex turns her attention back to her phone, ignoring all the missed calls and dialing the one number that matters right now. His mobile goes directly to voice mail and Alex lets out a tiny scream of frustration before hanging up and dialing his home telephone.

"Come on, you stupid man. Answer your bloody phone!" It rings for a while, and just as Alex is about to toss her phone out the window at the press in sheer frustration, he picks up.

Voice still gruff with sleep, he mumbles into the phone, "Ello?"

Oh, his sleepy voice does things to her. Unspeakable things. She swallows. He obviously has no idea what has happened while they slept like they hadn't a care in the world – she's almost reluctant to break the news to him. Between her unwillingness to tell him and the way that deep growl in his voice affects her, Alex opens her mouth to begin the best way she can, but the only thing that comes out is a shouted, spluttered, "Front page!"

"What?" Matt says, annoyed. "Yell a little louder, Kingston, I don't think they heard you in Cardiff! Bloody hell, my ears."

Running a hand through her hair, Alex begins pacing toward the kitchen just to give her restless body something to do. "Front page, Matt!"

As if registering the level of alarm in her voice, Matt stops complaining under his breath. "Alex, calm down. What are you talking about?"

She takes a deep breath but the hysterical panic is still rising rapidly. From the living room, she hears an anchorwoman announce from the television, 'Well, they certainly appear very cozy, don't they Jeff?'

'They certainly do, Jessica. And I don't know about our viewers but the age difference definitely calls up memories of the breakup of Alex Kingston's first marriage to actor Ralph Fiennes…'

Alex stops listening abruptly, forcing her attention away from the sound. She resists the urge to shout at Salome to turn the bloody thing off. This isn't her daughter's fault.

She swallows. "Any chance your mobile is off?"

"Yes, actually."

"Check it."

She waits impatiently, tapping her bare foot against the floor as she hears Matt rustling around, no doubt searching for his mobile in the pocket of his discarded jeans. "Hmm. Thirty-five missed calls. I'm popular this morning."

Alex takes another breath and shuts her eyes, fighting down the urge to scream. She will be calm and use her inside voice. She will be an adult and not resort to yelling at the man she loves just because he is a clueless twat. "What about the newspaper? Seen it this morning?"

"No. Why?"

"Look out your window."

Matt huffs, and she can just picture him sitting on the edge of his bed and running a hand through his hair, trying to be patient. "I don't like this game anymore. What the hell is going on?"

"Just look!" She snaps.

He huffs again but she can hear him shoving blankets out of the way in his effort to climb out of bed. "Fine, going to look." There's a short pause and she hears Matt curse loudly before a thunderous crash forces her to pull the phone away from her ear.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine. Tripped over a boot and fell against the nightstand in my haste to get away from the bloody village camped outside my house!" He sounds a little more panicked now and Alex knows this shouldn't make her feel better, but it does. "What are they doing there?"

Alex taps her nails rapidly against the countertop and says, "Get on the Daily Mail website and have a look."

"Is this some kind of bizarre scavenger hunt?" Matt grumbles, and she hears him rummaging for his phone again to check. There's a brief moment of silence while he navigates his phone and she listens to his calm, measured breaths and tries to mimic them, unsuccessfully.

She knows the moment he sees the picture because she hears his sharp intake of breath. "Buggering hell."

"Exactly," she says, slumping down into a bar stool, relieved that they're finally on the same page. "This was not supposed to happen, Matt!"

"Well," Matt hedges, and he still sounds far too collected, considering the circumstances. "I admit it's a bit early, but it's not like we weren't going to tell people eventually."

"Yes," she says, speaking slowly, as if to a child. "When it was our choice. Not because we've been forced out of hiding by a bloody picture of us snogging on the front page of the Daily Mail!"

"Oi, that was a good snog," he says, and she can practically feel him smiling. "I remember that snog."

"Oh my god," she says, incredulous. "That's what you have to say right now? Really? 'It was a good snog'?!"

"Well it was, wasn't it?" He asks, his voice teasing.

She cannot even speak. Why isn't he more upset about this?

"Alex, darling," he says, as if sensing her impending anxiety attack. "Don't forget to breathe."

"I don't need to breathe," she snaps. "I need to find whoever took that picture and stuff the bloody newspaper down their throats!"

"Alright. I'm coming over."

"What? No you're not!"

"Yes I am."

He sounds so matter of fact that for a moment, she says nothing. It isn't until she hears him rummaging around for a shirt that she finds her voice. "Matt, there are reporters everywhere. Don't be stupid. I'm all right, honestly. Don't go charging through the paparazzi and wind up crashing just because I'm having a bit of a meltdown."

"A bit?" He asks, scoffing. "You're threatening to choke someone with a copy of the Daily Mail!"

Alex winces. "I'm sorry. I'm just…" She sighs, feeling sudden tears prick her eyes. "I didn't want it to be this way. Like we've been keeping us a secret because we're ashamed or something."

"I know, love," Matt says, voice soft. "But you can't control everything. Just look at it this way – we don't have to hide anymore. If I want to kiss you in the middle of the street then I bloody well

can."

Suddenly understanding why he's being so mellow about everything, Alex smiles through the tears in her eyes. "No hiding. It will certainly be a nice change."

"That's the spirit, darling," he says, laughing.

Alex laughs too – their situation doesn't seem so terrible anymore. Damn him, Matt has always been able to make everything more bearable. "I love you, you idiot."

"Love you too," he says, and the smile in his voice is evident. "I'll be over as soon as I can get away. Don't choke anyone without me."

"Goodbye, Matt," she says, and hangs up.

Still trying to drown out the sound of strangers speculating about her love life on national television, Alex begins scrolling through her phone again. Arthur has called her a total of six times and has left three voice messages. While she doesn't plan on calling everyone back, she owes it to Arthur to let him know she's all right.

He answers on the first ring and the first thing he says is, "How are you?"

She smiles, leaning her elbows on the countertop. "I'm okay."

"You…have seen the telly, right?"

"Yes," she laughs.

"God," he sighs. "I woke up this morning and it was all over the place."

In the living room, the television seems to have gotten louder. Now, they're discussing the possibility of infidelity and whether she and Matt have been together since the very beginning of his tenure on the show. Alex huffs, blowing curls out of her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"Are you sure you're alright? I mean, I know you two wanted to wait a while before you told anyone -"

"I'm fine, honestly. The timing isn't great, but it had to happen eventually." She frowns at the granite countertop. "It's our fault, really. Should have been more careful."

"You know Karen is going to kill me once she finds out I knew all along," he says. "Considering she's been calling me all morning and I'm a really bad liar, she's going to find out soon."

He's trying to distract her and it's working. "Just stay away from her until we're on set Monday," she laughs. "I'll protect you."

"Have you spoken to Matt? I can't get him to answer his bloody phone - "

"Call his house," she says. "That's how I managed to get him."

"Will do," he promises. "And maybe you should stay in the house today? I went by your place earlier and it's a bloody mess."

She snorts. "Yes. I made the mistake of looking out my window and now I'm sure there are about twenty pictures of me in my nightie on the internet."

Arthur stifles a laugh. "Sorry."

She rolls her eyes. "But could you please talk to Matt? He's probably hatching some sort of madcap escape plan as we speak."

"Involving a fake disguise and his motorbike, no doubt," Arthur agrees with a laugh. "I'll do my best to at least talk him out of the faux facial hair."

Grinning into the phone, Alex says, "Thanks dear."

When she hangs up, Alex makes Salome change the channel. She keeps her mobile off, the curtains shut, and tries to forget that her life has just been turned upside down. With thoughts of being able to hold Matt's hand in public, and Arthur's support in her head, it isn't difficult to do.

XxX

It's the middle of the night when the doorbell rings, and Alex is sprawled across Matt in her bed, both of them lying in silence as Matt traces random letters on the naked skin of her back. It's just after midnight and Salome has been in bed for hours. The day has been a long one, filled with the media camping out outside Alex's townhouse and the phone ringing off the hook.

Matt had eventually made it over after sneaking out on his motorbike with an overnight bag so he could stay with Alex. The press had followed him, snapping photographs, calling out questions and generally making a nuisance of themselves until Matt had shut Alex's front door in their faces.

They haven't left the house all day, haven't even let Salome peer out through the curtains, and after a while, the press had given up for the day. Now, lying contentedly in bed and pressing lazy kisses to bare skin, neither one of them is happy with the thought of another reporter ringing the doorbell to ask for an interview.

Matt groans and Alex presses her lips to the skin of his chest. "Seriously? It's after bloody midnight!"

"Send them away before they wake up Salome," Alex says, rolling off him and sitting up.

Irritably running a hand through his hair, Matt pulls back the sheets and rummages around on the floor for his clothes. He yanks on a pair of jeans, heaving a sigh of annoyance when the bell rings again. He hurries from the bedroom to answer the door while Alex pulls on Matt's t-shirt and boxers.

Padding barefoot down the hall, she finds Matt leaning against the doorway and talking softly to someone, arms crossed over his bare chest. He glances over his shoulder at her and motions her forward. "Got a visitor, Kingston."

When he moves aside, Alex sees Karen standing in the porch light, looking rather dressed down in jeans and a thin sweater, ballet flats instead of heels. "Karen, honey," she says, moving forward. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to wait for the press to go away to talk to you," she says, smiling awkwardly. They haven't spoken since the story of Alex's relationship with Matt broke yesterday.

"Couldn't just call, Kaz?" Matt asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"No," Karen says, shaking her head. "I needed to see you in person."

Alex wraps her arms around herself, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation they're no doubt going to have, and she looks up and smiles when she feels Matt's gentle hand on the small of her back.

Karen watches them closely, but says nothing. Looking to Matt, she points a finger at his chest. "You and I are definitely going to talk, stupid face, but right now I want to talk to Alex."

Matt nods solemnly before offering them a grin. "Alright, but keep the arguing to a minimum – Salome's asleep down the hall."

Alex rolls her eyes at him but Matt only presses a kiss to the top of her head and disappears down the hall and into her bedroom. She turns to Karen, who looks so uncertain in her presence that it pains her. Things used to be so easy with them – Karen as the Pretend Mummy and Alex as Pond Junior. It doesn't feel so simple anymore – not now that Karen knows she has been keeping something so huge from everyone. Even her friends.

"Should we…?" Karen gestures to the living room, but Alex shakes her head.

"Since the press have gone, I'd rather sit outside. I've been cooped up in here all day."

They end up sitting on the steps outside, shoulders brushing when they move. For a while, neither of them speaks. They sit and listen to the London traffic, quiet on Alex's street now because of the late hour. A gentle breeze ruffles her curls and Alex closes her eyes, breathing in the night air.

"You lied to me," Karen finally says, her voice soft.

Just as quietly, Alex replies, "I know."

Shaking her head, Karen says, "No, I mean, you looked me in the eye on the night of Matt's stag party and you lied to me."

Alex remembers the look in Karen's eyes that night, like she just wanted to understand why Alex always looked like her heart had been ripped out of her chest. "I'm sorry."

"I thought we were friends." Karen offers the townhouses across the street a hollow smile. "Stupid, really."

"We are friends, love." Alex stares down at her lap, studying the checked pattern of Matt's boxers and wondering why everything always has to be so complicated.

Turning to look at her, Karen's eyes burn a hole through the side of Alex's face. "Then why? Why did you lie to me?"

Blowing out a breath of air into the night and watching it form a visible cloud in front of her, Alex runs a tired hand through her hair and glances at Karen. "Because I couldn't tell you. What would you have thought of me?" She shrugs. "Besides, there was nothing you could do about it. Nothing I said to anyone could change what was happening, and I didn't want to burden you with my problems, dear."

Karen snorts. "That's kind of the point of having friends, you know. Someone to share the burden with you."

"If I'm miserable, you're miserable?"

"That's right," Karen laughs, and it's good to hear after the uncertainty between them a few minutes ago. She sobers pretty quickly, tracing patterns on her jeans absentmindedly. "I wouldn't have thought of you any differently, you know."

Alex raises a skeptical eyebrow.

Waving her away, Karen says, "I mean, I would have been shocked, like I was yesterday when I

found out. But I still would have been your friend." She smiles. "And the second I saw you with Matt, I would have realized what was so incredibly obvious the moment he answered the door earlier. You make him happy. These last two weeks he's been more cheerful than I've seen him in months."

Alex smiles, fiddling with a loose thread on the hem of Matt's ratty t-shirt. "You think?"

Karen nudges her gently and smiles back. "I know."

They turn back to staring across the street and in the brief silence, Alex is suddenly very grateful for the wonderful people in her life. Her co-workers didn't have to care about her the way they did. Arthur didn't have to keep such a hefty secret from everyone but he did, just because he cared about her and Matt. Karen didn't have to be here now, sitting on the front steps of her townhouse in the middle of the night and reassuring her even after Alex had lied to her face. Steven didn't have to call her that afternoon and jokingly ask her if she and Matt were taking their roles a little too seriously. Alex knows now that no matter what the press say, nothing will change with the people who care for her.

Next to her, Karen stretches long legs out in front of her and sighs, tilting her head up to the night sky. "I'm sorry."

Alex frowns. "What for?"

"That you went through all of that by yourself. You should have had someone to talk to. I should have noticed - "

"No," Alex shakes her head, placing a hand over Karen's. "People saw what we wanted them to see." She shrugs. "Except Arthur, who apparently has super powers."

Karen laughs, leaning her head against Alex's shoulder. "Just wait until I talk to that idiot. I can't believe he knew and didn't tell me!"

"Don't be too hard on him, "Alex says. "He was just trying to be a good friend."

Karen straightens, nodding. "I know. He always is."

Bumping the girl's shoulder playfully, Alex says, "So are you."

"You think?" Karen glances sideways at her.

Alex smiles. "I know."

XxX

Morning comes too quickly, or consciousness does. It's difficult to tell the difference, or exactly why she is awake. All that she knows is that she is, and she is not happy.

It feels as if it has only been five minutes since she fell asleep, and after the conversation she had with Karen last night (and the sex she had with Matt, right after), she would have appreciated more sleep. Finally pinpointing the cause of her sudden pull to reality – a loud crinkling above her head. What is that, newspaper? – Alex throws an arm over her head in an attempt to drown out the sound.

"Hah, this one's the best," Matt chuckles, straightening the paper. Is he talking to her? She's asleep! Or trying to be, at least. While contemplating his sanity, Alex doesn't have a choice but to listen as he begins to read: "Mid-life crisis? We don't think so. Alex Kingston may have had some hard times in her life, but she's a strong woman. No, we believe that the Kingston may have a few kinks. What else could it be?"

"Matt," Alex grumbles when he pauses, opening her bleary eyes to look at the clock. 5:42am. What. The. Hell.

Ignoring her weak protest, he surges on. "She could find the twenty year difference to be a major turn on. Or maybe - What?! I do not! They're saying I have mummy issues! My mum and I get on just fine, thanks!"

"Oh my god! Matt! It's only a quarter to six!" She whines, rolling over to yank the newspaper from his grasp. To the best of her ability with one hand, she crumples it and tosses it to the floor, all the while glaring at him from behind her messy curls.

"Eh, I'm sorry, baby," he claims, rolling onto his side and scooting down the bed to face her. "I woke up about an hour ago and the paper was just lying there on your nightstand."

"And you had to read it out loud and wake me up, you daft man?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, and Alex follows the movement with her eyes. Those shoulders, those collarbones always catch her attention at the most inopportune moments. He begins to smirk, the smirk she is always wary of. It usually means he's planning something, and she usually doesn't like that something (or likes it too much).

"I was planning on waking you up anyway," he explains, moving closer to her.

Biting her lip and trying desperately to stay mad at him (but that face and those collarbones and that chest), she asks, "Oh yeah? Why's that?"

Breath hot and heavy on her cheeks, he says slowly, voice husky, "So I could make love to you again."

And then he's kissing her, slow and soft, all lips. His hands thread through her hair, massaging gently at her scalp and swallowing the distinct mewls leaving her throat. The effect his touch and kiss have on her has always been extreme. The way he caresses her like she means the world to him (she supposes she does, in the end) and always puts her first. She feels her anger at him ebb slowly to the back of her mind.

"Love you," he murmurs and she smiles, caressing his cheek with her thumb. His hands begin to trail down her body and she can't help the shivers. They wrack her body in waves, the teasing touch causing her to convulse in a way that probably is not attractive.

"Still mad at you," she breathes against his mouth, letting him push her down against the mattress. His hands flex against her hips, his erection pushing against her belly in an intoxicating way. The way his fingers caress her skin never fails to cause gooseflesh to erupt all across her body, from her toes to her scalp.

And the way his hands slide down her hips to grip her thighs (tight at first, followed by soothing strokes) to spread her legs has her biting his lip and tugging on it as she pulls desperately at his shoulders.

"No, you're not," he growls softly with a grind of his hips into hers. The action brings a broken moan to her lips as a fresh wave of arousal shoots through her.

"Shut up," she commands, tugging his face down to hers by his ears. This kiss is similar to the last, unhurried. They have all the time in the world to enjoy each other. It's a slow battle, his tongue seeking entrance into her mouth, only to be outdone by her. Back and forth, they fight each other, only breaking apart when breathing becomes difficult through the nose.

With his hands buried deep within her hair (just the way she likes it), he pulls back to look at her with such an intense gaze that she almost wants to shy away from it. She should be over the intensity that comes with this man, but she's not. She'll never understand the depth of his emotion for her, or the whys of it. She wouldn't know where to start.

"Have I told you how much I love you?" Matt asks with bright eyes. He dips down, just for a moment, to brush his lips against hers. A soft caress. "All the things I love about you?"

Unable to keep up with his level of seriousness, she grins, avoiding the sting behind her eyes. She doesn't deserve this. Oh, what has she done to deserve this? "No, but maybe you should."

His reciprocating smile is breathtaking, but she doesn't get much time to contemplate the beauty of him, because he's moving again. His hardness pressing against her wet heat in just the right way, soft strokes, never penetrating. She gasps, licking her lips and toying with the hair at his nape to give her fingers something to do. She doesn't break eye contact; doesn't even think she could.

"You remember that first day?" He asks softly, and she can see the strain around his eyes and she knows this is difficult for him - keeping up a conversation while also focusing on pleasure.

"The first day we met?" Alex questions, and her voice is breathless. She sounds as tired and aroused as she feels, all because of this man. The heels of her feet dig into the soft flesh of his ass, ensuring the continuation of his languid strokes.

"Yeah," he says tightly, and for a moment, he simply searches her eyes. Fingers run across her temples and his strokes become slower, more purposeful. "You had me ensnared from that day on. The way you threw yourself into the work, the way you helped me. Those eyes. Alex, do you have any idea what those beautiful green eyes do to me?"

Her chance at replying is stolen when his next movement has him buried halfway inside her, her mouth opening and closing on lost words and replaced with an almost desperate sound. She feels like a livewire. He's got her every nerve ending on fire with a few simple touches and barely-there penetration.

And those words, accompanied by that voice.

"You're such a great mother," he continues, and she stares, wide-eyed, up at him. She is so speechless at the moment, the combined feeling of pleasure and overwhelming love for a man she never thought she'd have a second chance with causing her to short circuit in whichever part of the brain that connects thought to speech. "The way you talk, so bloody eloquent and sarcastic and so charming.

"I don't know where I'd be right now, you know. Without you, since the beginning, I'd be so lost. I love you so damned much. I love your hair, your smile, your teeth. Everything about you just sends me into a tizzy. I have honestly never loved anyone this much."

She's crying now, she knows, but she can't help herself. She has never felt so loved before, not like this. Not so importantly, so intimately. This love is raw, and still so very, very new.

Finally able to find her voice (he's stopped moving. He's just watching her now, gaze unwavering), she slides her hand into his hair, tugging his face closer to hers and simply says, "I love you, too. You mean the world to me."

It seems to be enough for him, and oh. His lips slam against hers hastily, just as his hips slam forward the rest of the way. It stings, just a bit, from the lack of movement, but the feeling is quickly amended with the sharp slash of undiluted pleasure that courses through her abdomen. He's breathing harshly through his nose, thumbs and breath touching her face, everywhere. She clings to him, arms tightening around his neck, fingers gripping his hair tightly, as they begin to rock against each other.

The level of emotion in this moment brings fresh tears to her eyes. They have the chance to fully explore their newfound relationship with each other, right here, in this moment. Everything seems heightened - the way his thickness slides in and out without a hitch, the way his chest brushes across her hardened nipples - and she's gasping, moaning into his mouth.

She turns her face to breathe, because she can't. Oh, she can't. This is all so much. The feel of it, the rush of it. The emotion behind it. She begins to lose herself, skin tightening, toes tingling. A chant of love on her lips.

And she loves him, so much. The road to this moment couldn't have been rockier, but it was worth it. Those six months were worth this.

He's all around her, physically and emotionally. This man is everything she could ever need, and more.

His face is buried in her neck, lips moving in a rushed movement as he claims his love for her over and over. Their words mingle and she can no longer tell who is saying what, because it is all the same. It is all them and intertwining and thrusting and so very bright.

The brightness begins to blind her and her thighs tighten around his hips. The air around them thickens, and somewhere in the back of her mind she knows she has to be quiet, because her daughter is sleeping in another room, so she tugs his face back to hers and allows him to swallow her shout as her body breaks. And he is right there with her.

"I love you," she gasps when their lips part and their bodies still. Her eyes feel so much heavier than they did before, and so wet. He's looking down at her with love-filled eyes and his hands can't pick a spot to stay still. He's touching her all over and she's twitching, over-sensitized and utterly spent.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, rolling them over. She curls into his side, head resting comfortably on his chest. The cool air soothes her sweat-covered back and she shivers, content.

They fall asleep together, just like that, not waking until Salome knocks on the door around noon, demanding company and lunch.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for your comments! We love you muchly. In this chapter, I wrote the first two sections and Britney wrote the last one. Chapter title from Cage the Elephant's Right Before My Eyes. Also, thanks to Charina for being our beta again!

They will see us waving

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

On Monday, when it's time to go back to the set for filming, Alex can't help but be a little nervous after a weekend of hiding. She leaves Salome at the townhouse with a babysitter instead of taking her out in the media frenzy, and when she pulls into the parking lot of the studio, the butterflies in her stomach begin to flutter madly. Taking a deep breath, she pulls the keys from the ignition and opens the car door, only to hit Matt in the side with it.

She yelps at the sight of him, bringing a hand to her mouth and starting back in her seat.

"Ow." Matt touches his hip with a grimace and peers at her over her open car door.

"Oh my god," Alex breathes, slumping in her seat. "You scared me to death! What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting for you," he says, frowning at her and stepping back to let her open the door and get out. "You didn't think I'd be going in there on my own, did you?"

She rolls her eyes. "Of course not."

Still gingerly prodding at his hipbone, Matt gives her a wounded look. "You should really be more careful about opening doors. I'm starting to think you have it out for me."

Shutting her door, Alex tosses her keys into her bag and smiles up at him. "Always." Pushing his hand out of the way, she rests her palm against his hip and asks, "Want me to kiss it better?"

He glares at her. "Don't start. Steven says we have to be good today so don't get me all…excited. Can't exactly drag you off to a closet anymore."

Alex pouts, leaning into him with searching hands.

Wiggling out of her grasp with obvious reluctance, he shakes a finger at her. "Best behavior,

Kingston. We're being watched now, you know."

Suddenly remembering what's waiting for them inside, Alex sobers quickly. "Yes, I remember," she sighs, casting a wary glance in the direction of the studio.

Matt softens at the look on her face, reaching out for her hand and pulling her close. "Hey," he says quietly, waiting for her to meet his eyes. After a moment of hesitation, she does. "It's going to be fine. You know that, right?"

She shakes her head, slipping her hand up his chest to grip the collar of his leather jacket. "Cheating is never okay, Matt. And now everyone knows I'm the woman you left your fiancée at the altar for. We're not exactly going to get pats on the back and congratulations."

"I'm the one who did the cheating," Matt points out gruffly, tightening his grip around her waist. "If people want to be angry with someone, they should be angry with me. I'm the screw-up here."

Pressing her face into his jacket, Alex shudders. "I wish we'd done things differently."

"I know," he murmurs into her hair. "But we didn't, and I won't be sorry for saving Daisy and I from a lifetime of misery together. And I certainly won't be sorry for being with you."

Alex feels his lips pressing into her hair in a kiss and she closes her eyes, letting herself have this moment before they walk into the studio and deal with scrutinizing eyes on them. Most of these people have been like family, and she just has to hope that they still feel that way, even now.

"Alright," she breathes out. "I'm ready."

When Matt leads Alex into the studio, her grip on his hand is nearing painful, but he doesn't pull away. He's nervous too, but he knows that ultimately, she isn't the one who's going to be facing the scrutiny here, and that eases the knot in his stomach a little. They can say whatever they want to him, look at him however they want, but not Alex.

The moment they walk through the doors, it's like someone has died. Before they begin filming in

the morning, the set is usually filled with boisterous laughter, shouting and the occasional blast of the White Stripes. People are always talking, teasing one another and if Karen has anything to say about it, there's usually really terrible dancing going on somewhere. Now, however, quiet descends. It's not so quiet that one could hear a pin drop, but the atmosphere is noticeably different. There is no laughter, no music, or general atmosphere of cheerfulness.

Everyone does a fantastic job of pretending to go about their business but Matt can feel them watching out of the corner of their eyes. Alex's grip on his hand is progressively tightening until his knuckles are sore and aching, but he only increases his hold on her fingers and pulls her along. He doesn't glance at her face because he already knows she's pale and pursing her lips just from the way her hand trembles ever so slightly in his.

Matt nods to people he likes especially well as they pass, offering weak smiles and hoping that everyone here is grown up enough not to open their stupid mouths. No one does.

The first person they encounter who is willing to meet their eyes is Karen, who beams the moment she sees them from across the set shouts, "It's my daughter and her boyfriend!"

Matt feels the change in the air instantly – someone has finally acknowledged what has transpired over the weekend and everyone seems to simultaneously breathe a sigh of relief. Next to him, he feels Alex relax her rigid posture, no longer standing like she's preparing for scornful words.

Karen scurries over to them and throws her arms around Alex, forcing her to release her death-grip on Matt's hand to hug her back. Flexing his fingers gratefully, Matt watches them with a mixture of amusement and gratitude. Over Alex's shoulder, Karen winks at him.

That absolute bint.

Matt wants to laugh. What better way to dissolve the tension than a familial hug right in front of everyone? He has to hand it to her; Kaz certainly isn't as dense as he so often tells her she is.

As soon as Karen releases Alex, she's pulling him into a hug and whispering in his ear, "Don't worry, stupid face. Everything's fine."

Wrapping his arms around her waist and watching Arthur come up to Alex and wrap an arm around her shoulders, Matt presses a kiss to Karen's temple. "Thanks, Kazza."

Pulling back to smile at him, Karen asks, "Grateful enough to make the coffee?"

Matt snorts. "Hardly."

Punching him in the arm, Karen mutters, "Jerk." She reaches out to pull Arthur away from Alex, her face the picture of excitement. "Let's show them that dance we made up earlier."

Arthur shakes his head, backing away and pulling Alex with him, much to her amusement. "I don't know what dance you're referring to, crazy person. Please back away and leave my friend and I alone."

Karen pouts. "Come on! Don't make me do it by myself!"

"Who says you have to do it at all?" Arthur asks, stopping now that he's a good distance away from her and still clinging to Alex like she might somehow be able to save him. "Just spare us the embarrassment of having to watch you."

Turning to Matt, Karen bites her lip. "C'mon, Matt. If I teach you, will you dance with me?

Please?"

There is no denying Karen is rather brilliant at distracting everyone, and Matt knows she's doing it for him and Alex – if everyone is too busy paying attention to her being ridiculous, then no one is going to be looking at the scandalous couple that made the front page over the weekend. He can't say no.

Sighing, Matt nods. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Clapping her hands together gleefully, Karen takes him by the arm and pulls him into the center of the room. Sitting down next to Arthur far away from them, Alex gives him a genuine smile – totally free of anxiety. It makes the fact that he's about to look like a total moron completely worth it.

In a few short minutes, Karen has Arthur up as well and they're all thrashing about to Tommy Sparks, cheeks flushed and breathless grins on their faces. Watching them from her chair and doubled over with laughter, Alex calls out encouragement to them whenever she can manage to catch her breath. Around them, the various crewmembers are either chuckling or singing along as

they go about their work, and Matt feels the tightness in his chest ease.

He and Alex are buying Karen dinner. Lots of dinners. And as much coffee as her daft, brilliant heart desires.

The song comes to an end and Matt collapses against his friends as they erupt into breathless laughter. Groaning as he makes his way back to his seat next to Alex, Arthur asks, "Why do I let you two talk me into this rubbish?"

"Because you don't think it's rubbish," Karen says. "You think it's fun, but you're just too ashamed to admit it."

"As I should be," Arthur agrees, slouching in his chair.

Matt is just about to make his way over to Alex when a cameraman he frequently sees her talking to around set strolls by. "Ms. Kingston," he nods with a smile, and Alex waves at him enthusiastically. At this encouragement, he stops walking and ambles over to stand by her chair. Gesturing to Matt with one hand, he uses the other to lean against the arm of her chair and asks just loud enough for Matt to hear, "So does this mean I can't wink at you during takes anymore?"

Alex bursts into delighted laughter, and even as Matt bristles a bit at the thought of anyone winking at her but him, he can't help but feel grateful to anyone who makes her laugh when just fifteen minutes ago she hadn't wanted to let go of his hand.

He doesn't hear Alex's response because he's too busy staring at the way her smile lights up her whole face but when the cameraman strides away whistling, Matt can guess what her reply had been. He comes up to her and takes her hand, forcing her out of her seat before taking it for himself and pulling her down into his lap. It's the most delightful thing he's ever done in his life, holding her in front of all these people. No one even looks at them. It's as if it's the most normal thing in the world, having Alex Kingston in his lap.

No more hiding, not ever.

While Karen and Arthur argue over the song selection on the iPod they're sharing, Matt speaks softly into Alex's ear, "I hope you told him to keep the flirting to a minimum and never in front of me."

Alex chuckles warmly, leaning back into his chest. "I might have told him to meet me at my car after work for a quick snog. Hope you don't mind."

Matt pinches her side and she squirms away with a surprised yelp. "Not funny, Kingston."

Turning in his arms, she meets his eyes with a brilliant smile. "You know you're the only one who can wink at me and get a kiss, honey."

"I'd better be," he growls playfully, and can't help but smile when Alex presses a soft kiss to his mouth.

"What's this?" A loud Scottish voice from across the set sends them jumping apart. "Art imitating life or life imitating art?" Steven laughs loudly at his own joke, and Matt sticks his tongue out at him like the mature adult he is. It's too early in the morning for Steven Moffat being clever.

Beth tells Steven to "leave the lovebirds in peace" and someone from costuming backs her up. Steven ends up throwing his hands in the air and bowing out of the room like some sort of apologetic subject of the court. Someone calls out a few lines from Ding-Dong the Witch is Dead, sending the entire set into peals of laughter. Steven comes back into the room to throw a battered script at them all and then exits again in a good-humored huff.

And just like that, everything is fine.

The day goes on as a day on set normally does. Everyone talks and laughs between takes as usual, but this time, Matt and Alex don't have to sneak off somewhere to be by themselves. There's no need. Matt can hold her hand in front of the whole crew. He can pull her close and wrap his arms around her from behind while he talks to Arthur about that match on the telly last night. He can kiss her when she wrinkles her nose up after buggering up one of her lines, with the crew 'aww-ing' good-naturedly in the background.

He isn't sure why, but Matt had expected worse than this. He had expected glares, whispering, or at least gaping. He should have known better – they have always been a family on set. Why should today be any different? Truly going out in public together in London might be a different story entirely, but enclosed in this unassuming studio Matt and Alex are safe.

It's their first day together out of hiding, and it's smashing.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for comments and reviews! Friday wrote the entirety of this chapter so blame her if you choke on the fluff. Chapter title comes from the Iron & Wine song Such Great Heights.

I love the way you make it sound

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

For the most part, the reactions from the public have been surprisingly tame – everyone was shocked at first, but what public doesn't love a good scandal? On the whole, Doctor Who fans are wonderful people and very supportive. It isn't unusual for a fan to hug Matt while he's out and about, saying they're happy for him and Alex is lovely. But occasionally, someone will say something nasty.

Most of the time, Matt laughs them off and goes on his way, forgetting all about it when he goes home and kisses Alex. Today, however, when Matt and Alex are strolling hand-in-hand down a busy street in London, peering into shop windows and hoping to find something really special for Salome, that changes.

"Look at that," Matt cups his hands around his face and peers into the shop window, smiling. "See it? Far right corner. The brown one."

Alex leans in close and Matt wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her into his side as she joins him in staring. "You can't be serious."

"What? It's cute!"

"This is supposed to be a small gift from the both of us for putting up with all the press lately – it's not her birthday. We are not buying Salome a puppy!"

"Why not?" Matt asks, and he's entirely aware that he's sounding rather whiney, but honestly, how can she say no to that face? It's pudgy and wrinkled and adorable!

"Because you'll both be fascinated for about a day and then you'll move on to something else like knitting or building ships in bottles and I'll be the one taking it out when it needs to wee and cleaning up its messes. It will end up being my dog and I don't want a dog, Matt!"

Matt frowns her at her. "Your level of confidence in my attention span is astounding. I'm not a three year old, you know."

"No," Alex smiles, leaning up to kiss his chin. "Your attention span is much shorter than a three year old's. It's more like a gold fish."

"And yet I could stare at you for hours," he says, waiting for her to laugh and call him cheesy.

She doesn't.

Her nose wrinkles up in that adorable way Matt loves so much, and her green eyes shine. She smiles up at him like they're completely alone and not on a very public street. Matt wants to spend the rest of his life putting that look of pure happiness on her face. He's just about to lean in and kiss her soundly right in the middle of the sidewalk when someone bumps into them, knocking them into each other quite roughly.

"Oi!" He shouts even as he steadies Alex with one arm, turning to find a woman in what looks to be her late twenties glaring at them. "Watch where you're going, eh?"

"You're sick," the woman says, but she isn't looking at Matt. She's looking right past him, to Alex, whose grip on Matt's hand is vice-like. "Couldn't find someone your own age who wanted you?"

Matt stiffens, pulling Alex behind him as onlookers begin to stop and gawk at the disruption in the middle of the sidewalk. "Who the hell do you think - "

"Matt, no," Alex tightens her grip on his hand, and he hadn't realized he'd taken a menacing step forward until she tugs him back.

He turns to glance at her and he can't help but notice that the charming sparkle in her green eyes is gone and her smile has vanished, no longer crinkling her nose the way he loves. In that moment, he just wants to wrap his arms around her and shield her from every bad thing in the world, from every horrible comment, every bad day. He never wants to see that look on her face ever again and he wants to hurt anyone who tries to put it there.

"He can do a lot better than you. At least Daisy wasn't old enough to be his mother," the woman says, and Matt turns to look at her again. His face must have been something awful to behold because she takes a large step back, looking a little less sure of herself. She begins to walk away, taking small steps backward and still glowering at Alex. "Slag." With that, she turns and fights her way through the crowd, moving quickly.

"Oh, I don't think so," Matt mutters, moving forward. "Sodding bitch, just wait till I catch up with you." Matt tries to shake off Alex's hand but she won't be budged and he ends up stalking angrily in the direction the woman had gone, dragging Alex with him.

She barely manages to keep up with his large strides, sprinting a bit even as she tries to pull on his arm. "Matt, stop it."

He ignores her, narrowed eyes scanning the streets for the woman's bright red shirt. He isn't sure what he's going to do. Follow her home to get her address and then plan some sort of vengeful thing – he isn't clear on what that thing might be just yet. Something involving letting monkeys loose in her apartment, maybe. And a loud construction crew outside her window every morning at five. He'll get Arthur and his band to play terrible 80's ballads outside her door at all hours of the night. And other even more horrible things he hasn't had time to think of yet because he's never been so furious in his entire life. He's so angry he can't even think properly. He doesn't want to think. He just wants to hurt someone – he wants that woman to be a man so he can sock him in the jaw.

Alex finally manages to pull them to a stop, tugging obstinately at Matt's hand with one of hers and using the other to cling to a lamppost, keeping them from moving any further. "Matt, listen to me," she says, and she sounds shaken but calm. "Stop it. It's fine."

The tone of her voice manages to cut through the fog of anger clouding his mind, and he swivels on his heel to look at her, incredulous. "No, it's not bloody well fine," he says tersely, jaw tight. "No one can speak to you like that. Ever."

Eyes softening, Alex releases her grip on the lamppost and takes a step toward him. "Do you really think this is the first time someone has said something to me about us?"

Matt frowns, looking away. "I try not to think about it."

Reaching for his other hand, she lifts them both to her lips and kisses his knuckles softly, eyes on his. Instantly, he feels the burning rage ebb…just a little. It's hard to stay angry when she's looking at him like that. "You think I care what they think?"

His breathing is starting to even out and his mind becomes a little clearer now that he isn't huffing angrily through his nose and stalking the streets like some sort of vengeful god. He almost feels like a rational person again. "You used to care."

Alex squares her shoulders, still holding his hands gently in hers. "Not anymore." She sweeps a thumb across his knuckles in a light caress that makes his eyes flutter and his mouth twitch. "We've been through hell to get where we are now."

Matt nods, gently pulling his hands from hers and placing them on her hips, tugging her into him. He rests his forehead against hers and studies the gold flecks in her green eyes up close.

Sighing, warm breath ghosting over his face, Alex looks right back at him, voice soft. "I love you. So bloody much. I won't let them make me feel bad for that. I won't let them make me regret being happy."

Hearing her say she loves him will never, ever get old. Twenty years from now, those words from her lips will still make his heart turn over in his chest. Drawing her ever closer, Matt hugs her tightly, resting his chin atop her head and just holding her. Alex holds him right back, arms wrapped around his middle and face buried in his shirt collar.

"We are happy, aren't we?" He asks quietly, and he feels Alex smile into his neck.

"Blissful, love."

For another long moment, they stand there under the light of the lamppost in silence, holding one another tightly as people pass them by and cars honk in the street. It all fades away, background noise in comparison to her breath in his ear and her hair tickling his throat. Nothing else matters.

"Alex?" Matt asks after a minute, breaking the tender silence.

"Mmm?"

"I really want that puppy."

Alex snorts into his shirt, and when she pulls away to smile up at him, Matt grins. There's that face he loves so dearly. He knows she won't always be so happy – this isn't a storybook and sometimes there are bad days, even after the happy ending. But he'll try his damnedest to make sure her good days will outweigh her bad ones.

"At least come back and look at it," he says, offering her his best and most charming smile. "I dare you to hold the puppy and still say no."

Alex crosses her arms and looks at him pointedly. "I'm quite capable of saying no to even the cutest of faces."

Matt lets his smile drop, knowing she's onto him. "Fine, but I really think if you hold it, you'll be a much more easy-going person. Maybe that's what's missing from your life." He regards her piteously. "My God, Kingston. You've never cuddled a puppy before, have you?"

She whacks him on the arm, smiling, even though Matt can tell by the way her mouth twitches that she doesn't really want to be so amused by him. Alex takes his hand, pulling him along back to the pet store. "You can hold it for a minute, and then we're leaving. Without a puppy."

"Kingston, how can you be so cold? Puppies are the very meaning of life!"

As they stroll back toward the pet store, their quiet, gentle bickering continues until the sound of their voices fades into the noise and fog of the London night air.

XxX

Matt stacks the dishes after dinner, listening as Alex tries to convince her daughter to take a shower from down the hall. Salome claims that it's too early for bedtime, shouting about how she's not even tired. He can't say he has ever witnessed a dispute between the two, but they are far more vocal than he imagined. He tries to stay out of it, considering he's not Salome's father in any way, and continues his trek towards the sink. The noise the water creates doesn't cover the bickering and he sighs, running a damp hand through his hair and turning to face the archway that leads to the living room.

"Stay right there, young lady!" Alex shouts, sounding closer than before. He sees her pop her head into the kitchen, frustration clearly outlining her face. He senses a hint of desperation in her look, and she seems hesitant. "I wish I didn't have to do this, but she won't listen to me. Do you think you could help?"

Flashing her a quick smirk, he motions to the dishes with a flick of his wrist and raises a brow. "You do the dishes, I'll convince the kid to take a shower."

She laughs, entering the kitchen fully. They meet in the middle, sharing a small kiss that quickly turns into another and another, before she's pushing him away. "Right then. Go deal with my difficult child while I deal with this mess of a kitchen."

Smiling as he moves past her, he gives her bum a quick smack and ignores the indignant sound of protest she shoots his way. When he makes it to the hallway, he sees Salome burst out of the loo and into her bedroom, shutting the door before he has the chance to say anything. Sighing, he taps lightly on the door, calling out her name.

"I don't want to go to bed," Salome shouts.

"How does a shower immediately constitute going to bed?" Matt asks, voice soft. He knows Salome will have to go to bed after her bath, but he does have a few secrets of his own. "You see, what you do is spend a long time in the shower. Spend more time washing up, and by the time you're out, the thought of going to bed won't seem like such a bad thing."

The voice on the other side of the door is silent for a while, and Matt wonders if she's even listening to what he has to say. He doesn't have much experience when it comes to children. None at all, to be honest. He knows how to make them laugh and how to play games with them, but when it comes to disciplining and stuff like that, he's got nothing. He's never really been around children long enough to have to deal with it.

He isn't questioning himself for much longer when Salome opens the door slowly, towel wrapped around her arm. She's looking at him curiously, and he can see a dirt smudge across her cheek and understands why Alex was being so adamant about a shower right now.

Salome is filthy.

"That's it? Really? You just gotta stay in there longer?" She asks, stepping out of the room. She glances down the hall, as if expecting her mother to come around the corner any minute and start shouting at her again. She glances back at him with a scrutinizing gaze, and he straightens his posture.

"Of course. That's what I used to do as a kid. Especially with hot baths. You know, it's always harder to get out of the shower when the water is nice and warm."

Salome smiles, stepping around him with careful, quiet steps. He notices what she's doing, immediately, and has to contain a loud laugh at her antics. She doesn't want Alex to know she's giving in; she's sneaking about the hallway, because she doesn't want her mother to know.

Life is brilliant.

As Salome enters the loo and flicks the switch, Matt sends her a smile and moves to head back to the kitchen. He doesn't get far before the young girl says, "If you lied to me, I'm going to be very cross," and then shuts the door.

He stares wide-eyed at the occupied loo, skin crawling with how much Alex he heard in Salome's voice in that moment. Like mother, like daughter, he supposes. He's still a little frightened when he's back in the kitchen, but Alex is swaying her arse and humming I Wanna Be Sedated by the Ramones while washing dishes. If anything can distract him from a possible impending doom, it's that.

"I can't control my fingers, I can't control my brain," Matt sings, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. She jumps a bit in his embrace, only to begin giggling and squirming around.

"Don't scare me like that," she chides, turning her face to kiss his mouth softly. "Did you get her to take a shower already?"

He shrugs, nuzzling her nose with his before pulling away to allow her to continue her chore. "It wasn't that difficult. I just told her to make the shower last longer. Prolong the time before bed."

"Of course you did," Alex laughs, rinsing the last of the dishes before laying them out on the towel. Matt watches as she grabs a couple paper towels to dry her hands before leaning against the counter to look at him again. "You're great with her, you know. I didn't think it was possible that you could be so great."

He bites his lip, honestly touched by the compliment. "I do my best."

Alex awards his modesty with an eye roll, staring at him with unadulterated affection in her eyes. He feels his knees go weak and wonders at how, after having so much time to reacquaint himself with her, she still causes him to go all schoolboy for her. There is never a moment where he doesn't just flail for a moment, flabbergasted with the knowledge that she did, indeed, want him; that she chose him.

It's all just so much.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about," she says. She pushes away from the counter to grab his hand and lead him to the living room. Once they're seated on the couch, hands still entwined, she smiles at him with a bit of hesitancy. "I was thinking about moving back to England."

"Are you serious?" Matt exclaims, hoping he sounded a bit less hopeful than he probably did. Just the thought of having her and Salome here, all the time, is enough to cause him to get a bit excited.

"Well, I seem to have a better chance at getting work here, and the schools are very nice. But Salome's father is back in America, so we'd have to figure out what to do about that. I mean, we already have a place here, so the transition wouldn't be too stressful-"

"Wait," Matt interrupts, tightening his hand around hers. "Why don't you two move in with me?"

The look Alex is giving him causes Matt to pause for a moment. She's staring at him with that 'deer-caught-in-headlights' look, as if she cannot honestly believe he just suggested that.

"Just hear me out, okay? My house has far more space than this place does, and with us being in a relationship, there will be a lot of going back and forth between us and Salome is going to have enough of that when it comes to seeing her dad. And I love you two. I mean, why shouldn't we move in together? And don't think I'm trying to push you into anything. I completely understand if you don't want to move that quickly."

Matt knows he's rambling at this point, but it's all he can do to make sure Alex understands where he's coming from. All he wants is to be close to the ladies he loves, all the time. Having them in the same home as him? Simply a plus. Much more manageable as well. And why isn't Alex saying anything? She should be saying something. He bites his lip, taking in her expression, which is contemplative. At least she's thinking about it and not completely running away from the idea. He doesn't think he'd be able to handle a complete freak out. Not after the last one.

He should really pay attention to his words.

"Matt? Are you listening to me?" Alex asks, voice finally filtering through his mile-a-minute mind.

Blinking, Matt finally realizes that she's been talking and he has no idea what she said.

"Um, no," he says honestly. When she laughs, the uneasiness in his stomach loosens and he smirks a bit.

"I said, if you had been paying attention, that I would love to move in with you."

Without warning, Matt attacks her with kisses, far too happy for words. She giggles under his onslaught, especially when his fingers trace the sides of her stomach in a light caress. She said yes to moving in with him.

She bloody said yes.

"I love you," he murmurs against her lips, ceasing his attack to come up and hold her face with his hands. She smiles, arms coming to wrap around his back and tug him on top of her.

"I love you, too, you great useless thing."

"Not so useless," he growls, kissing her again.

"Come on , really?" Salome cries, standing in her pajamas in the hallway. Matt scrambles off Alex as quickly as possible, almost falling off the couch in the process, before turning to look at the small intruder, who was currently rubbing at her eyes, an obvious sign of sleepiness.

Success.

"Sorry, poppet. Your mum and I were just having a celebratory kiss."

"'Romp' is more like it," Salome mumbles.

"Salome! Where did you learn that word?" Alex exclaims, eyes wide and coming to a stand.

Salome deadpans, looking much like her mother when she says, "You."

To say the least, Alex is very sheepish as she lets out a small, "Oh," and sits back down in her seat.

"Why were you celebrating, anyway?"

Matt looks to Alex, silently asking if he can tell Salome the news. Alex nods with a small smile, moving to hold his hand again.

"Poppet, you and your mum are going to be moving in with me at my place," he says slowly, studying the young girl's face. She doesn't say anything at first, merely looking between him and Alex, before she's rushing toward them with a smile on her face.

"Yay! Can we paint my room? Do I get my own bathroom?" She asks quickly, switching between hugging her mum and tugging on Matt's sleeve.

"Slow down, sweetheart," Alex laughs, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "One step at a time."

Salome stares at Matt, biting her lip with a very serious look on her face. Afraid for reasons unknown, he begins to nod and pats her back reassuringly. "We can paint your room any color you want."

Alex rolls her eyes good-naturedly, seemingly understanding Matt's irrational fear of her daughter.

XxX

An hour later, and under the request of Salome, Matt is tucking her in for bed while Alex takes a much needed, relaxing bath (after shouting about no hot water and sulking for a half hour). He pulls back Salome's sheets for her, smiling when she immediately curls up on her side, facing him.

He places a kiss to her forehead, whispering goodnight. He begins to back out of the room, switching off the light.

"Matty?" Salome speaks up, watching him from her position on the bed.

"Yes, princess?"

"Thank you for the advice on the shower thing," she yawns, pushing brown curls from her forehead before letting her arm plop down in front of her.

"You're welcome, poppet," he smiles, moving to shut the door.

"And Matty?"

Desperately wanting to go join Alex in the shower, Matt huffs silently, but pokes his head back into the room.

"Yes?"

"I love you," she says, accompanied by another yawn.

All traces of semi-irritation gone, Matt smiles at the now-sleeping child and whispers, "I love you, too, sweetheart."

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for commenting! I wrote the first part and Britney wrote the other two. Chapter title from Blue October's Calling You.

Hold me just a little bit longer

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

They've been packing up boxes all morning, wrapping some things very carefully in newspaper and just tossing in others, taping them up and stacking them by the door. When lunchtime rolls around, they're both tired and starving.

Alex looks up at him from the middle of her bedroom floor, clothes, books and papers strewn all around her, and bites her lip hopefully. "If I call for Chinese, will you go and pick it up? It's just down the street."

Matt sighs, glancing down at his ratty t-shirt and paint-splattered jeans – which were entirely Salome's fault. "Fine." He tosses the packing tape onto the bed and reaches into his pocket. "I've only got five, though."

"My handbag is on the counter in the kitchen," she says; already back to sorting through papers. "There should be a twenty in there somewhere."

Matt salutes mockingly, even though she isn't looking, and goes off to hunt for money. The Chinese restaurant isn't actually 'just down the street' unless you count two blocks away as being so. Matt takes Alex's car and waits in line for nearly twenty minutes before he's carrying out their food in a big plastic bag – with extra egg rolls in case Salome wants some when she gets home from school.

He smiles as he turns onto Alex's street again. It's Salome's last day in school here before she and Alex move back to London – permanently. Alex had been afraid Salome would be upset about leaving, but the girl has been so excited about living with 'Matty' and going to school with Steven's boys that she hasn't even minded leaving Los Angeles behind.

Matt had tried to tell Alex that she didn't have to leave, that he would move after Doctor Who was over, or commute or do whatever he needed to do in order to make things work, but Alex had been insistent. Work was more abundant in England, anyway, she'd said. So they were packing up what would fit in boxes and shipping them to London.

Matt has never been so thrilled in his life – his girls under the same roof with him every day and every night, like a real family.

They are his family now.

When he pulls in the driveway, there's an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house, but he doesn't think much of it. Alex's friends have been dropping by all morning to say a last goodbye before she moves, all of them lamenting how much they're going to miss her on karaoke nights. It isn't until he steps inside the house and has placed the food on the kitchen counter that he realizes it isn't a friend parked outside.

Voices raised in anger are coming from down the hall, where Alex's bedroom is. Matt frowns, walking quietly to the doorway of the kitchen and pausing to listen carefully.

"Seriously, what is this, Alex? Are you trying to feel young again? Because this is getting ridiculous. If this is some kind of mid-life crisis, couldn't you just buy a damn convertible or spend too much on a pair of shoes?"

Alex's voice reaches him, strained and irritated, and Matt has to stop himself from going to her. "Matt is not the result of a mid-life crisis, Florian."

Ah, the ex-husband.

"It's fine if you can't accept that I love him but -"

"Oh, for God's sake, Alex! He's a child! What could you possibly have in common?"

"He is not a child! He's a grown man who loves me and our daughter, and treats me with more respect than you ever did."

Matt smiles, leaning his head against the wall and feeling pride well up in him. Oh, when Florian leaves, he is going to snog the living daylights out of her.

Their voices are suddenly too low to hear but if Matt listens closely, he can make out the sound of their quiet arguing. Florian says something with a harsh growl and then there's nothing. Whatever he said, it hadn't been good. The shocked silence emanating from the bedroom is palpable.

When Alex responds, her voice is louder than before and she sounds like she's on the verge of

tears. Matt fights every single instinct screaming at him to march down the hallway and shove Florian's head against the wall until it's nothing but a red stain on the light blue paint. "I am not with him because of that. I even pushed him away because I wanted him to have what I couldn't give him."

Matt shuts his eyes and grimaces. The memory of those long six months still stings, and he has no desire to relive it. Not when reality is so much better now.

"Well that certainly didn't last long," Florian points out gruffly. "And now you're taking my daughter halfway across the world - "

"She's my daughter too, you know! And we've talked about this! I told you that you could visit her whenever you like! She's even staying with you for part of the summer. You talk on Skype every night when she's away – it's not like I'm trying to keep her away from you, Florian!"

"What the hell am I supposed to think, Alex? You're ripping her out of a school with friends she loves and dragging her off to live in London because you've found a pretty young boy toy you want to have in your bed!"

"Stop it," Alex says, voice tight. "You know I love Matt. And if you ever paid any attention to your daughter -"

"You think I don't pay attention to my daughter?"

"I know you don't, because if you did then you'd know she's so excited to move she can barely talk of anything else!"

A loud crash from the bedroom is immediately followed by Florian's angry snarl, "Don't you dare try and tell me I don't love my daughter. I'm not the one putting her through a media firestorm for the sake of an affair that'll be over in a month when he finds someone younger!"

That's enough. Matt can't make himself stand there and do nothing any longer. Stalking down the corridor with red in his vision and his blood like fire in his veins, Matt slams the door to the bedroom open, relishing the way Florian flinches when it crashes loudly against the wall.

On the floor are the shards of the flower pot Florian must have knocked over in his anger, and bits of pottery and clods of dirt are scattered all over Alex's books and clothes still littering the floor.

Florian looks at him like Matt has no right to be in the same house, let alone the same room but Alex has been crying and Matt has never wanted to hurt someone as much as he wants to hurt Florian then.

Jaw clenched and hands balled into fists at his sides, Matt grits out, "Raise your voice at her like that one more time and I'll hit you so hard your ears will ring, mate."

Florian stares.

Matt takes a step forward and gestures with one sharp, jerky motion toward the door. "Until you can talk to her with a bit of respect, I suggest you get the hell out."

Like he can't believe Matt's audacity, Florian turns to look at Alex, but she turns away from him, wiping at her eyes. As if finally understanding that their argument might have gone too far, he deflates, nodding. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'll-I'll call you tomorrow."

Alex nods, still not facing him.

Florian sighs but begins to walk toward the door without another word, offering Matt a small frown as he leaves. The front door slams behind him and the house is suddenly eerily quiet. Matt doesn't move from the doorway, watching Alex square her shoulders and turn to face him.

"You okay?" He asks softly.

She meets his eyes and he feels himself get angry all over again when he sees how red hers are. "I'm fine, love. You didn't need to do that." She sighs, sniffling. "I've been rowing with Florian since before we were married. I can take care of myself."

"I know that," he says, walking further into the room and coming to stand before her. It's one of the things he loves about her. Alex doesn't depend on anyone but herself. But Matt wants to be someone she can rely on - always. He cups her cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over her skin. "Doesn't mean you always have to, though."

Alex wraps her arms around him, hugging him so tightly that he wonders if she knows just how angry he'd been. "You're rather wonderful, you know."

Matt smiles despite himself, remembering the first time she'd said those words – sick with the flu and woozy from medicine. It seems like ages ago. "Ah, and this time without the help of medication. You spoil me, Kingston."

Laughing, Alex pulls away to smile up at him. He can still see where she'd been crying but she looks happy now, like any thoughts of her ex-husband are miles away and Matt is the reason why. Leaning up, she threads her fingers into the hair at the back of his head and yanks him down, pressing her lips to his. The kiss is hard and open -mouthed, and Matt returns it with an eagerness that frightens him. He wants to be as close to her as possible but he doesn't think even bones on bones would be enough so he just kisses her harder instead, gripping her hips so tight that it will leave finger shaped bruises for days.

Breathless and panting, Alex pulls away from his mouth and begins to nip at his collarbone. Matt groans, pressing rough kisses into her hair, across her forehead, over her eyes, anywhere and everywhere. He could have all of her and it would never be enough.

"Alex," he pants, remembering. "Lunch. Kitchen."

"Full sentences, darling," she says, biting his neck quite viciously and then soothing the mark with a stroke of her hot tongue.

He feels his legs turn to jelly and he pulls her tighter against him. "You were hungry," he finally manages between breathless growls. "It'll get cold."

"Microwave," she says, gripping his t-shirt in her fists and pushing him toward the bed. Matt falls on top of the mattress and shoves aside a box and a roll of packing tape, watching with wide eyes as Alex crawls on top of him, thighs falling open around his waist.

"Oh yes," he says, letting his head fall back against the pillows. "Bloody love a microwave."

Pulling Alex down to him so that they're pressed chest to chest, he kisses her fiercely, burying his hands in her hair. She whimpers into his mouth and rolls her hips against him, making him gasp sharply against her lips. Sliding his hands up her thighs and under her thin sundress, he presses his fingers against her damp knickers. Alex tears her mouth from his to moan into his neck and shift her thighs further apart, encouraging him.

Smirking, Matt nips at her jaw and rubs his thumb lightly against her clit through the lace of her

knickers. Hips jerking forward into his touch, Alex clutches at him, hands gripping his t-shirt in tight fists as she gasps.

"Stop teasing me," she whines and he laughs, lifting his head to claim her lips again. She melts into their kiss, sighing, and when her grip on his t-shirt slackens, Matt pushes aside her knickers and slides his fingers against her slick heat.

Alex sinks her teeth into his bottom lip and tugs, lifting her hips off his lap just enough to give him room to maneuver. Circling her entrance just for the sheer satisfaction he gets from feeling her so very wet just from his touch, Matt shifts on the bed to ease the pressure in his trousers.

The scratchy denim of his jeans brushes the inside of Alex's thighs and she makes a soft noise of frustration, rutting against him. "Matt," she breathes out when he allows one finger to slip inside her. She drops her head to his chest and pants while her inner muscles clench around even that small invasion. "Please. Need you."

At her breathless words, his stomach flip-flops and he nods frantically, just as eager to be inside her as she is to be filled. At his consent, Alex sits up and undoes the button on his trousers with shaking fingers. She pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers and strokes the velvet skin, pumping her hand up and down once, then twice.

Matt bites his lip and squeezes his eyes shut, whimpering. "Oh god, Alex," he gasps out. "Now."

"Yes," she hisses, and reaching beneath her dress to push aside her knickers, she sinks down on his hard length with a loud moan.

Eyes open wide now, Matt watches with an unfocused gaze as Alex wiggles her hips until he's seated as deep inside her as he can be. Cheeks flushed and eyes bright, she no longer looks like the emotionally distraught woman who just fought with her ex-husband. In her cotton sundress and her blonde curls tumbling past her shoulders as she throws her head back, Alex looks wanton, divine, perfect and she is his. She begins to lift herself up and down over his erection, her small hands pressing into his chest for leverage. Gone are the tears in her eyes and now all he sees is the love she feels for him and the mindless pursuit of pleasure.

She fits around him like a glove – all tight, searing warmth – and he tells her so, sliding his hands up her thighs and beneath her dress as he whispers just what she does to him, how she feels around him, and just how incredible she looks. Mouth open and breath coming in gasps, Alex meets his eyes with startling intensity.

Encouraged by the blatant desire in her eyes, he keeps up a steady stream of filthy litany murmured in a low voice, while under her dress, his fingers dig into her bare skin. Matt twists his hips just so and hits just the right spot to make Alex throw her head back, keening.

She looks gorgeous – sweat-slicked and happy in his arms – but he still can't forget the way she looked when he barged into the room earlier. The tears in her eyes and the way her voice had caught in her throat. The idea that she's used to fighting with Florian does not ease his mind, because that means there was a time when he couldn't be there to pick up the pieces afterward. She'd been on her own, upset and with no one to hold her. The thought is enough to make him pull her down to him, and he captures her lips in a fierce kiss, silently promising to be better than that, to make her happier than she's ever been. She'll never be treated with disrespect ever again. He'll make sure of it.

Above him, Alex's thighs begin to tremble with the effort of riding him and she clenches her inner muscles around his cock. He groans and bucks against her, his grip on her hips bruising. "Fuck," he swears, and Alex smiles breathlessly against his mouth.

The feel of her tightening around him is too much and Matt feels his control starting to slip. Quickly, he slips one hand from her hip to her clit, finding her soaking wet. He circles his thumb around the swollen bundle of nerves and Alex shouts, so close to the edge and so very sensitive.

Swiftly, Matt sits up so that Alex straddles his lap and her chest brushes against his every time she rocks her hips. Eyes half-lidded, Alex finds his mouth with hers, kissing him hard, and it's nothing but teeth and tongues, soft moans and grasping fingers. Sliding his hands from her hips and around to her bum, Matt digs his fingers into the soft flesh and pulls her flush against him. Alex bites her lip, gripping the hair at the back of his head as she raises herself over him.

"Come on, Alex," he says through gritted teeth. "So bloody close. Come for me, sweetheart."

Curls sticking to her forehead and a red flush high on her cheeks, Alex begins to constrict around him, her eyes unfocused and glazed over as she loses herself in the fast-approaching wave of pleasure.

Unable to hold off his own orgasm any longer, Matt grips her arse in one hand and uses the other to press his thumb hard against her clit just as he spills inside her with her name like a shouted prayer on his lips. Alex crumples with scream, lovely and glorious as her cunt tightens around his length, pulling the last of his release from him as she collapses into his heaving chest, her head on his shoulder.

Utterly sated and drowsy, Matt wraps his arms around her and lowers them both back onto the

mattress, reclining amongst the pillows. Splayed across his chest and panting, Alex grins into his skin and presses tiny, weak kisses against his collarbone. Matt presses his lips to the top of her head. "I love you," he says, because he can never make love to her and not say it. This time, they'd been a little too frantic for sentiment, but that doesn't mean he can't still say it afterward.

Alex presses a soft kiss to the spot just below his ear. "I love you too."

After that, they lie together in silence for a while, calming their racing hearts and waiting for that blissful afterglow to fade. For Matt, he finds that it doesn't ever really go away. Being with Alex is like one permanent afterglow. He would tell her so if he didn't think she'd laugh and call him cheesy. He's still working on making her believe him when he says things like that – she's not used to a man being an utter sap just because he is one and not because he wants something. Yet another misconception he plans to rid her of.

Once she regains her breath, Alex observes with amusement, "We didn't even get undressed."

Frowning, Matt glances down at their intertwined bodies. Alex is still in her sundress and her now ruined knickers and he's still wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. Feeling like a randy teenager and surprised by how little he cares, Matt begins to laugh, the sound cheerful and carefree in Alex's sunlit bedroom. Rolling over, he pulls Alex with him and she curves her body into his easily.

"Alex Kingston," he says with a sigh, still smiling as he presses his face into her hair. "What have you done to me?"

XxX

Later on in the day, when Salome has come home from school and the nasty memory of Florian coming by has been washed away with deliberate touches and passionate kisses, Matt escorts his two favorite ladies outside and into Alex's vehicle. He won't tell them where they're going and not knowing is driving Alex mad. Matt is absolutely enjoying it, though. The frustration he causes her makes her scrunch up her nose in the most adorable manner, like when she can't remember her lines. Salome has no qualms about not knowing, however, obviously excited for a surprise.

The car ride, though not long in length, is spent with Matt shooting down each and every one of Alex's guesses at where they could possibly be going – including Hollywood, a museum, a store and so on. Salome laughs at her mother each time she gets shot down, and Alex grumbles something about being teamed up against.

Matt just smiles the whole time, basking in the moment. The minutes spent with Alex and Salome are the most precious of his day, no matter what is going on. Whether they're bickering about television, or what's for dinner, or playing tag in the backyard or simply relaxing in silence, these moments are everything.

Because he sometimes can't help but remember his days without them – the wretched nights spent not sleeping or the days spent doing as little as possible, just to get through. Hours, minutes, seconds spent without the woman he loves, so much, or the child who means more to him than he ever thought possible.

But he's here now; holding Alex's hand as he navigates her car through the streets and listens to Salome list all the things she's excited for when they move into Matty's home. He's here, when he never thought it possible.

And he's doing something he never thought he could do in a million years.

Finally pulling into a small parking lot, Matt grins over at Alex with all the joy he feels, all of the silent adoration and oh-so-obvious love, and motions for her to get out of the car. She does so slowly, coming to stand by her daughter, who has already jumped out of the car before either of them, and they stare at Matt expectantly.

"A park," Alex says. She looks around them, squinting against the harsh light of the sun, still high in the air. "Hollenbeck Park."

"Why are we here, Matty?" Salome asks, smiling brightly and bouncing on her heels.

Matt bites his lip, spreading his arms out wide around him and spins. "We're having a picnic!"

Salome squeals in delight, following his example and twirling around, causing the hem of her purple and white sundress to fan out around her legs. Matt stops to check Alex's reaction, and she's smiling at him with a faint gloss to her eyes. And that smile is so breathtaking, so beautiful that his heart twists and he realizes he's done well.

"How about you and your mum go pick a spot for us to set up while I get the things from the trunk, eh, poppet?" Matt suggests, bending down to bop Salome's nose once she's become too dizzy to continue spinning.

"All right, come on mom!" The young girl shouts, quickly grabbing her mother's hand and leading her toward the grassy areas. He watches them go, smiling back at Alex when she turns her head to blow him a kiss. Yes, these are definitely the moments he lives for.

XxX

After Salome and Alex have chosen a spot in between two very large trees offering lots of shade and talk of enrolling Salome in a school near London once they get back, Matt begins to dish out the sandwiches and snacks he'd prepared, smiling at Alex when she looks at him in surprise.

"What? A picnic without food is unheard of!" Matt defends, passing her a tuna sandwich and a Sunny D.

"How long, exactly, have you been planning this?" Alex asks suspiciously, taking the proffered items and watching as her daughter picks out her sandwich and drink.

"To be quite honest with you, since we decided I'd come to LA with you to help you pack."

Her chuckle floats in the air around them and when their eyes meet again, hers have that same gloss he'd seen earlier. He tries not to feel the pride well up in his chest, knowing he'll slip up and she'll blame him for needing an "ego boost," but he can't help it. He's making her happy, and that feeling is so wonderful.

"I don't know how many times I am going to have to tell you this, but Mr. Smith, you are quite brilliant," Alex admits, shaking her head with a smile.

Matt smirks and glances to Salome, who is watching them with interest as she digs into her turkey sandwich.

"General Salome," he starts, with a deep, serious voice. He watches in amusement as she sits up straighter and gives him a silent nod to continue. "Permission to kiss your mum, Ma'am?"

She makes a face, but quickly tries to hide it as she begins to turn her body away from them. "Permission granted, soldier."

At that, Alex laughs out loud, placing her sandwich down on the blanket and tugging Matt toward her by the collar of his shirt. He kisses her open mouthed, all the while grinning like a madman. She returns the kiss with a quick swipe of her tongue and a nip at his lip, before pulling away.

"What exactly have you been teaching my daughter?" She asks, rubbing her nose against his, letting him go reluctantly. Salome turns back around, smug look on her face.

She doesn't give Matt time to explain, simply saying, "He didn't teach me anything, Mom. It was me who taught him who's boss."

Matt and Alex share a look of equal befuddlement before Matt begins to laugh so hard tears spring to his eyes. He tackles Salome, tickling her sides with fervor, laughing harder when her feet try to kick him away. Alex joins him, pinning Salome's legs down while ticking her bare feet.

After a while, Salome is in desperate need of breath and Matt and Alex have grown tired. The trio lies exhausted on the ground, staring up into the leaves of the trees and the occasional glimpse of blue sky. Matt rolls over, crawling on all fours to the basket he packed. He reaches behind it, between the basket and the trunk of one of the trees, and pulls out a brown square package.

"Poppet," he calls out, still slightly breathless. Salome sits up; chest heaving and red face half glaring at him, half curious. "I got you a little something."

She's next to him in a flash, reaching for the box in his hands excitedly. She opens the package and then looks at him in confusion, obviously not understanding what it's supposed to be and he smiles.

"It's a kite. Like the one in your painting," he explains. "We just need to put it together before you can use it."

"Oh! Thank you, so much, Matty!" She cries, flinging her arms around his neck to hug him. He looks over her shoulder at Alex, who rolls her eyes. She's smiling, too, though, so he's obviously not in trouble.

There's a lot of that happening today, isn't there? A lot of smiles.

It's a good day.

Matt helps Salome put her kite together, grinning every time she says, "Oh, I get it," when he explains where something should go. She doesn't do much assembling, however. More watching and nodding than anything.

In no time, she's got the kite in the air and Alex takes her turn to show Salome how to control the string. Once she's got the hang of it, Alex returns to where Matt sits munching on an apple on the blanket.

She leans down and places a kiss to his forehead, whispering, "Thank you."

"For what?" He asks, grinning around his apple.

"For making today one of the best days of my life," she beams, sitting down next to him and curling into his side. "And hers."

"I promised you a picnic," he says simply, kissing the top of her head. She turns her face up towards his, kissing his lips softly.

"And you waited until we were in LA, where less people know us. And you made the lunches and bought Salome a kite. You even Google'd parks in Los Angeles to figure out where to take us and how to get there."

"Hey! How do you know I Google'd parks?" He pouts, desperately fighting the urge to bury his hands in her hair.

"How else would you know how to get here, hm?" She points out with a giggle. He sighs, rolling his eyes and pressing another kiss to her mouth.

For a while, they sit like that, watching Salome bound across the grass and play with her new, pretty purple kite. Occasionally, but not very often, someone will come up and ask for an autograph, having recognized them from one thing or another, though mostly her, for her time in ER. When Salome comes trotting back to the blanket, clearly exhausted, dragging her kite behind her, Matt suggests they leave. Both mother and daughter reject his suggestion, Salome settling for lying on the blanket and closing her eyes, humming some unknown tune. It isn't long before she falls asleep, snoring softly with her wild hair splayed out around her head.

"She's such a great kid," Matt says to Alex, who is still pressed against his side. Her head is on his shoulder and he wonders at why he hasn't gotten a response. He glances down at her face and finds that she has fallen asleep as well. Gently, he leans back against the tree, settling them into a more comfortable position. Eyes on the sky and hands in hers, Matt breathes out a thank you of his own. To Alex, to Salome, to whatever deity exists.

He's just thankful for these beautiful moments.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for the comments! For this chapter, I wrote the first part and Britney wrote the other two. Chapter title from She and Him's Sweet Darlin. And we're only two chapters away from the end!

Take my whole life too

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Matt grimaces, glancing into his closet and back to the multitude of boxes littering his bedroom. Together, he and Alex had decided on a list of new items they'd need for his home in order for them to live together.

New bed. Check.

New couch – his was worn and old and hers had been a rental. Check.

Closet space? Not quite.

"Uh, Alex, love," Matt starts, frowning at her from his stance in front of the closet.

"Yes, dear?" Alex inquires as she prepares to open one of the impending boxes of clothes. He's distracted for a moment by the way her gorgeous bum sways as she bends over, those black spandex shorts hugging her backside perfectly and her white tank riding up her stomach.

Coming back to himself (and mentally shouting at his betraying cock) he clears his throat and says, "I don't think we have enough space for your clothes."

Alex stands and turns to him with a questioning look, "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, almost imperceptibly, and motions to the closet. With a sigh, Alex comes to stand next to him, peering into the crowded closet.

"Bloody hell," she exclaims, gaping at him with incredulous eyes. "How the hell did you make this work with Daisy?"

Helpless, Matt shrugs again, flailing his arms about him in an attempt to motion to his room. "I don't know! She had dressers, and an armoire thingy!"

Grimacing when she glares at him for almost hitting her with his hand, he gulps down his wave of fear at his girlfriend and wishes he had thought of this sooner.

"Mr. Smith," Alex says, slightly humorous and mostly venomous, "I do believe you'll be making some purchases."

"Yes, ma'am," he squeaks.

XxX

A few hours (and a few very nice dressers and an armoire) later, Matt and Alex have moved onto unpacking her bathroom supplies. Their purchases won't be delivered until the following morning, so they've pushed her clothes aside to save for later.

They work in silence, considering the last time he opened his mouth it was only to be the bearer of bad news. He wishes to keep his glares from her to a minimum today, because he rather likes it when she's happy with him at the end of the day.

He likes that she's here, with him, living in his home. They have already set up Salome's room (what used to be his storage room). It's a nice light shade of purple, with butterfly stickers adorning the walls, as well as a few of her (and their) favorite paintings. The thought of having both his girls with him is enough to make his heart turn over with happiness.

After everything they've gone through, together and apart, they deserve this. They deserve to be sitting here in his bathroom, playing footsie while unloading toiletries, waiting for Salome to be dropped off by the bus in a few hours and simply loving each other.

"Wait, not that box!" Alex suddenly shouts, reaching for the smaller sized box Matt was about to tear into.

Raising a brow, Matt snatches the cardboard back into his chest and asks, "Why not?"

Instead of answering, Alex begins scrambling towards him on all fours, giving him a glorious view of her braless cleavage. She takes advantage of his distraction, grabbing the box and making a run for it, though nearly tripping over his gangly leg in the process. She makes it out of the

bathroom and halfway out of the bedroom before he's in pursuit, chasing her throughout the house, all the while asking what could be in that bloody box that she didn't want him to see.

"It's not that I don't want you to see it," she says, exasperated, as they take a break on either side of the kitchen island. "It's that I don't want you to see it right now."

Rolling his eyes, Matt steps to the left. He frowns when Alex retaliates with a move to the right, the box hanging loosely from her grip. She's trapped between him and the back of the house, and he likes to think this makes her odds just a little worse.

"Alex-"

But she's off again, dashing to the left when he goes right, and back towards the bedroom. He's hot on her tail, but this time, in a moment of desperation, she slams the door shut. Matt's reaction time, however, is lacking and he runs face (nose) first into it.

"Bloody fuckin' hell!" He cries, falling back onto his arse and holding his nose tightly. His eyes begin to water and the throbbing pain throughout his nose is unrelenting. A warm wetness fills his palm and he grunts, becoming faintly lightheaded.

"Oh my god!" Alex exclaims, yanking the door open – empty handed, he manages to notice – and rushing to kneel beside him. Her curls brush across his hand and for some reason it hurts his frantic nerves. "Are you alright!?"

"No!" He whines, the words muffled by his red palm.

"I'm so, so sorry, baby. Hold on, stay right here."

Not given much choice, Matt sits in the middle of his hallway, nose bloody and eyes watering (no, he is not crying, no matter what Alex says later) while he waits for Alex to return. He can hear cupboards opening and closing, the sound of running water, and the sound of the freezer slamming shut. Another minute or so passes while he wishes for sleep before she's back by his side, laying out an array of items. First, the washcloth to wipe away the blood. Next are the tissues to shove up his nose. And then the little white pill (he doesn't bother to ask what it is; he trusts her) and a glass of water, for the pain. Lastly, a bag of peas for the swelling.

After she's finished caring for him, she looks at him with a pout and asks, meekly, "Are you

angry?"

"I don't know," he gripes, and now he sounds nasally. Great. He preferred the muffled sound to this. "Every issue I have ever had with a door seems to stem from you."

"It's not my fault you're clumsy!"

He looks at her skeptically.

"Okay, your issue with doors maybe has something to do with me. I love you, though, so that should make it better."

"I love you, too, pet," Matt sighs, shifting to his feet slowly, still feeling dizzy. "I do, however, think I should know what was in that box. It's only fair."

He's surprised when she doesn't hesitate: "My rabbit."

"You're kidding me, right? All this because you didn't want me to open the box with your bloody dildo in it?" He nearly shouts, sounding horrible with these tissues shoved up his nostrils.

She grimaces, leading him to the living room with a hand at the small of his back. "It's not clean."

"I don't… bloody hell, I just want to take a nap."

"Okay, keep the peas on your nose and I'll wake you up for dinner." Alex offers, pulling the duvet off the back of the couch as he lays down on it.

"Yes, ma'am," he mumbles, world already losing itself to sleep.

XxX

"Mom!" Salome calls out as she wanders down the hall. She pauses to kick off her shoes and drop her book bag in her room, before continuing her trek towards her mother's new room. She watches as her mother pops her head out of her door, hair pulled back and sweat dripping from her forehead.

"Yes, princess?" Alex questions, wiping some of said sweat from her brow.

"Why is Matty asleep on the couch with a bag of peas on his face?" Salome asks innocently, rocking on her heels with her hands behind her back.

"Oh, I slammed a door in his face," her mother says nonchalantly.

A look of horror flashes across the young girl's face as she begins to assume the worst. "Did you two fight? Are we leaving?"

Alex laughs, shaking her head and stepping out of the bedroom. "No, honey. He was just trying to look in Mummy's off limits box and I panicked."

Nerves officially soothed, Salome nods. They stand there for a moment, just looking at one another, before she speaks up, "What's in your off limits box, exactly?"

"Not you, too!" Alex cries, burying her face in her hands.

Giggling, Salome shrugs. "I'll just go, you know, do my homework," she says before scurrying off to her bedroom.

XxX

When dinner is ready, Alex places a hot bowl of soup on the coffee table in front of the sofa and looks down at Matt, still sleeping soundly. He looks peaceful like that, a combination of the man he really is – beautiful and strange – and the man-child who can't seem to sit still. She adores both the man and his frequent childishness, so she smiles a little when she realizes that while he looks relatively adult-like, he's clutching his blanket to him in his sleep.

Perching on the edge of the sofa, she runs her fingers gently through his hair and bites her lip, guilt

flooding through her. She might have overreacted a bit earlier – she just isn't used to being so open and sharing these sorts of things. Her off limits box has always been just that – off limits to everyone but her. Things are different with Matt, though. She wants to share everything. It's just hard to control that first knee-jerk reaction.

Leaning down, Alex presses a soft kiss to his forehead and rubs her thumb gently over his cheekbone. Poor darling – she's always hurting him somehow. Matt stirs at her touch, eyes blinking open to regard her blearily. She smiles down at him tentatively, hoping he isn't still cross with her. It's their first "official" night with her moved into his place and she doesn't want to spend it separately because Matt is clumsy and she's too guarded.

"Hey," she whispers, still threading her fingers through his hair. "How are you feeling?"

Matt doesn't answer right away, either taking the time to assess how he feels or just too sleepy to respond instantly. "Better," he finally says, voice scratchy with sleep.

Alex takes the bag of peas and bloodied tissues from his hand and places them on the coffee table, leaning close to inspect the damage she's done. "I think it's okay," she says after a moment. "Just a bit swollen." Biting her lip hard, she watches him closely as he rubs at his eyes.

"What are you looking so glum for?" He asks, stretching out on the sofa with a yawn.

Alex adjusts the blanket around him and avoids his eyes. "I'm just sorry," she says quietly. "I really didn't - "

"Alex, look at me," Matt orders.

Sighing, she meets his gaze timidly and finishes her sentence. "I really didn't mean to hurt you."

"Of course you didn't," he says, scoffing. "It was an accident, pet."

Alex starts to look down again, fiddling with his blanket, but Matt places a hand over hers and forces her to look at him again. "You're not angry?" She asks and she absolutely hates the way her voice shakes. She really is rubbish at this – it's going to take some practice, being so open.

Sensing her distress, Matt pulls himself up on the sofa and reaches for her, pulling her into his arms. Alex curls up around him and buries her face in his neck, breathing steadily as his hands run up and down her back. "I'm not angry," he says into her ear. "I mean, it hurt like hell but I'm fine. And even if you'd broken my nose, I'd still want to take you to bed tonight and have my way with you."

Alex snorts into his neck, smiling against his skin. "You forgive me, then?"

Matt drops a kiss into her hair. "Nothing to forgive, sweetheart."

Sighing contentedly, Alex closes her eyes and breathes him in. "We're rubbish at this rowing thing."

"I think we've done enough of that to last us for a while," he says.

"True," she agrees, opening her eyes and sitting up to meet his gaze. "But we've never really been the type to argue, have we? Before, I mean."

Matt smiles and twirls a curl of her hair around his finger, watching it bounce back into place. "Not about anything more than what to watch on telly and who's going to be on top."

Grinning, Alex leans into him until her nose is brushing gently against his. "Match made in heaven," she sighs.

Instead of replying, Matt slips his hand into her hair and pulls her closer, pressing his lips to hers. Alex lets him lead, just glad he isn't cross with her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she presses herself close to him, almost straddling his lap as she surrenders herself to his kiss. Matt slips a hand beneath her shirt, his fingers warm on the skin of her back.

Whimpering a little into his mouth, Alex almost forgets there is a child in the house until she hears a disgusted voice behind her grumble, "Ew!"

Quickly pulling away and scrambling off Matt's lap, Alex turns to her daughter with wide eyes. "I thought you were doing your homework."

Salome frowns at her. "You called me in for dinner."

Behind her, Matt snorts. Without looking, Alex tosses a pillow at his head. "Did I? Well, it's on the table, love."

"If I bring it in here, can we watch X-Factor?" Salome asks hopefully, still watching them both like they might start snogging again any moment.

"Course you can, poppet," Matt says, tossing her the remote. "You live here now too, you know."

Salome beams at this, like she'd forgotten, and dances off to the kitchen to get her bowl of soup.

Chucking the pillow back to her, Matt complains, "We're going to have to have a talk about your instinctive aggression, Kingston or you're going to be suspected of domestic violence."

Ignoring him, Alex raises an eyebrow and says, "Have I Got News For You is on. You're going to miss it."

Matt shrugs.

"You love that show," she points out.

"And Salome loves X-Factor," he retaliates. "Gotta compromise, Kingston."

Glancing behind her to make sure Salome isn't watching, Alex quickly leans in and kisses him. "You're brilliant," she says, smiling at him.

"I'm hungry," Matt eyes the soup on the table and then looks back to her with a very impressive pout. "Feed me?"

Alex laughs. "I hit your nose, not your hands."

"Well yeah, but I'm weak from blood loss," he says, managing to somehow look pathetic, blanket wrapped around him and bottom lip sticking out adorably. "You can't possibly expect me to lift a spoon to my mouth or have decent hand-to-mouth coordination."

Picking up the bowl from the coffee table, Alex looks suitably disappointed. "Oh, does this mean no celebratory "all moved in" sex later? Wouldn't want you to faint in the middle of it from weakness. Or embarrass yourself with bad coordination."

Matt just grins at her. "I expect to make a full recovery by then."

"Of course you do," she sighs, bringing the spoon to his lips and indulging him just this once because no matter what he says, she still feels guilty. And his pout is damn near irresistible.

Salome wanders back into the room with her bowl and plops herself onto the sofa next to Alex. With a mischievous grin, she asks, "Mom, can you feed me too?"

"Oi!" Matt says, frowning. "I got here first."

"Did not!" Salome giggles.

The sound of X-Factor starting has them both stopping in the middle of their teasing – Salome to watch the telly with rapt attention and Matt to open his mouth wide for another bite. Laughing, Alex gives him another spoonful and murmurs just low enough for him to hear, "I expect compensation for my services later, Mr. Smith."

Chewing enthusiastically, Matt beams at her through a mouthful as Salome snuggles further into her side, giggling at Simon Cowell. In that moment, they feel so much like a family that Alex's heart is full to bursting. They are a family, aren't they?

Maybe a strange family to anyone else, but Alex wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for the comments and much love to Charina for being our beta! For this chapter, I wrote the last scene and Britney wrote the rest. Chapter title comes from Ingrid Michaelson's cover version of Only Fools Rush In. One more chapter and we're finished:)

Love all through our bodies

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It had been Matt's idea to have Karen and Arthur over for dinner tonight – though he claimed Karen had been pestering him endlessly about visiting, saying she wanted to see what Matt's place looked like when there were two children living there instead of just one. At that, Alex had laughed herself silly and Matt had sulked for an hour.

It's been a rather nice evening, though, all things considered. Matt had helped her cook, Salome had set the table and when Karen and Arthur arrived, they'd had a lovely dinner with red wine for them and a fizzy drink for Salome. It had been just like a lunch break on set except the food was better. They'd talked and laughed, Arthur had made a joke about Matt's chin, Matt had retaliated with a comment about his nose, and Karen had pretended to gag whenever Matt kissed Alex in front of her. It was all so comfortable and so easy. She never thought she would have this – especially with Matt.

At the moment, Matt, Karen and Salome have retired to the living room to play some sort of cryptic game with cards that Alex doesn't understand. She thinks Matt and Karen just make up the rules as they go along. Arthur is perusing their CD collection like the nosy thing he is, nodding with approval sometimes and snorting with derision at others. Alex wants to tell him that those Glee soundtracks aren't hers but she's pretty sure he wouldn't believe her anyway.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!"

"You're cheating!"

At the cries of protest from Karen and Salome, Alex leaves the biscuits baking in the oven and pokes her head out from the kitchen to see them holding their cards and glaring at Matt. They're all sitting in the floor around the coffee table, cards and drinks spread out in front of them.

"Am not!" Matt looks entirely too pleased with himself, grinning at them.

"You have to be," Karen insists. "There's no way you can win five times in a row!"

Matt laughs. "I can't help it I'm lucky."

"You're a clumsy disaster with limbs," Karen says. "You are not winning with luck, stupid face!"

"Oi! Uncalled for!"

As they continue to row, Salome huffs and tosses her cards onto the table, though she can't seem to keep a smile from twitching at the corners of her mouth. It seems staying angry with Matt is difficult for her too. Alex knows the feeling.

Spotting her lurking in the entryway to the living room, Matt's eyes light up and he jumps to his feet. "Alex, they're persecuting me for being a winner."

She laughs as he wraps his arms around her waist and nuzzles his face into her hair. "Poor baby," she says, cupping her hand around the back of his neck.

Karen and Salome make identical faces of distaste but Alex doesn't have time to respond before Matt is lifting her off her feet. She shrieks, laughing through her protests as he carries her by the waist over to the sofa and sits down with her, pulling her into his lap.

Pulling away to shove at his chest, she says, "You great idiot, couldn't you just ask me to sit down?"

He grins at her. "Ah, but what fun would that have been?"

"Mom," Salome whines, and Alex turns from Matt's pleased face to look at her. "Make him stop winning."

She shakes her head, smiling. "I can't, love. Why don't you play a different game?"

"Like what?"

"I know!" Karen scrambles to her feet and makes her way over to the board games stacked in the

corner of the room. Alex still hasn't managed to find a place for them. She needs to rearrange things in the hall closet and make space but she hasn't yet deemed it important enough to spend time on. Bending long legs at the knee, Karen kneels and angles her head awkwardly to read the titles. "Ah ha! This one!"

When Karen pulls the game out from the bottom of the stack and holds it up to the light, Alex laughs, Salome squeals in delight and Matt and Arthur groan in unison. "No," Matt protests. "Pretty Pretty Princess? That's a girl's game!"

Holding a Yeah Yeah Yeah's CD and perusing the song titles, Arthur says without looking up, "We're completely at a disadvantage here. I say unfair."

"And I agree," Matt says, holding up his hand. "Here here."

Alex nudges him and he winces. "Are you scared to play a little girl's game, Mr. Smith?"

"Scared I'll whip him," Salome says, smiling.

Matt points a finger at her, squinting. "Alright, poppet. You just wait. I'll beat you at any game you throw at me."

"Honestly," Alex says, rolling her eyes. "Is this what your life is now? Challenging little girls to board games?"

Matt frowns, looking disturbed. "Apparently."

Arthur joins them around the coffee table and helps Karen and Salome set up the game. Once everything is ready, the three of them force Matt and Alex apart because they can't play if they're too busy snogging. Salome seems to like the backup when it comes to limiting their public displays of affection.

By the middle of the game, Arthur is losing miserably and Matt and Salome are competing fiercely to get the crown. At this point in the game, no one but those two seem to care about winning. Arthur is organizing the jewelry by color and Karen is watching Matt and Salome bicker good-naturedly with her chin resting on her open palm.

When Alex spins and lands on a ring, she reaches for the jewelry box but Matt stops her with a hand on her arm. "Allow me, my lady," he says, with a wink and an over-the-top, gallant smile.

Alex rolls her eyes at him but says, "Very well, good sir."

At the moment, he's wearing three multi-colored necklaces and bracelets, with a plastic ring on each pinky. Alex wants to pull out her lipstick and put it on him, just to complete the look. She wonders if he'd let her, if she gave him another glass of wine. While she's contemplating it, Matt selects a pink ring from the box. He takes her hand and slides the ring onto her ring finger. It's too small to go past her knuckle but at the moment, she can't say she cares. Matt looks up and when his eyes meet hers, her breath catches in her throat. Suddenly, it isn't just a silly little game anymore and with the way he's looking at her, he seems to know it too.

It doesn't even feel odd. It just feels right. Everything about their life together feels right and Alex can't quite believe that they've made it work. It's all so very domestic with them and she didn't ever think it would be something Matt wanted, having a life stable enough to raise a child with her but he's taken to it like a duck to water. She's never been more grateful for him than when she sees him with her daughter, or when his arm slips around her in the night.

She hadn't been sure that living with Matt would work out very well in the end but it's better than she could have hoped for. He compromises with Salome when it comes to the television, he helps her with her homework, and he gets her to take a shower when Alex is too tired to argue with her. He's there when Alex wakes up in the morning, usually smiling at her from his pillow. He holds her hand in the street and in the car, he kisses her for no reason other than because he wants to, he helps her with dinner and distracts her from washing the dishes with open-mouthed kisses to the back of her neck and uncoordinated waltzing around the kitchen table. Matt has become everything to her and her daughter, and staring into his smiling eyes right then, Alex knows she wants nothing more than to spend the rest of her life this way.

Across the table, Arthur clears his throat pointedly and the spell is broken. Matt blinks, smiling widely at her and dropping a kiss to her hand. They turn back to the game as if nothing has happened, ignoring Karen's smirking face.

In another ten minutes, Matt has won the game, princess crown atop his head as he takes a bite of one of Alex's biscuits and gloats like a child.

"You really should not be so happy about being the prettiest princess," Alex says, watching him adjust his crown and preen.

"Really, mate," Arthur says with a frown. "It's unmanly."

Matt looks offended. "Oi, crowns are cool now!"

Laughing, Alex watches as Salome leans back on the floor and giggles at him, covering her face with her hand. She had thought her daughter would be miffed about losing but apparently seeing Matt in a princess crown is a win all its own.

"Alright," Arthur says, standing up and stretching. "I feel decidedly emasculated. You got a football about this place?"

Snorting, Karen says, "You're just pouting because you wanted to be a princess too, aren't you?" She pats him on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Darvill. You're a pretty princess on the inside."

Arthur glares at her. "I'm going to find a football and kick you in the face with it."

They continue to bicker as they all head outside to play football under the night sky and Alex shakes her head, watching them go. "Football's in the garage," she tells Matt, feeling him snake an arm around her waist from behind.

"You coming?"

She nods, turning around to face him and bursting into laughter when she sees he's still wearing all his jewelry – crown included. "You daft man. You can't play football in that."

"I know," he says, taking off the crown to inspect it admiringly. "I like it, though. I can see why you like being the princess when we -"

"Sshh," Alex covers his mouth with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at Salome, still fiddling with the board game. Leaning close, she brushes her lips against his jaw, smiling when he shivers against her. "Go play football and if you're very very good, I might let you be the princess tonight."

"Deal," Matt growls, leaning in to kiss her.

Before Alex can even get her arms around him to respond, he's letting go of her with a wink and striding across the room to Salome. He picks her up and swings her onto his back, laughing when she shrieks and giggles with protests.

"Matty, put me down!"

"Can't," he says, heading out the door with her. "I need you to be on my team, poppet."

Shaking her head in amusement, Alex turns to put Matt's crown back in the box. She'll wrestle all of the other jewelry off of him later tonight – should be interesting. With a broad grin, Alex heads outside to join her ridiculous little family on the lawn.

When Matt and Salome make it to the back yard, Karen and Arthur are already kicking the football around – how they managed to find it so quickly is beyond him. Karen is making a fool of herself as she tries to bounce it off her foot and nearly tripping herself in the process. He smiles at her clumsiness, bouncing Salome against his back. The young girl squeals loudly, tightening her grip around his neck.

"Up for a round, sweetheart?" He asks her, turning his head to smile at her adorably flushed cheeks.

Salome looks at him seriously for a moment. He always hates it when she does that. He never knows what to expect from her when she gets that face on. She tilts her head and asks, "Are you going to marry my mom, Matty?"

Matt stops short of the grass, staring at Salome with wide-eyes. He can feel his heart skip every other beat and the blood race through his veins with adrenaline. Marry Alex?

Marry Alex.

Marry Alex.

He can't say he understands what happens next because his mind is still reeling from Salome's out-of-the-blue question, but the next thing he knows, the ball has landed square in his midsection, causing him to bend forward. Salome falls from his back and onto the grass with a shriek and the force it has him tumbling to the ground next to her.

"Oh my god, are you okay!? I'm so sorry!" Karen screeches, rushing towards them. Mouth full of grass and body bent at an odd angle, Matt glances over to Salome, who is staring out at the sky above her with a befuddled expression. She slowly meets his eyes and they share a look of, 'what just happened?'

Ginger hair suddenly clouds his vision and he turns his head, rolling over onto his back and seeing Karen leaning over him, a concerned look on her face. He begins to chuckle and Salome joins him, their giggles quickly turning into full on bellied laughter.

Karen rolls her eyes, saying something to Arthur that he can't really hear over the sound his and Salome's combined laughter.

He's silently thankful for the painful blow to the stomach and the lack of air in his lungs, though.

What kind of question was that?

Shaking his head, he moves to stand and help the young girl to her feet. This time, actually paying attention to what's happening, they join in on the game. He doesn't answer her question and she doesn't bring it up again.

Though he has a feeling she might later, if she really wants an answer.

Matt throws himself into the game, pushing Arthur around and chuckling with him when they both stumble and Karen manages to get the ball from them. Salome does very well, for being new at it. She even ducks between his legs once, which surprises him when they don't even fall from the force of it.

It feels invigorating, goofing around with his good friends. They haven't really seen much of each other lately, and he's so very glad he had suggested this. He kicks the ball towards Salome, and turns to face the house. He sees Alex standing in the doorway, and he can make out the smile that graces her face.

"Are you going to marry my mom, Matty?"

A shiver lances down his spine, and he returns her smile with hesitation. Did Salome expect them to get married? Did he want to get married?

"Oi! Pay attention, airhead!" Karen shouts. Matt glances back to her, but she's already distracted again with trying to get the ball from Arthur, who's currently kicking the ball back and forth between his feet.

"Just go on without me," he tells them, before moving quickly towards Alex. She quirks a brow at him when he's close enough, but he just shrugs before kissing her. She responds immediately (god, he loves that), wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him closer. He's glad Salome is busy, because he really doesn't want to stop.

He slides his hands into her hair, as always marveling at the softness of her curls. She didn't use any hair products today, and his fingers filter through easily. A small moan escapes her throat and vibrates across his tongue, causing his skin to tighten.

When they pull away, she's smiling so brightly at him and his heart clenches at the sight.

"What was that for?" She asks, biting her lip. Her fingers play with the back of his shirt, the soft pads of her fingertips slipping underneath occasionally.

"Just because I love you," he shrugs, opting for the simple version.

'Just because you're amazing and you cause me to want to do crazy things for you. Just because I want to make sure you're still here with me, because I don't want to wake up in the next five minutes and figure out the past couple months have been a dream. Just because you mean the world to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.'

And he does, doesn't he? He wants to spend the rest of his life with this woman, just doing whatever to make her happy and keep her that way.

"Aren't you a big softy?" Alex laughs, kissing him again, just a press of their lips together. His eyes flutter shut, and he nuzzles her nose with his.

This is where he belongs, he knows. In her arms, in her life.

"I didn't think I needed a reason to kiss you," he murmurs against her lips, eyes opening to focus on hers again.

"Of course you don't, silly. It was just unexpected is all."

"I hope to take you off guard more often then, if it incites that smile," he says with a wink.

"I bet you will," Alex replies, a little breathlessly.

He thinks back to Salome's question – innocent enough for a ten-year-old, heavy enough to cause his heart to race at the thought of it. The thought of marrying Alex Kingston is not as highly scary as he is expecting it to be, though. As it should be. With his track record – the length of his record isn't what he's concerned about, but the content is – it should be entirely frightening.

But this is Alex.

Everything seems so much better with her. Even having his face personally meet the hard wood of a door, for example. Everything is just so much brighter. He has to admit he's become somewhat of a sap when it comes to her. Just standing here with her is enough to send his heart into a tailspin.

Especially with that little smile she's got, and that cocked hip, or the way her hair glows because of the light filtering out of the house they share. It all feels right.

And marrying her? Oh, that sounds perfect. Seeing a ring on her finger, every morning, and knowing she's his and he's hers in every sense of the word is honestly the best thought that has ever crossed his mind. Making her happy is his mission in life now, and he doesn't see that changing at all.

He wants to forever be there for her, for Salome. He's going to marry this woman someday.

He knows that right now they're taking it day by day, and he'd probably scare her away (again) if he did it anytime soon. But he thinks, one day, he will. He will take the time and pick out the right ring, probably with Salome's help. He'll book reservations at her favorite restaurant, for the three of them, and tell her it's "just because."

Just because everything.

And in that moment between the main course and dessert he will get down on one knee and hope for the best.

He doesn't imagine she'd give him any less. She never could. He likes to think he makes her as happy as she makes him, and if that idea is anything to go by, he isn't too afraid of getting a 'no' in return.

Coming back to himself, Matt kisses her again, cupping her face in his hands as he dominates her mouth. He puts everything into this kiss, and it leaves her breathless and staring at him with wide, slightly aroused, eyes.

"Oh, I will. Definitely," he finally agrees, offering her a giant smile. The sound of Karen, Arthur and Salome fighting over the ball reaches his ears, but his eyes never leave Alex's. Those green eyes that could burn a hole in his chest and heal it again, just like new. Without thinking, he says, "It's just you, you know that, right? It's always going to be you. You're my everything and this? This is perfect."

She bites her lip again, and he watches as her eyes rim red. That look used to bring him to his knees in effort to fix whatever wrong was bothering her. But now, right now, he knows this is a happy kind of tearing up. This is a, 'Oh my, could this get any better?' moment and she's right there with him.

"It's just you," she murmurs back.

They share a smile and he is overwhelmed, blown away, thrilled, because he is definitely marrying this woman and making them a proper family. Together, they're going to grow old and watch Salome grow up into a beautiful, successful woman. She's going to help him through all those mid-life crisis problems men tend to have and he's going to dash all her fears when she thinks she's not good enough.

Together, they could conquer the world.

But he's content with a simple life, though simplicity with Alex Kingston at his side is highly unlikely.

He wouldn't have it any other way.

Fin

Chapter End Notes

It's over! Thank you all so much for sticking with us through this massive fic. Haha We love you guys! Be on the lookout for oneshots that take place after this fic:) For this chapter, I wrote from Alex's point of view and Britney wrote from Matt's.

Chapter title from Five Years Time by Noah and the Whale. Thanks to Charina for being our beta!

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	6. Chapter 6

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/363931.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith, Daisy Lowe, Arthur Darvill, Karen Gillan

Stats:

Published: 2012-03-17 Completed: 2012-04-08 Chapters: 8/8 Words:

33685

 **It's Still You**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

Matt marries Daisy after all. It's Just You alternate universe.

Notes

For those of you who like to wallow in angst. Written entirely by Friday, but blame Brinney for the plot bunny.

Don't look back at this crumbling fool

And every time she looks at you and every time she smiles, don't forget I love you more.

– Wings of the Dove

If he loved you with all the power of his soul for a whole lifetime, he couldn't love you as much as I do in a single day.

– Wuthering Heights

It's over.

Somehow, he'd made it through the whole ceremony without forgetting his lines or bolting for the door. The urge to run had been strong but where did he have to go? The only place he wants to be is in Alex's arms and he knows that's never going to happen now.

He's married. A husband to a woman he doesn't really love.

Daisy had looked beautiful and so very happy. When they danced – their very first dance as a married couple – Matt had told her how lovely she looked and she had smiled hugely up at him. He'd tried not to think of someone else's smile. Tried not to wish he were holding someone else in his arms. He would never hold her again.

The reception had lasted for hours and there was a continuous line of friends and family to congratulate them. Matt had downed champagne like water just to get through it. Arthur had shaken his hand before he left for the night, and the look on his face had been a strange mix of disappointment and understanding. For a long time after Arthur had left, Matt had tasted bile in the back of his throat.

Now, he and Daisy are in their lavish honeymoon suite in Paris. The flight had been endless to him, with Daisy holding his hand and resting her head on his shoulder. He had tried to return her affection but it felt forced, so he'd stopped trying. He just wants to be alone. He wants to curl up somewhere private and wonder what had happened to his life.

The moment he said his vows, Matt had known he'd made a mistake. Running nowhere would have been better than spending the rest of his life with someone he didn't care about. And now he's resigned himself and Daisy to a sham of a marriage. He wonders how long it will take her to

figure out his heart isn't in it, and it probably never has been.

At the moment, Daisy is in the loo preparing herself – whatever that means. Matt opens the doors to the balcony and steps outside, breathing in the night air and forcing himself to remain calm.

What has he done?

Tears sting his eyes as he looks out into the Parisian night and he thinks of Alex, wondering what she's doing now and if Salome is taking good care of her. He knows she is.

The door to the loo opens and Matt turns slowly to look. Daisy stands there in high heels and a barely there negligee, her hair piled high on her head. "What do you think?" She asks, beaming.

She looks beautiful but Matt wants to lean over the balcony and empty his stomach of wedding cake and champagne. Instead, he forces himself to smile and walk toward her. "You look very sexy, love."

Daisy wraps her arms around his waist and leans up for a kiss. She divests him of his clothes and pushes him down on the bed with a giggle. Matt closes his eyes and thinks of Alex because otherwise, he isn't going to be able to satisfy his bride tonight. He pictures Alex's hands on him, her lips against his throat and her soft whimpers in his ear. Matt makes love to his new wife that night while thinking of someone else and tears blur his vision the whole time.

With her eyes shut and her legs around his waist, Daisy is too lost in newly-wedded bliss to notice.

XxX

The popsicle log cabin is harder to put together than she thought it would be and Marie abandons them halfway through their endeavor to go home. By the time Alex and Salome finish their project, it's way past Salome's bedtime. Alex snaps a quick picture of the cabin on her phone and sends it to Salome's teacher in America before tucking her daughter in for the night.

The kitchen is a wreck – the counter sticky with glue and leftover popsicle sticks scattered everywhere. Alex is too tired and emotionally drained to bother cleaning it and instead, she heads straight to her bedroom and shuts the door behind her. She's been longing to be by herself all day. It's exhausting, pretending to be perfectly all right for such a long time.

Pulling her mobile out of her pocket, Alex leans against her bedroom door and scrolls through her messages. Karen had sent her a text with an attachment earlier and knowing she was at the wedding, Alex hadn't opened it. She couldn't afford to fall apart in front of Salome. Now, with Salome in bed and the door shut firmly behind her, Alex has no reason not to look.

With shaking hands, she selects the attachment and watches with trepidation as it loads. When it does, hot tears fill her eyes and Alex bites back a sob. It's a picture of Matt and Daisy at the reception, arms around each other on the dance floor. She can't see Matt's face but Daisy is beaming. Underneath the picture, Karen had texted, 'Aren't they adorable?'

Dropping her phone to the floor, Alex crosses the room and curls up on her bed without bothering to change first. She doesn't even have the strength to pull back the covers. Instead, she lies atop sheets and blankets, curled into a ball and sobbing into her mattress.

Oh god. It hurts.

He'd married her, just like Alex had wanted. Matt is someone's husband now and Alex had been the one to tell him to do it. A husband. It feels so strange, thinking of Matt in that capacity. He'll be happier with Daisy. She knows that. But knowing doesn't make the ache in her chest go away

– this wide and gaping hole that feels like it will never close again. She'll walk around for the rest of her life missing a large part of herself.

Squeezing her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face, Alex wonders if things might have been different if she had gone to the wedding, if she'd begged Matt not to get married. If she'd never pushed him away to begin with. But she had, and dwelling on what might have been will only hurt her in the end.

How is she supposed to face him at work on Monday? There is no way she'll be able to look him in the eye without showing him everything she's feeling. Matt has always been so good at seeing right through her. Whether he's married now or not, she still loves him desperately and the second she makes eye contact, he's going to know.

That night, alone and curled up in the middle of her too big bed, Alex cries herself to sleep.

XxX

On Monday morning, Alex opens her eyes to sunlight streaming into her bedroom window and she immediately wants to shut them again. It's been a long and miserable weekend and she hasn't once gone to bed without tears in her eyes or streaming down her face. She can't remember the last time she cried so much and she hates herself for it but she can't seem to stop.

Today, she has to go into work and face Matt. He's going to come onto the set with that honeymoon glow about him, looking blissfully wedded. He's going to be wearing a ring. Thankfully, he'll have to take it off to play the Doctor. Alex will just have to very carefully avoid looking at his hand until he does so. If she's really lucky, she'll only have to look him in the eye when they're filming, and maybe he'll mistake the love in her eyes for River's.

She's just beginning to talk herself into getting out of bed when the sound of the doorbell forces her up and stumbling sleepily into the hall. She hurries to answer the door before whoever is on the other side wakes Salome. Scrubbing a hand over her face, Alex pulls open the door to find Arthur standing on her doorstep, holding two coffee cups and smiling awkwardly.

"Hello," he says. "Thought we could carpool today."

Alex takes the coffee cup he offers her, wrapping her hands around its warmth. "What for?"

Arthur shrugs, looking away. "Dunno. Just thought it might be nice."

When he looks up at her again – a quick, nervous glance – she realizes with a sinking heart that he knows. He knows everything. Heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribcage, Alex swallows past the sudden lump in her throat and watches Arthur continue to avoid her eyes. "Who told you?" She asks, voice barely a whisper.

"No one," Arthur says quietly, finally looking at her again. "I just knew."

There is no judgment in his gaze – merely sympathy and the fondness for her she always sees. Face crumpling, Alex begins to cry and Arthur's arms are around her instantly, guiding her back inside and shutting the door behind them. He leads her to the sofa in her living room and sets their coffee cups on the table. Alex pulls away from him and attempts to gather herself, wiping hurriedly at her eyes. "I'm sorry," she says. "I just - "

"Don't," Arthur says, hand on her back. "Don't apologize to me."

Nodding, Alex bites her lip and stares at him with tears in her eyes. Someone else knows. It feels like a little bit of the burden has been lifted from around her shoulders. It has been exhausting, carrying her heartache around with her and trying to hide it from everyone. It feels good, in a painful sort of way, knowing that someone else knows she's hurting.

Arthur puts an arm around her, pulling her into his chest. She buries her face in his horrible jumper and clings to him, letting him comfort her. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't think he would really do it."

She shakes her head but doesn't lift her face from his jumper. "It's alright," she says, voice watery. "I told him to."

"What?" Arthur pulls her away forcibly and looks her in the eye. "Why would you do that?"

Alex glances down at her hands in her lap. "Because I could never have made him happy. Not for long."

Arthur doesn't say anything; he just pulls her back to him and holds her while she tries to get her emotions under control. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, so Alex lets herself enjoy the embrace of a friend who knows what she's going through and isn't judging her for it. For a while, they sit together in silence, their coffee cooling on the table in front of them. Alex has made a wet patch on Arthur's jumper with her tears but he doesn't seem to mind. Sniffling, she lets out a quiet breath and says, "I still love him."

Arthur's lips brush against the top of her head and he sighs. "I know you do."

XxX

When Monday comes, Matt has never been so happy to get up at five in the morning in his life. His and Daisy's three-day long honeymoon had been emotionally exhausting. While Matt did everything he could to distract Daisy with shopping and sightseeing during the day, the nights were draining. Thinking of Alex had been the only way he got through it but it hurt, keeping her so close to the forefront of his mind. He should be trying to forget her and move on the best way he can but he clings to his memories of her because they're all he has left. All he'll ever have now.

Walking onto set that day, Matt feels a wave of relief wash over him. This place is more like home than his own house, especially now, and he's so grateful to be back again, among his family.

Speaking of which, Karen runs up to him the moment she spots him, skidding a little in her fuzzy slippers as she bounds up to him with a smile on her face. "Hey!" She says, throwing her arms around him. He catches her easily and wraps her in his arms, smiling. "How was Paris? Romantic?"

Over her shoulder, he sees Alex standing with Arthur and even in a shadowy corner with a robe thrown over her outfit and her hair pulled back she looks lovely. "Beautiful," he answers Karen, unable to take his eyes off the curly-haired woman across the room. It almost brings tears to his eyes, seeing her now. She's all he thought about all weekend and he just wants to run to her.

When Karen pulls away to take his hand, Matt remembers once again why he can't – the ring on his finger. It feels more like a shackle, his very own self-imposed exile.

Arthur turns to look in his direction, though Alex has yet to take her eyes off the floor. He nods toward Matt but doesn't move to greet him, shuffling slightly closer to Alex and blocking her from Matt's view.

"Come on," Karen begins to tug him in the direction of their friends. "Alex missed your wedding. I'm sure she'll want to congratulate you."

Matt very much doubts it. Alex could deny loving him all she wanted but he knows differently. He knows deep down that Alex had been just as in love with him as he still is with her. But what could he do? Wait around his whole life until she was ready to admit it?

Arthur looks up as they approach and Matt can't help but notice how close he stands to Alex, who still hasn't looked up. Does she know that Arthur knows about them? He wonders if Arthur told her.

"Look who's here," Karen says, shoving Matt forward playfully.

"Hey mate," Arthur nods toward him again and Matt reaches out to clap him on the back. "Good trip?"

Eyes on Alex now, Matt nods but says nothing.

For a moment, they stand in stilted, awkward silence. When they're together like this, there usually isn't a quiet moment to be found and now it's like they don't know what to say to one another. Matt catches Karen looking between the three of them in confusion, as if she can't understand the subtle shift in the atmosphere.

Even so, Matt can't pull his eyes away from Alex. He tries to, but his gaze keeps wandering back to her without his permission. He just wants to drink her in - it feels like an eternity since he saw her last. He wonders if the longing he feels is palpable or if he just feels it too strongly. He wants things to be the way they were before, when he could just sneak off to his trailer with Alex and press heated kisses into her skin but those days are in the past. He just can't seem to let go.

Finally, Alex looks up and Matt's breath catches in his throat at the sight of her. She's beautiful, just like she always is but she looks tired. Totally shattered. He can see the exhaustion around her eyes. Right then, he wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and take care of her but he knows he can't. It isn't his job anymore. Maybe it never was.

And there. He almost stops breathing because just beneath the exhaustion, Matt can see the same longing in his eyes reflected back at him in hers. He feels his heart leap into his throat.

She still loves him.

He wants to drop to his knees in gratitude because he doesn't think he could have gone on if she hated him now. The only time his life makes sense is when Alex looks at him like that. He wonders if she knows a simple ceremony hasn't stopped him loving her either. He'll never stop, and no marriage certificate will ever change that.

She meets his eyes for only a second before her gaze drifts somewhere around his collar, like she can't bring herself to look directly at him for long. "Congratulations," she says and Matt can hear the false note of cheer in her voice, even if no one else does. It makes his chest ache. "I heard it was beautiful."

Matt nods because if he spoke he thinks his voice might crack.

"And Paris?" Alex asks. "How was it?"

Matt can only marvel at her strength. He's the only one who knows her well enough to know she's just barely managing to keep the note of tears out of her voice. "It was good," he says, and if his own voice wavers, no one mentions it. He can feel Arthur's eyes boring into the side of his head, though. "Lovely."

Alex nods and glances away, biting her lip.

Matt wishes he could tell her it had been her he made love to in Paris. It had been her in that honeymoon suite every night. Her perfume he smelled, her hair he touched, her lips he kissed and her image in his mind's eye. But he won't say any of those things and instead, they stand in a circle with their friends and avoid eye contact because if they look at one another, it might not be so easy to hide.

After a while, Karen is called to shoot a scene and without the need to cover the awkwardness in front of her, Arthur leads Alex away without a word. Matt watches them go and it feels like every step Alex takes away from him, it tears the hole his chest further until he thinks he'll be turned inside out by the vacuous, gaping fissure.

As they disappear out of sight, Matt takes in a deep breath and isn't surprised when it burns. Daisy may have his name now but his heart will never belong to her. Whatever is left of it – ravaged and broken though it may be – is in Alex's small hands.

XxX

After two months of marriage, the arguing begins. Frankly, Matt thinks the only reason they lasted so long without fighting is because he had been so complacent about everything. He just didn't care. Daisy could go out and buy thousands of pounds worth of clothes and shoes every day and he wouldn't have said a word because nothing bothered him anymore. He'd already lost the love of his life; there isn't much left to ruffle his feathers.

It isn't until one evening, three days after their two-month anniversary, that things begin to change. When Matt comes home from work, he's already grumpy and not in the mood to deal with Daisy

– he'd kissed Alex today. As the Doctor, of course but it had still left him reeling.

He'd been dreading it all day and he knew Alex had to be as well. He wanted more than anything to kiss her again but not as the Doctor. It's torture, playing a man who's in love with her while he tries all day to pretend that he isn't. When the time came and the Doctor pulled River into him to kiss her goodbye for now, Alex had looked up at him with real tears shining in her eyes. Heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears, he'd brushed his thumb across her cheek and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Alex had gasped beneath him, hands stiff and unmoving on his shoulders even as she opened her mouth to let him in.

Matt can't remember if the script had called for it but he hadn't been able to stop himself from wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer. Having her in his arms again felt like nothing else on earth. Like home. If this was all he had left of her, then he'd take it. Alex had whimpered into his mouth and he'd known he was hurting her, opening up still healing wounds

and making them bleed anew.

When the director called for a break, he'd gripped Alex's wrist to keep her from immediately running off, and whispered, "I'm sorry."

Looking away from him, Alex had pulled her hand from his grip and wiped at her eyes. "So am I."

She'd walked away without glancing back.

Now, emotionally drained and lips still tingling from the touch of hers even hours later, Matt wants nothing more than to fall into bed and be oblivious for a long time. Instead, Daisy meets him at the door with an enthusiastic kiss that he doesn't have the energy to return.

Pulling away, she takes one look at his face and then pats his cheek affectionately. "Tired, baby?"

He nods wordlessly and shuffles past her into the house.

"I got takeout," Daisy says, following behind him. "Yours is keeping warm in the microwave."

Matt gets out a plate and retrieves his dinner, sitting down at the kitchen table with a heavy sigh. Daisy sits across from him, propping her chin up in her hand and watching him like he's the most fascinating thing she's seen all day. Matt bristles a little under her gaze but says nothing.

"So I've been thinking," she says. "Wouldn't it be brilliant to have our friends over for a dinner party this weekend? You know, our first as a married couple? We could make it a monthly thing."

"Friends?" Matt asks and he wonders if he sounds as disinterested as he feels.

"Uh huh." Daisy nods. "Y'know, like, Scott and Jill, Preston and Natasha. And maybe Karen and her boyfriend. Arthur…even Alex, if you want." She says Alex's name with a touch of distaste and it makes Matt clench his fist under the table.

Isn't that just exactly what Alex needs? To come here to the place he now shares with his wife and watch them give a dinner party like they're from a bloody 1950's American sitcom? Yes, I know I claimed to be in love with you but look at the dinnerware, Alex! He can picture it now, Daisy hanging all over him while Alex tries not to watch from across the table. He won't subject either of them to that kind of torture. He's hurt her enough.

"No," he says, scooping some rice onto his fork. "I don't think so."

Daisy frowns. "Why not?"

Instead of taking a bite of his rice, he begins to push it around his plate in irritation. "Why the hell would I invite someone I know you can't stand? So she can sit here and feel awkward while you pretend to like her? Alex isn't stupid Daisy, she's well aware of your feelings toward her."

Mouth agape, Daisy stares at him. "What are you talking about? I like Alex!"

Matt scoffs. "You're a crap liar, Daze. Don't bother."

"What the hell is your problem?"

Looking up from his untouched food, Matt fixes his glare on her and Daisy leans back in her chair at the sight of it. "My problem is that you want to hold a dinner party for the people you like and then grudgingly invite my friends along just to appease me. My friends don't need your pity. Or your damn dinner party."

Shoving his plate away, Matt rises from the table and slams his chair back into place. It rattles the whole table and nearly sends his plate crashing into the floor. Daisy jumps at the sound but Matt doesn't turn to look, stalking from the kitchen and down the hall to their bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Daisy sleeps on the sofa that night and in the morning, Matt apologizes and brings her flowers. She accepts but things are never the same again after that.

They start to row all the time. About everything. Sometimes it's over finances and how much Daisy spends when she shops, or over stupid things like the laundry or not cleaning the kitchen. If Matt stays out too late, Daisy won't speak to him for days. If he doesn't call when he's supposed to, she yells at him for hours. Sometimes it feels like that's all they do, like a vicious cycle.

Scream, cry, throw things, slam doors. Repeat.

Eventually, Matt does the only thing he can think of. He spends more time on set than he does at home. Even if he's not filming, he still sticks around to watch his friends do their scenes, help out the costume department (he usually just ends up trying things on in the wardrobe), and hanging out with the Alien of the Week, watching with fascination as their masks and makeup are applied. He'll use any excuse to stay out of the house and away from his wife.

It's been four months and already his marriage is falling apart.

Occasionally, someone - usually Steven – will tell him to go home but Matt always ignores him. Sometimes, he calls and tells Daisy they ended up filming later than he thought they would and he would be sleeping in his trailer that night.

He's been lying to her for so long that the deception comes easily now.

While he's busy hiding from his life, Matt begins to notice things. It's difficult not to notice when he spends all of his spare time on set. He notices that Tim the sound guy seems to be there just as much as he does and Matt wonders if he might like to go for a pint and talk about their miserable married lives together. He also notices that Jillian from the makeup department usually ends up pilfering a few shirts from the costume department once a week and Matt would have said something but she always brings them back. She must be wearing them on the weekend when she goes out with her boyfriend. Matt thinks she probably doesn't have much money, being a girl who puts on Karen Gillan's mascara for a living.

However, what interests Matt the most is how much time Arthur and Alex seem to be spending together now. It's nearly a task of monumental proportions to find them anywhere on set separately unless they're filming a scene. They've become best mates, it seems. Matt tries not to feel jealous when he sees Arthur take Alex's hand or when Alex leans into Arthur when they're filming out in the cold, her cheeks flushed and her smile warm. It doesn't work and he usually ends up clenching his fists at his sides and looking away with a tight jaw.

He doesn't say anything though, and for a few weeks, they continue in this same fashion. Matt watches them grow closer and pretends he doesn't see it, goofing around with Kaz as usual and acting like everything within his once tight circle of friends hasn't completely fallen apart. He knows the sudden distance between them all confuses Karen and he wishes he could tell her why things are the way they are but he can't. The less people who know about him and Alex, the better. He doesn't want Karen to know what a wanker he's been. She's the only one who doesn't either avoid his gaze completely or look at him like he's made the biggest mistake of his life.

One day, during a small break while Steven consults with the director about a shot needed for the episode, Matt steps outside to get some air. Being in the same room with Alex for too long still makes him tense and weak with desire. He wonders if it will ever get easier, being without her but still being near her.

Leaning on the railing outside the studio and breathing in the cool morning air, Matt closes his eyes and tries not to think about how lonely and singular his life has become. Isn't getting married supposed to make everything better?

Maybe, says the small voice in his head, if you marry the right person.

The back door to the studio opens with a creak and Matt turns to see Arthur in the doorway, looking at him uncomfortably. "Hey," he says, and Matt knows that if he'd been aware of his presence out here, Arthur would never have opened that door.

They don't talk much anymore, him and Arthur.

"Hey," Matt says, turning to look back out over the parking lot.

After a moment, Arthur walks over to stand next to him, hands on the railing and eyes ahead of him. "So…how are things?"

Despite himself, Matt feels the corner of his mouth lift in amusement. Arthur has always been rubbish at small talk. "Fucking terrific," he sighs, watching his breath cloud in the morning air. Arthur huffs out a laugh and they stand there for a while longer in silence. Matt knows he shouldn't say anything. He knows he shouldn't. But the jealousy has been mounting for weeks like a ferocious monster in his chest and now that he's alone with Arthur, he can't keep the words from spilling out of his mouth. "So I didn't take you for the older woman type."

Arthur turns to look at him sharply. "What?"

"You know, whatever you have going on with Alex," Matt says stiffly. "Didn't take you for the type. Especially since you know she was mine first."

Arthur looks like he might punch him and Matt wouldn't blame him in the slightest. He welcomes it, closing his eyes and waiting for the blow he knows is coming because he deserves it and maybe the pain in his jaw will distract him from the way he hurts everywhere else. But Arthur doesn't

punch him. Instead, he uses his words and it's almost the same thing.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" He asks, voice harsher than Matt has ever heard it. "You have no right. Not anymore."

Matt says nothing, opening his eyes to stare at his friend warily.

Gaze furious, Arthur says, "She's a friend, Matt. A friend. God knows she needs one right now after what she's been through with you. Do you have any idea - " Arthur stops, wiping a hand over his mouth and looking frustrated. "When you married Daisy, I held her while she sobbed her heart out because she loves a married man and I've been there every day since when she falls apart after being on set with you all day so don't you dare try and sully what small comfort she gets from me."

Tears blur Matt's vision and he reaches out to grasp the railing and steady himself. His Alex. He doesn't want her hurting like that. Not ever. He wonders if she knows he's hurting too, that he lies awake at night and begs whoever is listening that he'll wake up completely over her.

"You made your choice," Arthur says, suddenly quiet but just as intense as before. "Bloody well live with it."

For a long time, they continue to stand there at the railing, not looking at each other. Matt wants to say something but he doesn't trust his voice. After several minutes, he finally speaks and the words come out hoarse. "You're right. I'm sorry, mate. I know you're not…that you'd never…" He clears his throat. "I'm sorry."

Arthur shrugs, calmer now. "Whatever. I just think it's best that we don't talk about her. If we're going to stay friends, I mean. Seems safer."

"Right." Matt nods despite the pang he feels at having his one last connection to Alex severed. "Okay. No talking about Alex. Just…" He swallows around the lump in his throat. "You'll take care of her?"

"Alex doesn't need anyone to take care of her." Then, taking one look at his destroyed expression, Arthur nods grimly. "I'm going to be the best friend she's ever had."

Matt flexes his fingers against the railing and lets out a shaky sigh. "Thank you."

XxX

Over the four months since Matt's wedding, Arthur has become an invaluable confidant for Alex. He's one of her closest friends now and she'll never be able to repay him for his friendship or make him understand what it means to her. He had been there when no one else was and picked up the pieces of her life when she was too weak to gather them up herself.

In return, Alex tries to be the best friend to him that she can, though she knows nothing she does will ever be enough. At the moment, she's treating him to lunch at his favorite little-known café just outside of London. They're ensconced in a far corner of the small place, nursing mint cappuccinos and mocking the tiny sandwiches. It's been a lovely afternoon but Alex can tell something is bothering Arthur. He's been unusually quiet.

"Alright," she says after cracking a joke about their snooty teenage waiter and getting no response. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you now or am I going to have to pester you for hours first?"

Arthur doesn't answer, frowning into his cappuccino.

"Dad," Alex sing-songs playfully. "Daddy Pooond."

Arthur glances up at her with a tired smile. "It's not important. I promise I'll stop thinking about it if we can just move on. No more brooding, I swear."

"Not good enough," Alex says, nudging his leg under the table. "We always talk about my problems. I want to hear about yours."

When Arthur says nothing and looks very interested in the pattern of their tablecloth, Alex knows.

"Ah," she breathes quietly, glancing away. "It's my problem you're brooding about, isn't it?"

Arthur lets out a frustrated huff of air and pushes his drink away. "I talked to Matt yesterday. About you."

Looking up sharply, Alex watches him with narrowed eyes. "What for?"

Arthur swallows and she can read in his eyes that he's mentally editing whatever conversation he had with Matt before he relays it to her. She wants to call him on it but she knows that there are some things she's better off not knowing. "He's just concerned about you. And I shouldn't say this but he misses you."

Her breath catches. That's the last thing she had expected to hear. Alex thinks of Matt asking after her and she wants to hate herself for the warmth that fills her chest. She shouldn't feel that little flicker of hope. It doesn't matter anymore. But…he misses her. Not that it's going to do either one of them any good, but it makes her feel a little less alone, knowing she isn't the only one feeling like she's walking around missing a part of herself.

She looks at her drink, biting down hard on her lip. "And what did you say?"

"I told him you can take care of yourself and to bugger off," Arthur says, and she lets out a quiet laugh.

"You said no such thing."

"I did," Arthur says, laughing now too. "Well, almost. It was close to that."

"It's not his fault, you know," Alex says, struggling to keep her voice from wavering like it does every time she talks about Matt. "I told him to do it."

Arthur nods. "I know you did. But he didn't have to listen to you."

"I pushed him away," she says, and there are definitely tears in her voice and her eyes now. "I pushed him right to her."

Arthur's hand is over hers in an instant and he's making soothing shushing noises. Mortified at her own weakness, Alex has never been so grateful for the privacy of the back table. "It's alright," he says, voice soft. "I know, Alex. I know you had a hand in this as well but you didn't force him into marrying her. He did that on his own."

Alex nods, pulling herself together quickly. Wiping under her eyes, she looks down at her drink with a steadily flushing face. "I'm sorry. I'm obviously still not fit to be out in public."

Laughing softly, Arthur pulls his hand back and picks up his drink. "You're doing fine."

For a few quiet moments, they peruse their menus, looking for dessert. After Arthur has decided on a large biscuit and Alex has ordered the chocolate cheesecake to drown her sorrows in – promising herself she'll work it off later – Arthur sets his menu aside and looks at her very seriously.

"How are you?" He asks. "Honestly. Aside from a few minutes ago, I mean."

"Fine," Alex nods, placing her menu over his and pointedly avoiding his gaze. "Haven't cried at all this week."

Arthur sighs. "Let me set you up with someone. I know a great guy who would be a perfect rebound. Nothing serious." He tosses a folded napkin at her when she refuses to look at him. Alex picks it up and glances at him with a small smile. "Come on, please? It's time you started dating again."

The thought of seeing anyone else is so horribly wrong. Matt may be married now but he still holds her heart in his clumsy hands. She isn't ready to take it back yet. "I can't," she says, shaking her head. "Not yet."

Sighing again, Arthur takes in her tearful expression and nods. "Alright. But let me know, okay? It could be good for you."

Alex doubts it but she says nothing.

So you're gone and I'm haunted

Chapter by BrinneyFriday

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

They've just finished the read-through for the next episode and everyone is filing out of the room but Matt stays seated, pretending to make a note on his script but watching Alex leave the room out of the corner of his eye. She doesn't sit across from him or next to him anymore, usually several places down and blocked from his view by Arthur. Waiting until she leaves is the only way he catches a glimpse of her in this room – that and arriving early to watch her take her seat. It isn't much but it's all he has now.

When her golden curls disappear through the door, Matt closes his eyes and sighs, dropping his pen and the pretense. Running a hand over his face, he uses his other hand to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. It kept vibrating throughout the read-through but he hadn't bothered to check, knowing it was probably Daisy. Sure enough, he has six text messages and two missed calls from her.

Letting out an agitated sigh, he's just about to scroll through his phone for her number when the door to the room opens and his wife walks in, dressed in a miniskirt and high-heeled boots, overlarge handbag hanging from her arm. He used to find her so attractive. Before Alex, she was the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Now, he just misses curls and curves so much he aches with it.

When Daisy spots him holding his phone, she stops and frowns. "Finally about to answer my texts are you?"

"What are you doing here?" He asks, ignoring her snipping. He isn't in the mood.

Tossing her handbag onto the table, Daisy huffs and puts a hand on her hip. "Well if you read my messages or answered your phone, you'd know, wouldn't you?"

"I was busy," he says through gritted teeth.

Daisy rolls her eyes and he resists the urge to chuck his phone at her. "I wanted to talk to you about going to dinner tonight with Natasha and Preston."

Matt stares at her, dumbfounded. "And that necessitated six text messages and two phone calls? I think it could have waited until I got home."

"I never know when you're going to be home anymore!" Daisy hasn't moved, but she crosses her arms over her chest defensively and watches him from several feet away. "Besides, the place we're going to requires a reservation."

Matt groans inwardly. Another upscale place with people he barely tolerates – what's wrong with just going someplace normal where they can unwind at the end of the day?

When he doesn't respond to her chatter, Daisy begins to tap her high-heeled boot against the floor. "You're not going to be late again tonight, are you?"

"I don't know, Daze," he says, beginning to fiddle with his phone just so he doesn't have to look at her. "This is a set, not a nine to five job. I'll be home when I'm done."

Daisy moves closer to the table, picking up the phone someone has left on the table and beginning to tap her nails against the screen. Matt ignores her. "I already asked Steven on my way in and he said you should be wrapping up for the day by six-thirty. That leaves you plenty of time to go home and change before going out with us."

His eyes dart from his phone to her, still standing several feet away and inspecting the phone in her hand with a wrinkle in her brow that he used to find adorable. Now it's just irritating. "You asked Steven?"

Daisy looks up at the tone of his voice. "Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

For one thing, if she already knew when he would be home, why did she ask? For another, he's not a bloody child. Before he can stop himself, Matt tosses his phone onto the table and snaps, "Bloody hell Daisy, could you please not ask my boss when I'm coming home like you're my sodding mother?"

Daisy flinches and puts the stranger's phone back as well, gently. "I just wanted to be sure! If you would answer my text messages I could plan these things without having to track you down."

Mat slams his hand against the tabletop and Daisy jumps. "I was in the middle of a table read! My

phone was off! I'm working, Daisy. I'm not out at the pub with the guys! What the hell do you want from me?"

Tears in her eyes, Daisy snaps, "I want you to stop acting like it's such a burden to spend time with me and our friends!"

"Your friends," he says, refusing to acknowledge the other part of that sentence. "Not mine."

"Oh," she says, indignant as she wipes at her eyes. "So they're just my friends now."

"They've always been your friends," he says, tired of fighting. "I can't stand them." Running a hand through his hair wearily, Matt watches his wife pull out her compact and check her eye makeup. "Arthur and Karen are going with the crew to a pub tonight after we're through. Why won't we go with them instead?"

He would never have suggested such a thing if he didn't know for sure that Alex has plans with Salome that night. If he has his way, Alex will never have to see him with Daisy and he'll never have to pretend like he isn't looking at her in front of his wife.

Daisy, however, wrinkles up her nose.

Matt laughs humorlessly. "Oh, I forgot. My friends aren't good enough for you."

"It's not that," she says, frowning but Matt knows how she feels about them despite her protests. At least his friends don't go to the loo after dessert to shoot up. "I just want to go out with Natasha and Preston."

"Well I don't," he says. "You go with them and I'll go to the pub."

At this suggestion, Daisy puts away her compact and walks closer to him, hands behind her back like she's an innocent little girl. Matt bristles, tensing as she sits on his lap and wiggles her bum, like it's going to have some sort of affect on him. He doesn't even flinch. Fingers walking steadily up his chest, Daisy leans in close and says coquettishly, "Or…we could stay home together. Have dinner, a little wine?" She trails off suggestively and rubs small circles on his chest.

Rigid in her embrace, Matt forces himself to relax. She's his wife and he's going to have to get used to this, whether he wants to or not. He used to be quite good at feigning ease in her embrace. He just isn't so accustomed to it anymore, having spent so much time avoiding her lately. "Whatever you want," he says, hoping his voice doesn't sound as monotone as he thinks it does. He forces his arms to move, wrapping them around her.

Daisy beams at him, leaning further into him to press her lips to his. Matt wills his hand to move to her face, cupping her cheek in his hand and closing his eyes.

A soft gasp sends him jumping away from her and Daisy just catches herself on the table before she hits the floor. In the doorway, Alex stares at them with wide eyes, watching them like a wounded animal.

"Sorry," she says quietly, and Matt wants to hit something. "I forgot my phone."

Closing his eyes for an instant, Matt realizes the phone Daisy had been fiddling with had been Alex's – he should have recognized that pink cover.

"No problem," Daisy says, sending Matt a curious glance that he just catches as his eyes open once again. She moves to get Alex's phone and while she isn't looking, Matt's eyes meet Alex's.

She looks tired and shaken. Why did she have to walk in on that? Couldn't she have walked in when Daisy had been irritated and he'd been cross? She could have seen the real them – unhappy and rowing all the time. Instead, she's seen the lie he's trying so desperately to live.

I love you, he thinks, staring into her eyes – eyes he misses so very much. I only love you.

He wonders if she understands him with just a look, the way she used to or if his gaze means nothing to her now. He'll never know. Alex blinks and looks away, staring resolutely at the floor until Daisy walks up to her, handing her the mobile. She looks up then, offering Daisy the ghost of a smile. "Thanks."

Matt watches her leave and wonders if it's possible to hate his life anymore than he does right then.

XxX

When Alex leaves Matt and Daisy, clutching her phone tightly in her fist, she doesn't stop to chat with people like she normally does. Keeping her head down so as not to attract any attention to herself, she walks resolutely to her car. She tries not to think of what she has just witnessed but it's all she sees every time she blinks. Daisy draped over his lap and Matt with his arms around her around, kissing her. Alex wonders if Daisy feels that same trembling flutter in her stomach every time Matt touches her, the way she always did. She wonders if Matt kisses Daisy with the same determination he used to kiss her with. It had certainly looked like it.

Alex blinks away tears, staring at her feet as she walks and hoping no one stops her as she pushes through the doors of the studio.

He's happy, then.

And she's glad for him, she really is. It's what she wanted for him, what she'd hoped he would have if he married Daisy. She loves him, and she wants him to be happy, but it hurts to watch. What she just saw will haunt her for weeks – Daisy's hand in the hair she used to run her fingers through, Matt's hands on Daisy's waist.

Reaching her car, Alex unlocks it quickly and gets inside, shutting the door behind her. She rests her head on the steering wheel and begins to cry quietly, hot tears slipping down her cheeks. And she's been doing so well lately, too.

She will never ever forget Matt and what he meant to her, and selfishly, she doesn't want him to forget her either. She doesn't want to see him kissing his wife. She doesn't want to be forced to watch him move on with his life every day, seeing that ring on his finger and watching from afar as she slowly slips from his mind.

It hurts, being forgotten.

Alex doesn't want to be this person – the woman who pines after the married man who left her for his wife. She is not this person. She doesn't want to do this to herself. She asked for this, didn't she? She vividly and painfully remembers asking Matt to go home to Daisy, asking him to move on and to be with someone his own age who could make him happy in all the ways she cannot.

Being Matt, he'd refused at first, determined in his stubbornness. And she told him she didn't love him, would never love him. She asked him to leave her alone. Alex shuts her eyes against the tears and stifles a sob, gripping the steering wheel tightly in her hands. Matt had loved her, and he'd done as she asked.

Alex knows she has no right to be upset, not when she orchestrated everything herself. She'd practically pushed him down on one knee in front of Daisy and all the pain she's feeling now is her own doing. Matt is happy now, just like she'd known he would be, and it's time for her to let go.

Pulling away from the steering wheel and sitting up, Alex scrolls through her phone determinedly. Sniffling, she wipes hurriedly at her eyes and clears her throat, pushing Arthur's number and letting it ring.

"Didn't I just see you five minutes ago?"

Alex laughs, a shaky, watery sound.

"What's wrong?" Arthur's concern is immediate and heart-warming. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she says, willing her voice not to break. "I'm just…"

"No, you're not," he insists. "Are you hurt?"

"Not physically."

Arthur sighs on the other end of the line. "What did he do?"

"Nothing I didn't ask of him," Alex chuckles bitterly, wiping at her eyes again.

For a moment, they say nothing and Alex listens to Arthur's steady breathing through the phone, gathering her courage and giving herself time to back out. But she doesn't want to. Matt is happy, and it's time she tried to be as well.

"All right," she breathes. "Who did you want to set me up with?"

XxX

The man Arthur has in mind is a friend of his who owns a nightclub where Arthur sometimes plays with his band. He's older than Arthur, closer to Alex's age and it's almost strange now to be with someone who sits quietly at dinner and doesn't gesture a lot with his hands or fidget constantly. He doesn't talk excitedly, like everything fascinates him and sparks his curiosity, like a child in constant wonder at the world around him. Alex had always found that so refreshing about Matt and she wonders if it will change as he ages – if it's only an attribute of the young and enthusiastic or if Matt is truly just a lover of life. She'll never know now.

Tom, Arthur's friend, takes her to a show at his club – a new band that he thinks will bring more people into his place. They're not really Alex's type of band, even with Matt's influence expanding her musical horizons, but she listens attentively and claps along with the crowd after every set. Tom talks to her over the music sometimes but Alex wishes he wouldn't. She hates small talk – it's so tiring, having to go over the same boring questions on every new date. She just wishes she could find someone who already knows everything about her and her habits, so that she doesn't need to explain anything and can get right down to falling in love. It probably isn't a very romantic way of looking at things but then; she's never been much of a romantic, has she?

Tom holds her hand a lot and occasionally puts his arm around her during the slower songs while they sit at a back table. The place is smoky and smells like someone has spilled beer all over the floor, which isn't really her idea of a great first date and she can't seem to get comfortable under Tom's touch, no matter what she does. When his hand is in hers, it's too sweaty and she wants to pull away. When his arm is around her, she stiffens and while her mind screams at her to relax into his touch and lean her head on his shoulder, she can't do it. Before, it would have been so easy but things are different now.

She's different.

All in all, it makes for a very uncomfortable date.

When the band has played their last song of the night, Tom shuts down the club and they sit at the now empty bar with two glasses and a bottle of whiskey between them. They talk for a while about inconsequential things, the small talk that bores Alex to tears. Through it all, she thinks of nothing but Matt and how easily it had come to her with him. Matt didn't need small talk to have something to say. He didn't even need to touch her to set her whole body alight.

She blinks when she finds her mind straying to him again for the hundredth time that night and knocks back the rest of her drink, forcing herself to be in the present and not off somewhere in her mind with a man she'll never have again. When Tom puts aside his drink and pulls her closer on her bar stool, nearly sending her tumbling, she falls against his chest and stares up at him with wide eyes. She wonders if she looks as horrified as she feels – like a frightened animal watching

the lion come creeping close.

And then Tom's mouth is against hers and she gasps quietly. He seems to take her surprise as enthusiasm and slips his tongue into her mouth, letting out a groan and wrapping his arms around her waist. Alex kisses him back almost mechanically but she cannot close her eyes. She's frozen in place, staring at his face close up and feeling absolutely nothing.

It's wrong. It's all so very wrong. She wants to wrench her mouth away from his and run. She doesn't even know where she would run but anywhere is better than here – kissing a man she doesn't want to kiss while her heart shrivels just a little more in her chest. But she won't run this time. She ran from Max back in LA and she won't do it again.

Running away doesn't solve anything. She's learned that the hard way.

XxX

When Matt hears about Alex's date with Tom, the anger he feels is unreasonable and boiling. He wants to throw his phone against the wall and watch it shatter. Or maybe throw Tom against the wall instead. It's not Tom's fault and the urge to hurt him is unwarranted but his hand twitches at his side and he wants nothing more than to hit something.

It's none of his business now. He knows it's not. But that doesn't soothe the gnawing burn in his stomach.

He goes home that night and wonders what Alex is doing, if she's enjoying her date and if Tom is keeping his sodding hands to himself. He slams the front door behind him and slumps into a chair in the living room, turning on the telly and snapping at Daisy when she asks him what's wrong. It isn't her fault any more than it is Tom's and he knows he's being a prick but Alex is out right at that moment with bloody Tom and horrible thoughts of what they could be doing eat away at him until he's clenching his fists and red in the face.

Daisy goes to bed without him and Matt lies awake on the sofa, wondering if Alex is still out with Tom or home safe in her bed – alone. Please God, let her be alone.

A week later, he overhears Alex and Arthur during their lunch break, speaking in low voices outside the studio where he usually goes to have a breather. He's just about to pull open the slightly ajar door when he hears her voice and stops cold, listening with his hand hovering over the doorknob.

"I just couldn't," she's saying and she sounds resigned.

"Why not?" Arthur asks. "He really liked you – he told me he did."

"I know," Alex sighs. "But I didn't feel anything…I tried. I really did." She pauses and Matt hears her let out a quiet breath. "It just wasn't there. I won't force myself to be with someone I feel nothing for just because I don't want to be alone."

The relief that floods through Matt is immediately followed by waves of crippling guilt and he backs away from the door and walks off down the hall before he hears anything else he isn't meant to.

There's a strange aching in his chest as he walks further and further away from Alex because she's hurting and he's relieved. He hates himself then, for hoping that she went to bed alone that night a week ago. No matter who he's married to, she's still his Alex and Matt doesn't want her to be unhappy. He would rather spend the rest of his days miserable and sick with jealousy if it meant she was happy and with someone who loved her.

She'll never be his again, but the thought of her being with someone else makes him want to throw things like some spoiled child. But she's unhappy, and that's the last thing he wants. All he has ever wanted was for her to have a good life. No one is ever going to love her like he does, but if some bloke can even come close to a fraction of what he feels for her, then maybe it might be enough.

Three days later, Matt is fiddling with his phone at the table just before a meeting with the cast and crew when Karen and Arthur walk into the room, talking quietly. Matt doesn't pay them any mind until he hears Alex's name and then his head shoots up. He catches himself staring at them intently and quickly looks away, eyes back on his phone but his attention focused entirely on their conversation now.

"Are you sure she'll like him?" Arthur asks. "He's a bit younger than her."

Karen waves him away. "Oh please. Would you be asking that question if Alex was a man?"

Arthur holds up his hands. "Fair point. Still, Daniel is…"

"A great guy," Karen says with a frown. "He's funny and interesting and I think Alex will really like him. They'll have a good time together tomorrow, just watch."

Daniel. Karen's friend Daniel – the peroxide blonde with the leather jacket and the attitude – is going to go out with his Alex? His Alex has consented to go out with that pompous prick who just cares about the next notch on his bed post?

Alex deserves better than a guy who just wants to get his jollies off. She deserves everything and Daniel is not the bloke to give it to her. The thought of his lecherous hands on her makes him want to be sick.

Without thinking, Matt slams his fist against the table, jaw clenched. Karen and Arthur jump, turning to stare at him with wide eyes. Unclenching his jaw and forcing his hand to open, Matt mumbles, "Sorry."

Karen rolls her eyes but Arthur glares.

Matt averts his gaze and says nothing.

XxX

Daniel is young. Not as young as Matt, perhaps just a few years older. The second she meets him, Daniel reaches for her hand, kissing it with a naughty smile and Alex is instantly attracted to him. It doesn't feel uncomfortable, letting him sling an arm around her shoulders as they walk into the art exhibit.

With Tom, it had been awkward and forced. With Daniel, the attraction is electric. It's nothing more than that, however. With Matt, Alex had tried to tell herself it was purely physical but it never had been. It had always been so much more. But with Daniel, that's all it is. Alex doesn't care. She isn't looking for long term right now – just someone whose touch doesn't make her shiver for all the wrong reasons.

They wander through the art exhibit holding hands, giggling at the really terrible paintings that don't seem to be anything at all and when Alex tells him that Salome could have made a better sculpture with her play dough, Daniel collapses against her with silent laughter, throwing an arm around her waist and leading her away to the watercolors.

"So what gives?" He asks when they stop at a particularly lovely painting, sitting together on a bench in front of it to admire the coloring properly. "You're far too gorgeous to be single. You're not going to rape me and then hack me into pieces are you? Not that I would mind the molestation."

Alex laughs and he raises an eyebrow.

"I went through a divorce recently," she explains. "I just haven't been ready to date until now." It's close enough to the truth that she doesn't really feel like she's lying to him.

Daniel nods. "I understand. Break ups are tough."

"You have no idea," she says, thinking of Matt's smiling face.

Jumping to his feet, Daniel holds out a hand to her. "Well, you're just lucky you have me."

"Is that so?" She asks, grinning as he pulls her to her feet.

"Oh, absolutely," he says. "I'm brilliant at making women forget all about their exes."

They continue their evening with no talk of break ups, sharing a bag of candy and traipsing through the exhibits paying more attention to each other than the paintings and sculptures. It's an enjoyable evening and Alex can't remember the last time a man made her laugh so much. But that's a lie. She does remember. She just doesn't want to.

At the end of the night, Daniel's hands linger around her waist and brush against her arm more frequently and Alex can tell where the evening is headed, if she allows it to. On the walk back to her townhouse, she lets her hand brush against his once, then twice. Daniel glances at her, and when he sees her smirk, he grins outright. Taking her by the hand, he veers suddenly to the right and Alex finds herself being slammed against the brick wall of an alleyway just a block away from her townhouse.

His mouth is against hers before she has time to react and she shuts her eyes instantly, opening her mouth against his. His hands grip her waist tightly and he pulls her closer by the hips. Clutching at the material of his jacket, Alex lets his hands roam while her mind wanders. He tastes like tobacco

and the candy they've been sharing and she feels an odd, melancholy pang in her chest because for some reason, she had been expecting something else. Something minty with a hint of ginger. She'd been expecting Matt.

Tears spring to her eyes as Daniel's hand slides up her waist to cup her breast through her shirt and she gasps, pulling away and turning her head. Panting into her neck, Daniel releases her. She turns to peer up at him with tears in her eyes and he leans in close, kissing her gently. Alex can't bring herself to kiss him back.

Taking her hand again, Daniel leads her out of the alley and walks her the rest of the way home in silence. At her doorstep, he pulls her close and kisses her again. She forces herself to react, closing her eyes and pressing her lips firmly against his. His hands linger at her waist, caressing lightly.

She can tell he wants to be invited in but she can't. Not yet.

She wonders if she'll ever be ready.

The next day, Alex sits with Karen and Matt at a picnic table outside the studio, waiting for Steven to call them back in to shoot their next scene. Arthur is off somewhere on his mobile with his band mate, arguing about guitar picks of all things.

The air is as warm as it gets in England during the springtime and while it's chilly compared to Los Angeles, Alex would take it over the humidity of the States any day. England is truly home to her, and she wishes moving back were an option. Maybe one day it will be. Now, though, she enjoys it while she has it.

Next to her in oversized sunglasses, Karen paints her nails a bright purple color that Alex never would have picked, humming under her breath. Across the table, Matt picks at a loose thread in his tweed jacket and doesn't meet her eyes.

She misses him. Not just the sex or even the way his kisses made her feel. She misses the way he smiled at her, bright and uninhibited. She misses talking to him. She misses the way he made her laugh, and how she could get him to giggle like a little boy if she really tried. She misses that giggle.

It's strange; missing someone who is so close she could reach out and touch him. Not raising his eyes from his sleeve, Matt pushes his hair from his eyes and Alex swallows heavily, turning her gaze elsewhere.

"So," Karen says, looking up from her nails with a mischievous grin. "Daniel told me you two hit it off pretty well."

Stomach dropping, Alex sees Matt's head shoot up out of the corner of her eye and she gives a weak smile. "He was nice," she ventures, hoping Karen will drop it. She doesn't want to talk about this in front of Matt. And why does he look so interested? He doesn't care about her like that anymore – she saw that with her own eyes. Kissing his wife because she's his wife is one thing, but she'd never seen a man look so single-minded about a kiss before. He definitely doesn't miss her.

"Psh," Karen laughs in disbelief. "Nice? You make out in alleys with guys who are just nice, do you?" She nudges Alex playfully. "Really, on a first date!"

Alex suddenly wishes the ground would open up and swallow her whole. Face burning and tears stinging her eyes, she stares at the picnic table and says nothing. Oblivious, Karen turns to study her newly painted nails. Composing herself, Alex risks a glance in Matt's direction, glimpsing his pale, horrified expression. He looks at her like she just punched him in the chest. For a moment, Alex can't tell if he's going to be ill or cry.

Then, abruptly and without a word, he stands, walking away from her with fists clenched at his sides and shoulders tense. Alex watches him go with a lump in her throat.

She doesn't see Daniel again.

XxX

When filming for the latest episode comes to a conclusion, Alex is more than ready to be back in America. Usually she hates to go back home, but things are different now. The set of Doctor Who doesn't feel like a home anymore, the way it used to. She won't be back again until it's time for the two -part finale, so she says her goodbyes to the crew, Steven, Karen and Arthur. Salome goes around and hugs everyone and they all give her a big bear hug in return. Steven presents her with a large bag of candy for the plane ride and Karen gives her a new set of colored pencils – a jumbo pack that earns the redhead a gasp of happiness and a kiss on the cheek.

She holds Salome's hand on the way out of the studio, listening to her chatter about all the things she's going to draw with her new pencils on the plane ride home, though Alex knows she'll be asleep within the hour. Matt hasn't made an appearance and she isn't sure if she's relieved or disappointed that she won't get to catch one last glimpse of him before she leaves. The distance will certainly do her good – her heart can't properly heal when she's so close to him, day in and day out. It's like picking at a scab every day and watching it bleed afresh, knowing there will be a

scar when it finally does heal.

Suddenly, Salome drops her hand and lets out a squeal of delight, shouting, "Matty!" and beginning to run. Alex turns to look and sees Matt just walking into the studio, car keys still in hand. She should have known she wouldn't get away so easily.

"Poppet!" He says, smiling widely and bending down to let Salome launch herself into his arms. "Thought I was going to miss you!"

"You're late," Salome accuses, arms wrapped around his neck.

"I know," he says, smoothing her hair and closing his eyes as he hugs her tightly. "I'm sorry."

Watching them, Alex feels such a deep, gaping hole open up inside herself that she knows without a doubt that it will never be filled. She will try to – with friends and work, books and meaningless dates – but that fissure will never close. There is only one person on earth who could make it better, but he can't. Not anymore.

Matt's eyes open and land on her and Alex hurriedly looks away, turning from him to wipe at her eyes. She cries at everything these days. She doesn't even realize she's doing it anymore until either Salome points it out or she notices the wetness on her cheeks.

She turns again when she thinks she has control over her emotions and Matt is standing with Salome in his arms, talking quietly to her. Salome nods to whatever he says, looking solemn. Then, when he notices that Alex has turned to face them again, Matt stops talking, offering her a weak smile and studying the floor intently.

Before, he'd at least looked her in the eye but after the Daniel Incident, he can't even do that. Maybe it should bother her, but Alex is mostly relieved. It means he can't see the love still shining in her eyes whenever she looks at him. She would rather he remained oblivious.

"Mom," Salome says, smiling and holding up a package. "Look what Matty brought me. It's drawing paper – the really nice kind!"

Sure enough, the tablet is full of thick, pure white paper of the highest quality. It's beautiful, wrapped in a jade green binding – Salome's favorite color. "That's sweet of you," she says, not afraid to look at him now that he isn't looking back. "You didn't have to -"

"I wanted to," Matt says, voice suddenly fierce as his eyes snap up to meet hers for the first time in a while. Her breath catches and Alex finds herself ensnared. He stares back at her, nostrils flared like he wants to look away but he can't. Those hazel eyes…she's missed them so. They're not the same eyes, though. There is no warmth there for her anymore, only sadness and regret.

Salome wiggles in Matt's arms and Alex blinks, averting her gaze. Matt clears his throat, putting Salome back on her feet and patting her fondly on the head. "Be good for your mummy, alright, poppet," he says, and Alex's ears must be deceiving her because for a moment, she thinks his voice comes out hoarse.

"I will," Salome assures him, clutching all of her going-away presents to her chest like they're precious treasures.

Matt meets her gaze again as Salome slips her hand into Alex's. "Have a safe flight," he says, and she nods while he flounders, opening and closing his mouth like he wants to say so much more. Finally, he sighs and rubs a hand over his face roughly. Looking at the ground again, he says quietly, "Goodbye Alex."

"Goodbye," she says, just as softly and Matt nods once before striding away from her, hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders slumped. Alex closes her eyes and begins to lead Salome away by the hand, refusing to watch him walk away from her again.

When they're safely settled on the plane and Salome has her seatbelt on and her colored pencils and paper arranged perfectly before her, she asks Alex for one of the lollypops Steven had given her.

Alex pulls away the wrapper and hands the treat over, watching Salome pop it happily into her mouth. She can't contain her curiosity any longer and she asks, "What did Matty say to you earlier? When you two were whispering together?"

Salome studies the colored pencils in front of her, frowning. "It's a secret, mommy. I can't tell."

Now the curiosity is burning a hole in her stomach. "Matty wouldn't want you to keep secrets from me," she tries, prodding gently. "He must have meant not to tell anyone else but me."

Salome looks thoughtful, speaking around the lolly in her mouth. "Maybe…"

Reaching out, Alex strokes a hand over Salome's curls. "I won't tell anyone, love."

"Well, alright," she relents. Finally selecting a cherry red pencil, she begins to sketch the outline of a house. "He said for me to take good care of you cause you need looking after and he can't do it anymore."

The sudden lump in her throat feels like it might choke her and Alex says nothing in response to her daughter's confession, turning quickly to the window as their flight takes off, staring out at the tarmac with tears blurring her eyes.

Chapter End Notes

Thanks so much for the kudos and comments! I'm just glad some of you are masochists like I am and will actually sit through this. Haha Thanks to Charina for being my beta and dealing with angst even though she doesn't want to. Chapter title from A Fine Frenzy's Almost Lover.

Though he's gone and you are wonderful

Chapter by BrinneyFriday

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Alex and Salome have been back in Los Angeles for a week when Alex finally gets an afternoon free. Salome is at a friend's house until dinner and Alex decides it's the perfect opportunity to go to the grocery store and stock up on some much-needed items. The cabinets are looking a little bare but she isn't in the mood to go on a shopping spree. She picks up a few essentials like peanut butter, ice cream, some fruit and poptarts before she grows tired of the crowded aisles and gives up.

She pays for her items and carries her two brown paper bags out into the parking lot, balancing them while she searches her purse for her keys. Not looking where she's going, she yelps in surprise when she hits a fairly solid object, sending the bags in her arms tumbling to the ground and her groceries spilling out onto the pavement.

"Oh bloody hell," she curses even as the solid object she ran into begins to apologize profusely.

Bending down, she begins to pick up her bags, stuffing things back into their place and grumbling to herself. The solid object continues to apologize, crouching down next to her to help. They both reach for the jar of peanut butter at the same time and their hands brush.

Alex glances up and finds herself looking into warm brown eyes, full of sympathy and a small amount of amusement. Those eyes widen when they meet hers and suddenly the skin around the eyes crinkles as the man begins to smile.

"Hi," he says and his voice is warm and deep.

"Hello," she returns, smiling a little.

The man hands her the peanut butter jar and picks up the two bags, lifting them with ease. "I'm so sorry – I should have been paying attention to where I was going."

"No," she says, shaking her head. "It's fine. I was searching for my keys and I just wasn't looking."

He smiles at her and it's a nice smile; he has very white teeth. "Well I guess we'll both have to be more attentive from now on. Although this time, I would consider this more of a happy accident."

Alex blushes, smiling at him and feeling like a teenager. Blushing! Honestly.

"Let me walk you to your car," he says. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," she says, and begins to lead the way, rummaging through her bag for her keys as they begin to walk. She finds them within moments now that she has both of her hands free.

"I'm Paul, by the way," the man says, glancing at her over the shopping bags.

"Alex," she says, unlocking her car as they reach it.

Paul places her bags in the back seat and shuts the door, turning to her and dusting his hands off on his jeans. "So Alex…I really feel terrible about this."

Alex laughs. "Honestly, it's not a big deal."

"No, your apples looked bruised," he says, smiling. "I can't walk out of your life now. That's just irresponsible."

"Oh?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "And how do you plan to compensate me for my bruised apples?"

Paul grins. "Coffee, of course."

Shaking her head, Alex bites her lip and thinks of a floppy-haired idiot thousands of miles away.

'He told me to take care of you cause you need looking after and he can't do it anymore.'

Salome's words reverberate through her mind and Alex closes her eyes. He's married. That's why

he can't look after you. He's married and you're still pining like a pathetic schoolgirl.

Opening her eyes again and steeling herself with quiet determination, Alex gives Paul a bright smile. "Alright. Coffee it is."

XxX

At one of their favorite pubs in the middle of London on a Monday night, Matt, Arthur and Karen sit at their usual booth and do their best not to be noticed. Everyone else is there to get drunk or watch football on the telly so they're ignored for the most part. Occasionally, someone will come up to them and ask for an autograph but all in all, it's a relatively peaceful evening.

Leaning back in his seat and folding his arms behind his head, Matt watches Karen try to create something bizarre with a folded napkin, Arthur giving her constructive criticism as she scowls at her creation. It's been two months since Alex left for America and he hasn't heard a word about her since then. Salome still doesn't call him like she used to, and Matt misses that little girl more than he could possibly say. He told her to look after Alex and he hopes she is. He hopes his Alex is getting along just fine – no matter how much he still aches inside with missing her.

He knows Karen and Arthur text Alex fairly often – especially Arthur – but neither of them ever breathes a word about her to him. It drives him mad. He feels like a drug addict going through the worst withdrawal of his life. He lies awake at night thinking of her, he goes through his day wondering what she's doing, if she's sleeping or if she's up thinking of him too. He just wants to see her again – just a glimpse of her curls, a flash of her eyes. He would take anything.

Just then, like a sign from the gods themselves, Karen's phone pings and she turns from her crumpled, pathetic looking napkin to glance at it on the table in front of her. Picking it up, she smiles and types out a quick response. "Alex," she says by way of explanation, turning back to her napkin.

Straightening immediately in his seat, Matt leans forward and tries to sound casual. "How's she been?"

Arthur glances at him but Matt ignores him, eyes on Karen, who doesn't look up. "Oh, she's just telling me about where Paul took her last night."

Matt swallows hard, heart pounding and the blood rushing in his ears so loudly that he can barely hear the pub music over its cacophony. "Paul? Who's Paul?"

"Oh come on," Karen says. "I told you about Paul."

"No," Matt says through gritted teeth. "You didn't."

Karen shrugs. "Well, Alex has been seeing him for about two months so I guess you could say he's her boyfriend. They have the cutest 'how we met story'!" She looks up, gushing. "He literally ran into her at the grocery store. Spilled her bags all over the parking lot."

"Charming," Matt says, voice clipped.

Arthur shoots him a look.

Matt ignores him again.

"Anyway," Karen says. "He's a high school history teacher and apparently very easy on the eyes."

Two months. Alex has been seeing a high school history teacher for as long as she's been away from him. While he's been thinking of her every spare second and missing her so much that her name is a constant buzz in the back his mind, she has been dating someone else. Someone who may or may not be good enough for her, someone who may or may not be treating her the way she deserves to be treated. Someone who may or may not treat Salome like the princess she is.

Someone who is most certainly kissing Alex, running his fingers through her hair…he wonders briefly if Alex has slept with him yet and then promptly shoves the thought aside before he goes outside and throws himself under a bus.

"Matt?" Karen asks, looking exasperated, and he realizes she has been saying his name repeatedly for the last few moments.

"What?" He asks, releasing his white-knuckled grip on his glass of ale and unclenching his jaw. "Sorry."

"Are you okay?" She asks, watching him with concern.

Matt nods numbly, looking away from her concerned gaze and Arthur's knowing stare. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess." He swallows, pushing his glass away. "Think I'm going to turn in early."

Karen smiles as he grabs his phone and stands up. "Missing the wife already? You're such a sap."

Offering a weak smile in return, Matt drops a hand to Arthur's shoulder and squeezes in lieu of a goodbye and walks out the door. The cool night air is like a slap to the face but Matt welcomes it, striding down the sidewalk and letting the wind bite at his exposed skin.

He isn't angry. He has no right to be. What he feels now is just burning jealousy and a deep melancholy that he doesn't think is ever going to go away. He misses her. So damned much. Why couldn't she have let him love her? Things would be so different now. He might be going home to her instead of someone he doesn't love, someone whose touch leaves him cold. Thinking of coming home to Alex, Matt smiles sadly. Salome would probably rush to meet him at the door, laughing delightedly when he scooped her up and spun her around. He thinks of kissing Alex hello and burying his hands in glorious curls, like Paul probably does now.

Shaking his head violently, Matt shoves his clenched fists into his pockets and sighs. It doesn't do to dwell on fantasies of things that will never be his.

Feeling tears sting his eyes, he shuts them and grimaces.

Never.

What a horrible word.

Matt bends his head against the wind and walks home, thoughts full of things that never were and never will be. The house is lit up from within when he arrives, and he knows Daisy is waiting up for him. Mentally preparing himself to deal with his wife, Matt takes his key from his pocket and unlocks the door.

Daisy is reclined on the sofa when he walks into the living room, dressed in sweatpants and her hair piled on top of her head, mobile pressed to her ear. "Hey," she says when she spots him, frowning and pulling the phone from her ear. "I thought you weren't going to be back for hours."

"I got bored," he says, dropping down onto the armchair across from her and turning up the telly.

Daisy looks at him for a long moment, silent. Putting the phone back to her ear, she says, "Can I call you back?" She hangs up, tossing her phone onto the coffee table. "What's the matter?"

Matt sighs. He really doesn't want to fight with Daisy tonight and this is not something he can discuss with her. "Nothing. Just tired."

Crossing the room, Daisy perches on his lap, draping her arms around his neck. "Well," she says, leaning close and kissing his cheek. "Since you're home early, why don't we watch a movie together? We never do that anymore."

Truthfully, Matt wants nothing more than to sit in a dark room and drink but that obviously isn't happening tonight. So instead, he nods once, defeated.

Smiling, Daisy curls up on his lap, resting her head on his shoulder and using the remote to find something to watch. She stops suddenly and Matt's breath catches and his heart stutters when he sees Alex staring back at him from the television. "This is a good movie," Daisy says. "Want to watch this?"

Daisy can't stand Alex. She's only offering to make him happy, to appease him. Alex stares back at him from his television screen, golden curls framing her face and green eyes alight. She smiles in a way she never smiles at him anymore and Matt feels a lump form in his throat. "No," he says, voice hoarse, and he hopes Daisy doesn't look to see the sheen of tears in his eyes. "Find something else."

Thankfully, Daisy doesn't look at him, frowning as she continues to flick through the channels. "Oh, 500 Days of Summer! I love this one." She looks at him now and Matt hopes he doesn't look on the verge of falling apart. "What about this one?"

"Fine."

They're just in time for the opening narration and Matt lets himself get lost in the words until he hears, "'He knows almost immediately she is who he has been searching for. This is a story of boy meets girl, but you should know upfront, this is not a love story.'"

He can't do this. He can't watch a man fall in love with a woman and lose her the same way he did Alex. He can't watch that girl move on and find someone else, the way Alex apparently has.

He can't. Not tonight. Maybe not ever again. Romantic movies are going to have to be blacklisted for the foreseeable future. Maybe one day it won't hurt so much, but today is not that day.

Snuggled up against him, Daisy watches the movie with a soft smile on her face and he knows she's just happy to be spending time with her husband. Because that's who he is now. He's her husband. Maybe it's time he started acting like it. If nothing else, it will distract her from this movie and he might escape watching it altogether.

Slowly and with deliberate sensuality, Matt slides the strap of Daisy's tank top down her shoulder, leaving it bare. Bending his head, he presses an open-mouth kiss to her skin, glancing up to see Daisy's eyes fluttering shut. He used to love this once, a long time ago. Any time spent focusing on Daisy's body was time well spent. Now, it takes all of his concentration to get through making love to her. Not once since their marriage has he thought of her during sex – it's always Alex he sees.

Turning in his arms, Daisy wraps hers around his neck and leans close, pressing her lips to his. Matt slides his arms around her waist, opening his mouth over hers and kissing her back harshly. Tonight is going to be different. If Alex can move on and be with someone else – sleep with someone else – then he can make love to his wife without thinking of Alex once. He focuses instead on the sensations, on how it feels as Daisy's fingers glide over the front of his trousers, and the way her naughty smile feels against his mouth.

Without warning, he stands up with Daisy in his arms and she giggles into his neck as he carries her down the hall to their bedroom. He tosses her onto the mattress and begins to undress, watching Daisy as she pulls off her clothes as well, tossing them hurriedly to the side. Free of clothing, Matt climbs onto the bed and covers Daisy's body with his own, touching his mouth to hers once more.

In his determination not to think of Alex, he's a little rougher with Daisy than he usually is but she doesn't seem to mind, clinging to him and releasing breathy little moans into his ear, legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Matt refuses to close his eyes and he ends up staring into Daisy's instead. It's strange, looking at her like this. He's usually off in his own head at this point but now, with her staring up at him, he knows she loves him, despite how much shit he puts her through.

She deserves so much better than him.

The woman he loves is dating someone else and he's going to stop fucking up his marriage. It's time to grow up and face the choices he has made. He will live with them and try to be that better man Daisy needs.

In his arms, Daisy stiffens with pleasure, crying out as she clenches around him. Without meaning to, Matt closes his eyes just as he reaches climax and Alex's face is all he sees. He comes with a muffled sob into Daisy's shoulder before slumping against her in defeat.

Daisy slides out from under him and curls her body around his, falling into a peaceful sleep within minutes. Matt turns over in the darkness of their bedroom and stares up at the ceiling, tears in his eyes. It's like Alex is under his skin, this disease that's eating away at his life and there's not a damn thing he can do to stop it. God help him, he doesn't want to stop it. He wants to curl up and wait for it to consume him completely.

Maybe then he'll finally have some peace.

XxX

He wakes in the morning to his mobile ringing on his bedside table. Reaching out blindly, Matt answers with a tired, "Hello?" He'd lain awake for hours last night, Alex the sole focus of his thoughts and when he'd finally fallen asleep, nightmares plagued him. This morning has come far too early.

"Hey mate," Arthur says, and he sounds tentative. "Look, I was thinking…" He sighs. "Want to go for coffee?"

Rubbing sleepily at his eyes, Matt glances to the other side of the bed and sees Daisy still sleeping. "Yeah, sure. Where?"

He meets Arthur at a tiny place not too far from his house and after they purchase their coffee, they go for a walk. For a while, they say nothing and Matt is left sipping his drink and sneaking curious glances at Arthur, wondering what all this is about.

"I'm sorry," Arthur blurts suddenly, and Matt frowns around a mouthful of hot coffee.

"What for?"

Arthur kicks idly at a pebble in the middle of the sidewalk. "I haven't exactly been there for you lately."

Matt shrugs. "I understand. And I'm glad – that you've been so supportive of Alex, I mean. She needs you."

"Yeah," Arthur says. "But you're my friend too and I haven't really been acting like it lately."

"And why not?" Matt asks, genuinely curious.

"Because I know you don't love Daisy," Arthur says quickly, and the words are like a punch in the chest. "I know you're still in love with Alex and you chose to get married anyway. If you could have seen Alex's face when I told her I knew…" He shakes his head. "Every time I look at you or see you with Daisy, I just remember her crying into my shirt and I want to punch you."

Matt swallows around the lump in his throat and rasps out, "Well, thanks for restraining yourself."

Arthur laughs quietly. "I'm trying, mate. I really am. I just wanted you to know."

"I appreciate your honesty," Matt says, but his thoughts are on Alex. On the pain he's put her through and how even if he left Daisy right now, it wouldn't fix anything. He still wouldn't deserve to even hold her hand.

They walk for a while longer, tossing their empty coffee cups into a garbage bin and ambling along a quiet path in a nearby park. They find a bench and watch mothers push strollers and run after screaming toddlers. Matt had wanted to be a father, once. He'd wanted to be a stepfather to Salome. He'd wanted to marry Alex and talk her into adopting with him. Once he realized he was in love with her, his thoughts had immediately strayed to a future with her and no matter what he did, his thoughts always led to parenthood. The thought of having a family with Alex used to make him smile at the whole world. Now, with Daisy, Matt can't see himself ever having children. He loves kids, but bringing a child into a home where its father will never love its mother seems cruel.

"Can I ask you something?" Arthur asks after a while.

Matt stretches his long legs out in front of him and stares at his shoes. "Go ahead."

"Why did you do it?"

The corner of Matt's mouth lifts in the ghost of an amused smile. "Do what? Get of bed this morning? Fall in love with Alex? You'll have to be more specific."

"Well any idiot can see why you'd fall in love with her," Arthur says, sighing. "That's not what I meant. Why did you marry Daisy when you're in love with Alex?"

Staring out at a little blonde girl climbing up the slide with adorable determination, Matt says dully, "Because Alex didn't want me."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Yes," he snaps. "I know that. But what the hell was I supposed to do when she kept telling me right to my face that she didn't love me? That I needed to move on and marry Daisy? I couldn't wait for her for the rest of my life."

For a moment, Arthur says nothing, watching Matt with silent intensity. Then, with elbows on his knees and chin in hands, he turns his gaze to the grass beneath him and says quietly, "She wanted to go to you. Alex, I mean. Told me she wanted more than anything to run into that church and beg you not to get married." He laughs humorlessly and Matt can't stop the tears from stinging his eyes. "She thought it was too late."

Turning away from Arthur so the other man won't see what a wreck he is, Matt stands up and paces away from him, scrubbing his hands roughly over his face and willing himself not to cry. Not here. If anyone takes a picture of him like this it will be all over the papers by tomorrow.

Too late? How could it have been too late? How could she ever think he would be happier with anyone but her?

God, if he'd just run to her like he wanted to. She would have taken him back with open arms. He knows that now. But that confirmation doesn't make anything better. It magnifies the ache inside his chest until it can't be called an ache anymore. It's a gaping wound prone to infection. It makes him want to crawl beneath that bench and wait for the heartache to do him in.

With red-rimmed eyes, he joins Arthur on the bench again and his friend watches him with sympathy. "I'm sorry," Arthur says. "I shouldn't have said that. I just -"

"No," Matt says. "I'm glad you told me."

It hurts like hell but he wouldn't trade the knowledge for anything. Any information on Alex that Arthur wants to offer up, Matt will gladly hear – secreting away all the precious tidbits and pulling them out on cold, lonely nights, thinking of what he could have had if only he had just persevered.

"This Paul," he says quietly. "Is he good to her?"

Arthur nods. "I think so, yeah."

"You'll tell me?" Matt asks, and he wishes his voice would stop cracking. "If he hurts her?"

Arthur snorts. "What would you do about it?"

"Beat the hell out of him," Matt answers instantly and Arthur starts to laugh before taking one look at Matt's stony expression.

"Right," he says. "I'll keep you informed."

The little girl on the slide has moved to the swings now, smiling and kicking her legs while a man in jeans and a sweater pushes her from behind. Matt watches them with undisguised longing. As deeply as he misses Alex, he misses Salome just as much.

"Are you going to be okay?" Arthur asks, watching him warily.

"I'll be fine," he answers automatically, voice emotionless.

"What about you and Daisy?"

Watching as the little girl shouts delightedly when her father pushes her higher, Matt smiles sadly. "I don't know, mate."

Chapter End Notes

Thanks for commenting! I love you all to bits for reading this angst. Chapter title from Near to You by Fine Frenzy. Thanks to Charina for being my beta:)

I come to you in pieces

Chapter by BrinneyFriday

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Exactly three weeks before filming for the finale is due to begin, there's a dinner for the people at BBC and Matt is required to be there. He doesn't want to go but skipping out wouldn't look good. So he puts on a tux, waits impatiently for Daisy to finish primping and they go. There are pictures to be taken and poses to be made. He smiles for the cameras, letting them all think he's still lost in wedded bliss while Daisy clings to his arm and beams. He's made a good liar out of her, too.

Inside, they sit at a table with Steven and Sue, Karen and her boyfriend, and Arthur. There are still two empty chairs.

A waiter comes by with his drink – scotch, neat. Matt takes a gulp just as he spots unmistakable blonde curls and he suddenly knows with a sense of dread who those seats are for.

Alex makes her way to their table, looking absolutely beautiful in a black gown and her wild curls framing her face. On her arm is a tall man with dark brown hair and a deep tan, like he spends all of this time out in the sun. Matt scoffs into his drink. That's Los Angeles for you. He stares at his own pale hand holding his drink and frowns. English skin. He wonders if Alex likes a tan, or if she misses his skin against hers. Then he pictures tan skin against her fair, creamy body and takes another large gulp of scotch, signaling to the waiter for another.

Alex sits across from him at the table, smiling at everyone as Paul the Golden Skinned History Professor pushes her chair in for her. He takes the seat next to Alex and immediately covers her hand with his. Matt glares at their joined fingers while Karen leans across the table and compliments Alex on her dress. The two chat for a few moments before Alex begins to introduce Paul to everyone around the table.

"This is Karen," she says, gesturing to the redhead. "And that's Arthur. They're my onscreen mummy and daddy."

Karen laughs, delighted. "I've heard a lot about you, Paul."

"Good things, I hope," Paul says, smiling and Matt scrutinizes his white teeth. Too white. It's

unnatural to have teeth so white.

"Definitely," Karen says. "You're apparently quite the catch."

Paul glances at Alex with an embarrassed smile. "Glad to hear it."

Alex smiles and looks away, picking up her glass of champagne. Matt watches her gulp it down, watching her throat flex and following the lines of her neck across her collarbones and into her ample cleavage. Fingers tight on his glass, he briefly lets himself remember happier times, when he trailed kisses down the same path his eyes just took and how she would laugh breathlessly and whisper how much she wanted him and could he please just hurry up?

Tearing his eyes away from her before anyone notices the focus of his gaze, Matt downs another scotch. The waiter automatically brings him another and by this time, Alex and Karen have finished chatting and Alex is introducing Paul to everyone else. After she mentions Steven and Sue, and Karen's boyfriend, she hesitates as her eyes meet Matt's for the first time all evening. She has been deliberately avoiding his gaze and it's been driving him mad. Now, though, with her green eyes boring into his, he almost wishes she would look away again. Her eyes are just an intense and beautiful as he remembers and the urge to kiss her until they flutter shut is just as strong as it has always been.

Looking away from her, Matt takes another gulp.

"And this is Matt," Alex says, once again not looking at him. She glances at Paul now, smiling. "And his wife Daisy."

"Your onscreen husband," Matt says before he can stop himself, tone a little chilly. No one seems to notice but Alex, whose eyes widen and Daisy, who glances at him sharply. "Isn't that right, sweetie?"

Offering him a strained smile – he recognizes that smile; it used to mean he would be in handcuffs for his cheek later but now, without that playful light in her eyes, it just means she doesn't even want to be in the same room with him – Alex tightens her fingers around Paul's and says, "Yes. Matthew's my fake husband."

Flinching at the use of his full name and the word 'fake', Matt forces his eyes from her and to the tablecloth, ignoring Daisy's questioning stare as he finishes his third scotch of the night.

After dinner and Matt's fourth scotch, a band begins to play on the stage in the front of the room and Karen pulls her boyfriend out onto the floor and Sue makes Steven get up as well. Daisy looks at Matt like she wants to dance but Alex is still sipping her first glass of champagne and Paul's arm is around her shoulders. He can't leave. He doesn't want to look at them anymore because it only makes him angry and tears at the gaping hole in his chest but he cannot bring himself to stop watching.

Alex won't look at him, talking to Arthur and Paul, pretending she can't sense his eyes on her. Arthur keeps shooting him warning glances, silently conveying that he's being too obvious. Matt doesn't care.

"So Paul," he says, when there is a lull in the conversation. "A history teacher, right?"

Paul nods. "That's right."

"Salome's history teacher?"

"No," Paul says. "I teach high school history."

"Interesting," he says, his tone conveying just the opposite. "And you've met Salome, have you? You like her? You like kids, Paul?"

Glancing at Alex, who stares silently at the tablecloth, hand tight around the stem of her champagne flute, Paul smiles warily and says, "Uh yes, I like kids. And Salome's great."

"She's brilliant," Matt corrects, eyes narrowed. He isn't looking at Paul, though. He's looking at Alex, who still refuses to acknowledge him. "Best little girl in the whole universe. And she's got the best mummy. A bloody dream, she is." He points a finger at him, still holding his glass as the ice clinks against the sides. "And you, Paul the history teacher, had better bloody well remember it, do you understand me?"

"Matt," Daisy says, laying a hand on his arm. "Stop it."

The sound of her voice is enough to make him falter. He had forgotten she was there. It probably wasn't the best idea to have five scotches. Or has it been four? He doesn't have time to figure it

out though because Alex pushes back her chair and retreats hastily from the room, waving Paul away and striding off with a hand over her mouth.

Arthur turns to glare at him – his face a mask of fury – and Matt is up in an instant. Daisy grabs his elbow, looking at him angrily. "Where are you going?"

"Getting another drink," he lies.

"I think you've had enough, Matt."

Matt removes her hand from his arm and says, "Why don't you let me decide when I've had enough, darling?"

Daisy stares at him and Matt stalks off, away from their table and the direction of the bar, going the way he'd seen Alex run off. The lobby is empty and so are the toilets. It takes him a while in his drunken clumsiness to make his way around the whole building but eventually he finds Alex in a deserted corridor, facing a window making up the entirety of one wall, staring into the night with a blank look on her face.

Standing at the other end of the hall, he slips his hands into his pockets and says, "You don't love him. I know you don't." He begins walking slowly toward her but she gives no indication that she even hears him. "He's -"

"Kind," Alex inserts stonily. "Handsome. Funny. A good cook. He likes me. He likes Salome. Yes, not my type at all."

"No," Matt says, reaching her side and pressing close to her, feeling the warmth of her body seeping through the fabric of his suit. If he really focuses, he can smell her perfume and that strawberry shampoo she uses on her hair. God, he misses her. "Your type is a bit younger."

Alex shoves him away from her, stepping back. "You're drunk," she says, eyes accusatory.

Matt leans against the window after regaining his balance. "I don't need to be sober to see that you don't love the man you're dating."

"No," Alex snaps. "I don't love him. But I'm trying, all right? I'm trying to move on if you would just stop - "

"He isn't good enough for you," Matt interjects, straightening furiously from his lounging position against the window, eyes fierce. "He's not nearly good enough. And you know what else? No man on earth is ever going to be bloody good enough!"

"You're married!" Alex cries. "It doesn't matter what I do! If I want to shag him in public for god's sake, it's none of your concern!" She stops, tears filling her eyes. "I can't do this, Matt. I can't."

Mouth open, Matt watches as she falls apart in front of him and he's never hated himself more. He's supposed to be better than this. He's supposed to be the one who makes her better. He puts things together for her – he makes everything okay. He isn't supposed to make it worse. This isn't him.

"Don't make me spend the rest of my life wishing every man I'm with is you," she says, tears sliding down her cheeks. Even crying, she's beautiful. Form fitting ball gown, golden ringlets around her face, and the most beautiful green eyes he will ever see no matter how long he lives. "You can't possibly want that for me, if you really love me."

"I do," he says instantly, moving forward with tears in his own eyes. "I do love you. I -"

Alex backs away from him again. "Then please," she breathes out through the tears. "Just let me move on. Can you do that, Matt? Please just let me try to be happy."

Matt can't even see her anymore through the haze of tears blurring his vision but he nods, gasping out brokenly, "Okay. Okay…I'm sorry." He turns away from her to look out the window and tries to pull himself together. He can see her reflection in the glass and she's clutching the skirts of her gown in one hand and wiping at her eyes with the other. He wants to hold her so much that his arms ache. He wants to press a kiss to the top of her head and just wrap her in his embrace. He wants to make it better. Instead, he presses a hand to her reflection in the glass and whispers, "I really do love you, Alex."

She smiles tearfully at his back. "I know you do."

The sound of heels clicking against the marble floor breaks their brief quiet moment of understanding and they both turn their heads sharply to see Daisy striding toward them, a frown

on her face.

Alex looks away from her so she won't see her red-rimmed eyes, busying herself with straightening her gown. "He's a little drunk," she says when Daisy reaches them and Matt is silently impressed with how steady her voice sounds. "Poor thing can barely stand up. You should take him home."

Before Daisy can say a word, Alex moves past her, walking off down the hallway toward the lobby. Matt doesn't watch her leave, gazing at out into the inky blackness of the night instead. He listens to Daisy's footsteps as she approaches him but he doesn't acknowledge her.

She sighs, staring a hole into the side of his head. "You're a bastard, Matt."

"I know."

"Let's get our coats and leave," she says, taking his arm.

Matt lets her lead him away, his mind too filled with Alex to protest. He just wants to go home, sleep off the wretched hangover he's going to have in the morning and forget everything about this night but how Alex stills smells as wonderful as he remembers, and the way her body had felt pressed against his, however briefly.

When they reach the lobby, Paul is helping Alex into her coat. He doesn't look at Matt, focusing instead on Alex. He smoothes her coat over her frame and she smiles at him over her shoulder. Because he's a glutton for punishing himself, Matt wonders if they'll go back to their hotel and undress. If they'll make love under hotel sheets, like he still remembers so vividly.

The thought of some other man touching Alex that way, pleasuring her and seeing her beautiful body naked, watching her fall apart beneath him and hearing that wonderful moan…Matt shakes the thought away because if he doesn't, his stomach full of scotch is going to be emptied into the nearest potted plant.

As Daisy wrestles him into his coat, irritation in her every movement, Matt watches Alex and Paul move toward the door. Paul wraps an arm around her, leading her out into the night. Matt was supposed to be the one to witness all those things – the way Alex bit her lip when he teased her, the way her hands scrabbled at his back when he didn't go fast enough for her, the way her fingers clung to his hair and her back arched when he mouthed her neck – and instead he has to watch someone else walk away with the love of his life, his arm around her waist.

Suddenly and without warning, Matt turns and retches into the potted fern by the door. Daisy groans and begins to pat his back as he heaves up liquid onto the poor unsuspecting plant. Eyes watering, Matt grips the edge of the pot and tries to keep from falling to the floor, just wishing it could be so easy to get rid of the wasting disease called Alex Kingston.

XxX

The car ride to the hotel is filled with awkward meaningful silence, occasionally punctuated by Paul glancing in her direction. Alex ignores his stares, gazing out the window of their taxi and wondering if her heart will ever stop racing. Her encounter with Matt has left her reeling. His eyes when he'd seen her walk in with Paul. Those three little words, stated vehemently at first and then whispered as he stared out the window in that lonely corridor.

He still loves her.

Blinking back tears, Alex lets out a quiet breath. He'd looked at her like she held his very heart in the palms of her hands and she'd never felt so fiercely protective in her life. She'd wanted to kiss him then; wanted to wrap her arms around him and feel his body pressed against hers once more. It scares her that the only reason she didn't wasn't because he's married but because he'd been drunk.

She shudders to think what would have happened in that hallway if Matt hadn't had too much to drink. Staring out at the busy London streets, Alex feels Paul take her hand in his but all she can think of is capturing Matt's lips in a hungry kiss and shoving him against the window in that damned corridor. She thinks of his roaming hands on her and his quiet moan against her mouth and shuts her eyes, covering them with a shaking hand.

"It's him, isn't it?"

Paul's voice in her ear brings Alex back from her horrible, wonderful imaginings and instantly into harsh reality – like a bucket of water washing away a pretty sidewalk painting. Turning from the window, she sees him watching her with a resigned expression on his face.

"What?"

"The reason your smile never reaches your eyes," Paul says. "The reason you've been staring out

the window for the last ten minutes like you can't decide whether you want to smile or cry. It's him."

Alex opens her mouth to respond but nothing comes out, so she shuts it again, staring at him in bewilderment. Eyes wide, she pulls her hand from his and tries again. "Paul, I'm not- "

He shakes his head, smiling gently. "I know you're not seeing him now. You would never. Not while he's with her. I don't know what went on between you two before but it's obvious neither one of you has let go yet."

Alex swallows heavily, feeling her eyes begin to water. "I have," she says, even as her voice cracks. "I have let go, Paul. I don't love him."

Paul smiles; looking at her like she has just proved his point. "I never said you did, Alex."

Alex feels a tear slip down her cheek and Paul's thumb catches it, sweeping it away when he cups her face in his hand. "It doesn't mean anything," she says. "He's married and I'm too old for him anyway."

"He doesn't seem to think so," Paul says and Alex pulls away from his touch, shaking her head. "Alex -"

"No," she says, wiping at her eyes. "This is ridiculous. That part of my life is over."

"Alright," Paul says, nodding slowly as their cab pulls up to the hotel entrance. He gets out of the car and Alex waits, breathing deeply as he walks around to her side of the car and opens the door for her. She steps out, letting him take her arm and lead her inside.

They don't say another word as they walk through the hotel lobby and make their way to the elevators. The silence between them is only interrupted by the irritatingly calm music playing in the lift and the hum of machinery as it reaches their floor. Walking side by side down the hall, they reach their room and slide the card through the lock before entering, shutting the door silently behind them.

Alex shrugs out of her coat and tosses it onto a nearby chair, running a tired hand through her hair and turning to him. "I mean it, Paul," she says, and her voice is stronger now. "What I had with Matt…it's over. Nothing's going on. Matt was just drunk tonight and -"

"And you still couldn't look at him without your eyes lighting up," Paul interrupts, and Alex falls silent, stunned. He steps closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're still waiting for him; whether you realize it or not. I can see it in your eyes." He leans forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "But I like you, Alex. A lot. And I'm not going anywhere. I'll still be here when waiting gets old."

Oh. That isn't at all where she thought this conversation was headed. Alex had been sure Paul was breaking up with her after that scene at the banquet. Now, as he bends his head and presses his lips against hers, she doesn't know if she's relieved or disappointed. She shouldn't be disappointed that the lovely man she's dating isn't breaking up with her.

Alex may be rusty at this dating business, but she definitely knows that.

It takes her a moment to react to his kiss in her confusion but eventually, Alex wraps her arms around his neck and presses her mouth firmly against his. There's nothing there. It's like kissing a stranger on the street – no passion, no urgency, no pressing desire to rid him of his clothes and cover every inch of his naked skin with her tongue. Just a vague feeling of affection. It had taken some getting used to, after the almost animalistic fervor she had felt with Matt. But it hadn't been just lust. It had been everything – love for everything about him and everything he did and was.

Paul's hand slips from her cheek, along her arm and around to her back, fiddling with the zipper on her dress. He slides the zip down and steps back, watching her black gown pool at her feet. Without pausing to take in her half-naked form, his hands are on her again and she lets out a quiet moan that she doesn't truly feel.

Paul is a great guy but his touch doesn't set her on fire. She's starting to think that feeling had been exclusive to Matt. It hadn't happened before him and it will probably never happen again. Everyone else is so bland when she compares them to him and how he made her feel. But Alex isn't about to let him ruin her for other men, just because they can't ignite some unknown passion in her with a mere glance. So she makes do.

His mouth leaves hers to trail down her chest and she forces her hands to his belt, undoing it and reaching for the button on his trousers. She swallows back the stale taste his kiss always leaves in her mouth and pants into his neck while he unclips her bra, flinging it away and turning his attention back to her.

One hand cupping her breast, he slides the other into her hair and begins to kiss along her jaw, murmuring about how much he wants her and asking if she has any idea what she does to him.

Shutting her eyes, Alex brings his lips to hers and kisses him again, if only so she doesn't have to respond.

Paul is a great guy but even after all this time, it still isn't enough.

Chapter End Notes

Charina has already told me she hates me so I'm ready for the verbal abuse if you all need to get your feelings out. Haha Thanks for commenting! Chapter title from Red's Pieces.

Here comes my fare thee well

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

"What? No!"

"Yes! They're amazing!"

"You've got to be kidding me." Arthur stares at Karen for a long moment while she stares back unflinchingly. "Coldplay is not better than Mumford and Sons, you absolute loon."

"I like them!" Karen insists, unwavering in her loyalty.

"Are you just saying that because you're not deep enough to understand Mumford's lyrics?" Arthur asks, and Karen tosses a saltshaker at him, gasping in indignation.

Matt smiles slightly at their usual antics, but tonight, even their bickering cannot distract him from the woman sitting next to him in the booth. Daisy stares silently at the table top, fingers drumming against her short skirt. She hadn't uttered a word of protest when he suggested they go out with Karen and Arthur tonight, and her unusual compliance is a little worrying.

They haven't talked about that what happened at the banquet that night two weeks ago. It's like the giant elephant in the room they're doing their best to ignore. After Matt had finished emptying his stomach of scotch, Daisy had driven them both home and put him to bed without a word. The next morning, she acted as though nothing at all had happened. Matt had been hungover but he definitely remembers glaring at Paul and spouting angry, drunken words.

He remembers Alex and her desperate plea. He remembers telling her he loved her. Daisy had to have been furious, especially when he threw up in that plant, but she doesn't ever mention it. Instead, she's more distant than she used to be. She doesn't cuddle up to him at night and she doesn't reach for his hand when they're out together. It's a subtle difference but Matt notices. Normally, he'd be happy Daisy isn't all over him but after what happened at the banquet, he just feels like a prick.

At the same time, however, Daisy smiles more often now. She barely touches him anymore and while they haven't had a real conversation in quite some time, now they barely speak unless they have to. It's like they're living separately but under the same roof. Yet, she seems happier than

she's been since their honeymoon. Matt knows she's probably seeing someone else. There's no other explanation that makes sense.

It's surprising, how little he cares. He cheated before they were married and Daisy's cheating now. It's only fair, really - especially since Matt is in love with another woman; whether he's touched her since he married Daisy or not. His marriage is essentially over and he knows it. Daisy could bring her new bloke home with her and he wouldn't even bat an eye.

Daisy's a beautiful girl and far too good for him. He'd known she wouldn't put up with his bullshit forever.

"Matt," Arthur interrupts his musings and Matt snaps his gaze from a spot on the table to give his friends his full attention.

"Hmm?"

"Please tell her Mumford and Sons have better lyrics than Coldplay."

Matt shrugs. "More of a Thom Yorke man, myself."

Arthur frowns at him like he's showing signs of mental affliction and he's concerned for Matt's wellbeing. "Thom Yorke is a whole different class of amazing. Hardly counts. It's like comparing apples to a bloody chocolate pie. Where are you tonight?"

Shaking his head, smile rueful, Matt runs a hand through his hair and sighs. "Sorry, mate. Not thinking clearly."

"You aren't the only one," Karen says, scowling down at her phone. "Can you believe this? Alex is thinking about breaking up with Paul."

"What?" Matt asks, and instantly, Daisy's eyes are on him. She hasn't paid so much attention to the conversation all evening. He swallows back the multitude of questions on the tip of his tongue and sits back in the booth, slouching and trying not to look too interested.

Karen shakes her head, typing out a quick message. "Hang on, I'm just telling her she's crazy."

Done, she puts her phone back on the table and sighs heavily. "I don't know what she's thinking. Paul's so good for her."

Matt says nothing. Arthur avoids his gaze entirely, Karen is totally oblivious to the sudden tension, and Daisy is still looking at him meaningfully. He knows without a doubt now that Daisy knows. She might not have known before, but he had certainly given himself away at that dinner.

After a long moment, Daisy looks away, going back to staring at the table like she'd never stopped. Arthur pushes another drink in Matt's direction without looking at him and Matt hopes Arthur can feel his silent gratitude as he gulps down another ale.

XxX

When they make it home that night, it's late and he and Daisy have barely exchanged a word. He'd caught her staring at her phone screen and smiling on the ride home, and as Matt tosses the car keys onto the coffee table in the living room, he turns to Daisy and just says it.

"I can't do this anymore, Daze."

Still in the process of shedding her coat, Daisy freezes. In her hand, her phone buzzes but she ignores it. "What?" Her voice sounds shaky but Matt can tell she knows what he's talking about.

Sinking down onto the sofa, head in his hands, he says quietly, "I can't pretend we're happily married anymore. I act all day. I don't want to do it when I get home too." He swallows, licking his lips, before raising his head to meet her stunned gaze. "I want out."

Pale and shaken, Daisy stares at him silently for a long moment before her mouth thins and she says, "Going back to your girlfriend now that she's having problems with the history teacher?"

"Stop it," he says, voice going cold.

"How long has that been going on anyway?" She asks, unflinching in the face of his glare. "Come on, Matt, you can tell me. How long have you been fucking someone old enough to be your mother?"

Before Matt can suppress of his rage, he reaches out a hand and swipes the crystal vase off the coffee table as he jumps to his feet. "Don't you fucking dare," he says, and Daisy recoils as the glass shatters all over the floor. "And there is nothing going on between me and Alex."

"Not now, maybe," she concedes. "But when we were dating, right? When did you stop? Our wedding day?"

"Yeah, because you're so damn perfect," he snaps, but he doesn't try to deny his affair with Alex. Daisy isn't an idiot; she'd seen everything she needed to see two weeks ago. "Who have you been texting all night?"

"Oh, like you have any right to point your finger at me!" Daisy shouts, tears filling her eyes. "Like you have any fucking right!"

"I stopped seeing Alex before we even got engaged!" Matt yells, and he looks pointedly at Daisy's phone as it buzzes again. "At least I'm not seeing someone while I'm married."

"Maybe you haven't cheated while we've been married," Daisy says, voice tearful. "But you might as well have! Emotionally, you're constantly somewhere else. I've tried so hard not to see it, but it's always there. I just didn't know why until recently." She runs a hand through her hair, tears slipping down her cheeks. "The way you looked at her when she walked in…I have no idea why I didn't see it before. Didn't want to, I guess."

Matt stares at her, unmoving. The guilt is debilitating.

"Everything made sense after that," she sniffles, trying to compose herself even as her eyes continue to water and tears stream down her face. "How protective you are of her when I mention her, how careful you are never to touch her unless you're acting as the Doctor. Why we never went out with your friends if Alex was going to be there. You didn't want her to see us together." She laughs brokenly. "Sweet, if you think about it."

Tears in his eyes and a knot in his chest, Matt watches Daisy wrap her arms around herself and cry. "I'm sorry," he whispers, knowing it isn't enough.

"How?" She asks in a choked voice. "How can you want her? What can she possibly give you?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat. Everything. Alex gives him everything he'll ever need

with just a glance. But that's not what Daisy needs to hear right now, and it's not why he's asking for a divorce. Their problems are bigger than infidelity. "I don't want out because of Alex, Daisy. It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with how not right we are for each other."

Daisy scoffs, shaking her head.

"We make each other miserable!" He shouts. "Don't you see that? Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life?"

And it's true. Every word. Matt may love Alex more than he's ever loved anyone in his life but even if he never sees her again, he doesn't want to be this person. He doesn't want to be who he has become.

Daisy doesn't answer him, staring at the floor and sniffling.

He sighs. "I'm just tired of fighting. I'm tired of being unhappy, and of seeing you unhappy. You deserve better than me, Daze." He smiles weakly when she looks up, meeting his eyes through the tears in hers. "We both deserve to be with someone we love and who loves us. We're too young to settle."

His words seemed to have their affect on Daisy, who sinks slowly to the floor and stays there, covering her face. They don't say anything for a long time but when she finally speaks, her voice is strained. "You should be with her, Matt."

"Daisy," Matt starts, "Don't - "

"I've found a great guy. He looks at me like I used to wish you would." She raises her head and laughs humorlessly. "The way you look at her."

He says nothing but the pain in his eyes must be evident because Daisy looks away, resting her cheek against her knee.

"You love her," she says softly. "I don't understand it, but you do. Maybe I always knew…deep down. Maybe that's why I've never liked her."

Matt doesn't try to deny loving Alex; it's something he'll never lie about. It's something he wishes he could tell everyone – even strangers on the street. He thinks of her smile, her laughter. Her hand in his and the way she used to wrinkle her nose when she thought he was being silly. Not loving her had never been an option.

Daisy wipes at her nose and turns her head, resting her chin on her knees. Her red-rimmed eyes meet his and she breathes in deeply. "You should be with her, if she's so important that not even marriage to someone else can take away what you feel for her."

Standing in the middle of his living room, looking down at his heartbroken wife telling him to go to the woman he really loves, Matt wonders if any man in existence has ever felt so low. "Daze, Alex isn't -" He stops, his voice coming out raspy. He wants to say that Alex won't have him, that Alex is with Paul, that he doesn't deserve to have Daisy be nice to him. Not now. Not after everything. He wants to open his mouth and say all of this but his voice won't seem to cooperate.

Daisy ignores him, her stare piercing. "I may hate you right now," she says. "But I don't want to see you miserable, Matt. I've found someone who loves me, and everyone deserves that kind of happiness. Even you."

Tears blur his vision and he chokes out, "I'm sorry, Daisy. I'm sorry I buggered things up for us."

"Don't be," she says, and though he can't see her through his watering eyes, he can hear the tears in her voice. "If you ever really loved me, you wouldn't have touched her in the first place."

Matt can think of nothing to say to that, so he doesn't say anything. Instead, he sinks down onto the sofa again and buries his head in his hands. Daisy remains on the floor for a while, staring at the grains in the hardwood floor. The only sound in the now quiet house is the ticking of the grandfather clock down the hallway.

After a while, Daisy gets to her feet and walks over to him. She hesitates only a moment before sitting down next to him, touching a hand to his shoulder. Matt immediately wraps his arms around her, pulling her into him and burying his face in her shoulder. Daisy presses her face into his neck and he feels her damp eyelashes flutter against his skin.

In the silence of their living room, they hold each other and breathe in their last painful moment together as husband and wife. That night, Daisy packs her bags and Matt goes to bed alone, his wedding ring on the nightstand beside him.

XxX

Before the rumors begin and tell the people he cares about what's going on in his life before he can, Matt gathers his courage and breaks the news to his family that he's divorcing his wife. The look on his mum and dad's faces when he tells them are something he will never forget. His mother had just wanted him to find someone and have a family, and he knows she'd been hoping Daisy would be the one he settled down with. A year-long marriage probably wasn't what she had in mind when he told her he'd proposed to Daisy. He hates disappointing his parents, but this is his life and they understand that. They'll support him no matter what he does and they just want him to be happy. It feels good to have that kind of unconditional love in the midst of the wreck he's made of his life.

Arthur isn't at all surprised when he tells him, but he squeezes Matt's shoulder in sympathy and says, "I'm sorry, mate."

"Don't be," Matt nudges him affectionately, amazed that he can show any sympathy at all after what he's watched Matt put Alex through. "You and I both knew it wouldn't last long. You knew before I married her that it was a mistake."

"Are you…"Arthur trails off like he doesn't want to finish his sentence, but Matt lifts an eyebrow encouragingly and he plows on, "Have you told Alex?"

"No," Matt shakes his head grimly. "She's with Paul; she's happy. I promised her I would leave her alone and I'm going to."

Arthur says nothing and Matt thinks he's probably grateful Alex is still free to find someone who isn't such a wanker. He doesn't blame him.

Whatever had gotten into Alex that night when she was texting Karen at the pub, it seems to have passed because Karen brings in pictures on her phone, letting him see Paul with his arms wrapped around Salome in Alex's back garden. Matt had offered Karen a weak smile and turned away, an uncomfortable knot in his chest.

Maybe Salome will get a stepfather after all. Someone who can be a father to her and not a friend. Someone who can take care of her and her mother, and be there like he never could be.

He goes to Karen's flat next, showing up on her doorstep late in the evening and hoping her boyfriend isn't around because she'd smacked him last time for not calling first and interrupting.

She opens the door in flannel pajamas and her hair pulled sloppily onto the top of her head and Matt can't help but grin despite the bad news he brings. Bless her; Kaz always manages to amuse him, even unintentionally.

Hand on her hip, she leans against the doorframe and frowns at him. "Alright. You're here past dinner without your usual chocolate offering and you've got puppy dog eyes. Have a fight with Daisy?"

Damn her.

"Erm," he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and meets her eyes. "Something like that. It's over, Kaz. We're getting a divorce."

Eyes widening, Karen gasps and yanks him inside her flat by the collar of his shirt, shutting the door behind them. "What?" Her voice is almost shrill and he winces. "Are you sure?"

He snorts. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I was there."

"No," she shakes her head in annoyance. "I mean are you sure you're not just hitting a rough patch or something? Maybe it was just a bad row and you can still work things out."

"We can't work this out, Kaz," he sighs, leaning against her flat door and running a hand over his face.

"Why?" She asks, eyes searching his face. "Couldn't you try counseling or something? I thought you were happy? For God's sake Matt, it's only been a year! At least try!"

"I have tried!" He shouts, dropping his hand. "I've been bloody well trying since my sodding wedding day Kaz, and I'm tired!"

For a long moment, silence stretches between them as Karen stares at him with wide eyes and Matt glares at the floor. "Okay," she says finally, taking a deep breath. "We need booze."

Matt lifts his eyes slowly from the floor and smiles weakly.

They wind up sitting across from each other on her kitchen floor, passing a bottle between them. Karen doesn't start in on him right away, though he can tell she wants to. Instead, she waits until they've had about five sips of wine each before squaring her shoulders and looking straight at him, her expression business-like but somehow still sympathetic.

"I know you're hiding something from me," she starts, and he doesn't protest. "I know you, Matt. And you've had your lying face on whenever you're around me for over a year."

He stares at her, dumbfounded, the bottle of wine gripped tightly in his hand.

"I know you think I'm just daft Karen but just because I haven't said anything doesn't mean I don't notice when something's bothering one of my best friends, okay?" She prods at his leg with her foot and meets his eyes carefully. "Now…does your lying face have anything to do with Alex's lying face?"

It feels like someone has just punched Matt in the stomach but Karen just blinks up at him like she'd asked him if she would need an umbrella when she went out.

"What are you -?"

"Lying face, Matt," she says sternly. "I can see it right now."

He scowls, wondering when he became so transparent, and says nothing.

"Alright," she says slowly. "Let's try this, then. Why are you and Daisy getting a divorce?"

"Because we're not happy," he answers honestly. "We're not right for each other."

"And when did you figure this out?"

He glances up at her with a pained smile. "Before I married her."

Karen refuses to let the surprise show on her face and merely squints at him instead. "Then why did you?"

He shrugs.

"Matt."

If he tells her, she'll hate him. She's his best mate and she'll hate him for lying to her, for hurting Alex, for hurting Daisy. For buggering up his whole life and never saying a word. But she's looking at him so earnestly and after all the time he's been keeping things from her, he knows that she deserves to know the truth.

"I was trying to get over someone," he says quietly. "It was stupid but I was heartbroken and I didn't know what else to do."

Karen inhales sharply, eyes narrowed. "Alex. You were seeing Alex before you married Daisy, weren't you?"

Wretched, he nods.

"Oh my god, Matt!" She stares at him like she's never seen him before and it's exactly what he'd been afraid of. "Did you break up with her? What the hell is wrong with you? Hasn't she been through enough? She's our Alex for God's sake and you just - "

He glances up sharply. "If I broke up with her, I wouldn't have been heartbroken and trying to get over her, would I? She pushed me away."

Karen stops mid-tirade and frowns. "But that's not right. The way she looked when I saw her the night before your wedding, it was like somebody had taken her heart and stomped all over it." She glares. "Which makes sense now!"

Shutting his eyes briefly, Matt swallows hard. "I told her I loved her, Kaz. And she left."

Karen doesn't say anything for a long moment and when he looks up, he finds her looking at him oddly. "Y-you loved her?"

He laughs quietly, painfully. "Love. I love her. Present tense."

Without a word, Karen scoots across her kitchen floor and sits next to him, her leg pressed against his as she joins him in leaning back against the refrigerator. She takes the wine bottle from him and swallows a large mouthful, wiping the back of her hand when she's finished.

"Okay," she says breathing deeply. "Start at the beginning."

So he tells her. Everything. Well, not everything. There are some things he'd rather were kept between himself and Alex, but for the most part, he doesn't hide much. He tells her how infatuated he'd been with Alex from the beginning, how that infatuation started turning into something more after their set kisses. How he'd gone to her that night and changed everything. The way it started out as just sex and then he'd fallen for Alex and her little girl hard, and there'd been no turning back. But he'd scared her away. Alex, who thought she wasn't enough for him, who mistakenly thought he'd be happier with someone else. He tells her how he'd pined after her for months before proposing to Daisy in a desperate attempt to move on with his life.

And Karen already knows how very badly that had gone.

After she is through telling him what a pillock he is and berating him for waiting so long to tell her, Karen cradles the half empty bottle of wine to her chest and refuses to share it with him. "God, I just wished I'd hugged her more, y'know?" She turns to glare at him. "Because apparently she needed it, thanks to your idiot face."

She punches him hard on the arm and Matt yelps, rubbing at the tender spot but Karen doesn't look sorry at all.

"That was stupid, Matt," she says, shaking her head. "It was stupid and irresponsible and you've hurt a lot of people."

"I know," he says softly, his head down. "I wish I could take it all back but I can't. So I'm trying to do the right thing now, letting Daisy find someone who can love her the way she deserves."

"And you?" Karen asks, leaning her head back against the fridge and watching him closely. "Are

you going to try to find someone else?"

He shakes his head, inwardly scoffing at the very idea. "There isn't anyone else."

She sighs. "Well if you're so bloody damn sure, why are you sitting here? Go get your damn woman."

Snorting, he picks at a hole in his jeans and feels warmth flood through him. She may think he's an idiot but she's still his best mate. He doesn't know why he'd been so afraid to tell her. "I can't. She's with Paul. And even if she weren't, she wouldn't want me. Not after everything."

"Oh please," Karen scoffs. "Of course she would. She loves you, you jerk. You know it, I know it. Hell, I bet Paul knows it by now. I think she's just scared."

"I promised I would leave her alone," he says. "Let her move on."

Karen shakes her head. "If you're honestly going to let the love of your life get away without a fight, then maybe you don't deserve her. Alex should have somebody who'll do anything to get her back. She's fabulous and amazing and she deserves someone who knows it."

He raises his head, glaring at her. "Yes, thank you. I know she's brilliant. She deserves a hell of a lot better than me."

"You love her, yes?"

He nods.

"More than anyone else? Better than anyone else?"

He straightens. "No one loves her like I do."

Karen nods, raising the bottle of wine to her lips. "And that's what she deserves."

Chapter End Notes

Gah, sorry for not replying to comments this time around but I've just been busier than usual. But please be aware that I love you all and your comments. You're the best! Chapter title from The Fray's Vienna.

Maybe I'll be the lucky one

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

In the coming days, the news of Matt's impending divorce breaks and the press follows him everywhere trying to get a quote and an explanation besides 'irreconcilable differences'. He keeps his head down, wears a beanie cap and sunglasses whenever he goes out, and doesn't say a word. Daisy fares no better, the press hounding her every move as well, but she sticks to their agreement to remain silent.

Alex comes back to film for the finale and she brings Salome with her. Matt outright grins at the sight of them walking onto set their first day before he remembers the way he left things with Alex

– a drunken confession of love after embarrassing her at that dinner. She probably hates him.

Salome beams when she spots him, relinquishing Alex's hand and bounding toward him, arms outstretched. Matt laughs delightedly when she throws herself into his arms. He catches her easily, lifting her into the air and spinning around, feeling lighter than he has in months when she giggles and clings to him.

"I missed you, Matty," Salome says, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Oh, I've missed you too, poppet," he says, breathing in the scent of freshly laundered cotton and crayons. "You have no idea."

"I've been keeping my promise," Salome whispers into his ear and Matt tightens his grip on her, watching Alex stare at them from across the room. "I've been taking care of mom, like you said."

Matt closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the top of Salome's head. "I'm glad, poppet. Thank you." Pulling back, he offers her a big smile and says, "Now, why don't you find Steven and pester him while I go say hello to your mummy, eh?"

Salome grins. "Okay."

Slipping from his grasp, she scurries off in the direction of Steven's loud Scottish voice and Matt turns to look at Alex again. She hasn't moved from her place just inside the door, watching him warily. Hands in his pockets, he lopes over to her with hesitation in his every step. Alex seems to relax when she realizes he's just as nervous as she is, uncrossing her arms and offering him a small

smile.

"Hello," he says quietly when he reaches her.

Alex glances at the floor, hands clasping her handbag tightly. "Hi."

Clearing his throat and reaching up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly, Matt says, "I'm sorry, Alex. About what happened. I was drunk and horribly rude to Paul and I - "

"It's okay," she says, lifting her eyes to his. "Really. Let's just…start over."

"Right," Matt nods, glancing around the room and doing his best not to look at her because if he does, he isn't sure he could ever look away, now that there's nothing stopping him. He wants so much to just pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgets all about that history teacher from California. "So I made a good first impression on Paul, then?"

Alex laughs dryly. "Oh yes. He finds you very charming."

"Well," Matt says loftily. "I've been told I'm irresistible."

"About as irresistible and blameless as a puppy chewing on a slipper," she says, watching Salome wander back to them, dragging Steven behind her.

Matt looks at her and smiles.

XxX

The next time he sees her that day; she looks at him with pained eyes and a pale face. He can only guess that someone has told her about his divorce. He's been trying to keep it from her; afraid she might look at him exactly like that. He doesn't want her to feel uncomfortable around him. He wants her to feel free to laugh with him again, like she had this morning. He has missed her laugh so damned much.

He sighs when she sits down next to him on the steps outside his trailer. "You don't have to worry," he says. "I'm not going to jump you or something just because I'm getting a divorce."

"Don't be stupid," she says angrily. "You should have said something."

"Why?" He asks, turning to glance at her. "So you can look at me like that? I thought we were starting over."

"If we're going to be friends again, then I should know you're divorcing your wife," Alex says, scowling at her knees.

"I couldn't tell you," he says, joining her in staring at her knees. He loves those knees, and fond memories of placing tickling kisses against them flash before his eyes.

"Why not?"

"You know why," he says softly and he hears Alex draw in a sharp breath.

"Yes," she whispers. "I suppose I do…I'm sorry, Matt. Divorce is never easy."

Matt sneaks a glance at her to see her watching him with genuine concern. "I'm fine. Honestly." He smiles gently. "It…it was inevitable. We weren't right for each other. We both knew it."

He wants her to ask who is right for him so he can tell her 'you, always and only you'. He wants to reach for her hand, and for a moment, he starts to. He wants to pull her into him, bury his hands in those curls he misses so much, and kiss her breathless. He wants to hear that wonderful quiet noise she makes when he pleasantly surprises her with a good snog. And then he remembers Paul and stops his hand from reaching out to hers, pulling it back into his lap. Despite the way Karen's words reverberate in his head, he'd promised he would allow Alex to move on and be happy, and he won't break a promise to her. Not after everything he's already put her through.

And so they sit there together on the steps for a long time not looking at each other and never touching, the silence and the distance yawning wide between them.

XxX

Salome still has some of the sketching paper he'd bought her before she left last time, months ago. On a particularly warm day, he takes her outside with her colored pencils and they sit on a picnic bench during one of his breaks and sketch together. Matt has been spending time with her as often as he possibly can since filming started a week ago. Her presence in his life has been missed more than he can say, and having her across from him, biting her lip in concentration as she draws a picture of him standing next to the TARDIS and a rainbow colored badger, it's like his birthday has come early.

Across the lot, Alex is pacing back and forth between the trailers – on her mobile to Paul, apparently. She's still in costume, though she's finished filming for the day. Wearing River's customary green dress and boots, she looks frazzled as she speaks into her phone. She turns in his direction and he quickly averts his gaze back to the page in front of him.

Deciding on a red pencil next, he picks it up and begins to color. Across from him, Salome pauses in her drawing to reach a hand into the bag of marshmallows between them, pulling out a handful.

"Matty?" She asks, popping a marshmallow into her mouth. "How come you're not married to Daisy anymore?"

He almost chokes, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Well…"

"Is it because Daisy wants babies and you don't?" Salome asks, brown eyes curious.

Matt wants to hug her. And then go find Alex and hug her too. Both of them deserve so much better than what Florian had given them. "No, sweetheart. That's not why."

Salome tilts her head. "Then why?"

"Well," he says, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on his trousers and licking his lips. "I still care about Daisy very much, but we just weren't right for each other. We didn't get along. Didn't fit, I suppose."

Salome bites her lip, looking thoughtful. "You mean she wasn't the right princess?"

Matt frowns. "What?"

"Well, it's like when Prince Charming is looking for Cinderella and the shoe wouldn't fit just anyone. Your shoe didn't fit Daisy right," Salome explains patiently. "So you gotta try someone else."

Staring at her in amusement and oddly entertained, Matt says with a twitching mouth, "I suppose so."

Salome smiles at him and turns back to her sketch, and shaking his head in bewilderment, Matt glances back to Alex. She's still pacing, head down as she speaks into her phone. He wonders if she's just having a serious conversation with Paul – maybe they're trying to decide who's going to hang up first – or if they're arguing. As much as he loves Alex and wants her to be happy, Matt doesn't know which one he would prefer. He loves Alex and he wants to be with her, but what he wants most is for Alex to be happy. And if Paul is the one to make her happy, then so be it.

"Do you like Paul?" He asks Salome, switching his gaze from Alex to her.

Salome shrugs. "Sure, he's nice." She glances up, blue colored pencil in hand. "He doesn't play with me like you do, though."

Matt smiles, feeling his heart swell. "Well, not everyone understands how much fun it is to hang out with you, poppet."

Salome beams at him.

"What about your mum?" Matt asks apprehensively. "Does he treat your mummy well?"

"I guess so," Salome says, putting another handful of marshmallows in her mouth. "He kisses her a lot."

At this, Salome makes a face and Matt has to stop himself from joining her. Instead, he tries to look like an interested adult.

"But mom never kisses him first. And one time, I saw her wipe her mouth when he turned away."

Giggling like she's never heard anything funnier, Salome reaches for a different pencil but Matt feels his chest tighten at the girl's words. Oh, Alex.

"Matty, why did she do that?" Salome asks. "Is Paul contagious?"

Matt smiles weakly. "Don't worry, poppet. If Paul has cooties, he can't give them to you or your mum."

Satisfied, Salome draws whiskers on the rainbow badger, tongue poking out in concentration. "Hey Matty?"

At this point, Matt dreads whatever is going to come out of her mouth, but he responds anyway. "Yes?"

"Why don't you have mom try on your shoe? Her feet are small. It might fit."

Matt swallows hard, blinking as he stares at the page he's sketching of Salome holding hands with a panda bear. "I don't think your mummy wants to be my princess, poppet," he says softly.

"That's not true," Salome protests vehemently. "I saw her crying before she told me she couldn't be friends with you anymore."

Looking away from Salome before she can see his eyes well up, Matt hurriedly tries to blink away the tears. A warm breeze ruffles his hair and he scrubs a hand over his face, breathing evenly. Bless Salome and her innocence. She'll be the death of him.

Salome continues as if Matt hasn't turned away from her in an effort to block out her words. "She'd probably be real happy if she could be your princess. Then she'd be with you all the time and you could be friends again. Right, Matty?"

With his face turned from her, Matt sees Alex striding toward them now, still on her phone. She's frowning as she walks, gripping her phone tightly. She says something and stops, hand on her hip. It's obvious now that whatever she's talking about with Paul, she isn't enjoying the conversation.

"Look," he says, turning to Salome and putting on a bright smile. "Here comes your mum. Let's keep this talk between us, alright poppet?"

Salome nods, smiling eagerly. "It's our secret, Matty."

Alex starts walking again and when she reaches their table; she's saying her goodbyes. "No, I'm not." She sighs. "I'll talk to you later. Okay. Bye." She tosses her phone into her bag with exasperation but immediately blanks her expression when she looks up and sees Matt watching her with a raised eyebrow.

"All right?" He asks softly, and she nods. "We're having marshmallows while we draw. Would you like one?"

Alex shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. Thank you."

Salome looks up. "They're good, mom. Matty bought the rainbow kind."

"Did he?" Alex asks, glancing at him with a soft smile. "How generous of him."

"That's me," he says. "Magnanimous to a fault."

Brow furrowed, Salome asks, "What does mag-magnano -"

"Magnanimous," Alex corrects her with a laugh.

"Yeah," Salome says. "That. What's it mean?"

"It means charitable," Matt sighs, puffing out his chest just to hear Alex laugh at him. "Noble. Fair-minded. Upright. Worthy. All kinds of wonderful adjectives."

"And humble too," Alex adds with a smirk.

Matt glares at her. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a marshmallow, Kingston? They're yummy."

Alex shakes her head, eyebrows raised. "They're all yours."

"Ah, but see," Matt says, hand inching toward the bag. "I really think you should have a handful."

With a flourish, Matt tosses a handful at Alex, laughing loudly when she yelps in surprise and stumbles back, tiny marshmallows caught in her curls. "Matt!" She shouts, laughing through her anger.

Salome giggles along with him, holding up her hand, and Matt gives her a high-five. It had been necessary, really. Whatever had happened with Paul on the phone, it had left her with that lost look in her eyes that he hates. That look that says all is not right in her world and she's hurting. He can't help her anymore. But he can make her laugh and forget, just for a while.

Still laughing, her cheeks flushed beautifully and her green eyes sparkling, Alex says, "You'll pay for that, Smith." She lurches forward with startling speed, snatching the bag of marshmallows from the table and upending the whole thing over his head. Salome cackles with laughter, tears in her eyes as marshmallows rain down on Matt's head.

When the bag is empty, Alex steps back, hand on her hip. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Reaching up a hand to swipe the marshmallows in his hair away, Matt looks up at her with a smirk. "I'll give you a five second head start. Better start running, Kingston."

Her eyes widen as he starts counting.

"One."

"What? What are you going to do? The bag is empty!"

"Two."

"Mom," Salome says, pointing to the extra bag at Matt's side – the jumbo bag.

"Three."

"Oh bloody hell," she says, caught between laughter and horror.

"Four."

Matt stands and Alex shrieks with laughter, running to Salome on the other side of the table. She pulls up her daughter, letting her cling to her hand and giggle as Alex begins to sprint across the lot, darting between trailers. The crew and extras turn to watch her with befuddled looks until Matt shouts, "Five!" and takes off after her at a run.

Karen and Arthur peek out from the makeup trailer to watch them, chuckling as Alex and Salome make a run for the parking lot. "Get 'em, Matt!" Karen shouts.

Arthur elbows her. "How much do you want to bet Alex beats him to her car?"

"Five quid?"

"You're on."

They stand at the door to the trailer and watch Alex run with Salome's hand in hers and Matt close behind them, the sound of their laughter ringing out over the lot.

XxX

After that day on set with the sketches and the marshmallows, things are easier between Matt and Alex. It's still not how it used to be, but Matt doesn't really want things to go back to the way they were before he loved her. That would be like forgetting, and he doesn't ever want to do that. He never wants to forget one second of that brief, beautiful time when he held her in his arms.

Alex stops spending a majority of her time either with Salome or hiding with Arthur in his trailer. She starts spending more time on set, like she used to. She plays cards with Karen, she laughs when Arthur and Salome give her an impromptu serenade, and she smiles at Matt when he walks onto set in the mornings. Matt is glad for her sudden change of heart because there's a long hiatus coming up and he wants to drink her in before she's gone from his life again for months.

He spends a lot of time studying the way her hair curls and spirals every which way, the way her whole face lights up when she smiles, her tiny waist and those magnificent curves. He memorizes her all over again, remembering how to make her laugh and delighting in the way she grins unabashedly at him when he does so.

Before long, they're almost comfortable around each other again. So close to being comfortable, in fact, that Matt invites Alex to his trailer one evening to go over lines before their very last day of filming.

At the moment, she's slouched in the chair across from his bed; feet propped up on a stack of hardback books and battered script in hand as she silently goes over the scene in front of her. Reclining on his bed, hands behind his head and script resting on his stomach, Matt turns his head and watches her. He loves the way she bites her lip when she reads, the way she twirls a strand of hair around her finger as her eyes skim the page. If she looked at him right now, he would be powerless to hide the love shining from his eyes. His adoration is written in every line of his face but he doesn't try to conceal it from her. He wants her to see it.

"Do you think Steven might let me use the cat ears this time?" She asks without looking up, and Matt blinks, turning his gaze from her.

"You and those cat ears," he says, stretching. "You're obsessed, you are."

"They're cute!" She insists, letting her script fall to her lap and dropping her feet from the book stack. "And River would wear them just to be cheeky!"

"Sure you're not just saying that because you want to wear cat ears?" He asks teasingly and Alex makes a face at him.

Matt laughs, dropping his hands to his stomach, so grateful in that moment that she has any part in his life at all anymore. She could hate him. She could refuse to be in the same room with him ever again, let alone the same television show. And yet here she is, sitting across from him and wrinkling her nose in that adorable way he's so fond of.

When his laughter subsides, he rolls over, swinging his legs to the side of the bed and leaning forward, elbows on his knees. Alex mimics him, smiling slightly as their knees brush. "I'm glad you're here," he says quietly.

"Me too," she whispers back, glancing away shyly before meeting his gaze again.

Matt swallows. "Alex -"

"I should go," she says abruptly, looking away once more.

"Right," he says, clearing his throat. "Of course."

Alex reaches for her script and stands up just as he does, and so close to each other, they nearly knock one another backwards. Matt reaches out quickly to steady Alex, his hands on her hips. Alex clutches at his shirt and falls forward into his chest. They stop wobbling dangerously and usually, this would be the part when they start to giggle at their own clumsiness but this is the closest Matt has been to her in almost a year except when they're acting. They try to keep a careful distance because they're all too aware of what will happen if they don't. Now, she's so near that he can feel how warm she is, smell her wonderful shampoo and the scent that is just her. Alex – cotton and vanilla and flowers.

They freeze in each other's arms and Matt closes his eyes, breathing her in and pressing his face into her hair. Alex sighs into his neck, grip tightening on his shirt. Almost afraid to move for fear of breaking the moment, Matt slips his hand slowly up from her waist, grazing the side of her breast as his fingers slide up to her neck and then his hand is cupping her face.

Alex nuzzles into his palm, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his. "Matt," she whispers, shaking her head.

Matt sees the tears in her eyes and murmurs, "Sshh. It's all right."

"It isn't," she says, voice breaking. "I can't. I can't do this again."

She steps away from him and the loss of her warm body against his is like a blow to the stomach. Matt reaches for her again and Alex backs away. "Alex, please don't…"

"I'm sorry, Matt," she says softly, and the pain and regret in her eyes renders him speechless. "I just can't." Script in hand, Alex flees his trailer and doesn't look back. Matt stands there in the middle of the room, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss.

All that hard work, easing himself gradually back into her life because being a friend was better than having nothing at all, and it's all gone in one moment of weakness.

The next day, they film the final scene of the season and Alex goes back to America without saying goodbye, taking Salome with her.

XxX

When she arrives back in Los Angeles, Alex knows what she has to do. It had been the second time she almost cheated on Paul with Matt, and this time, it would have been so much easier to justify. Matt hadn't been drunk this time, and he's going through a divorce. No one would fault her for letting him kiss her in his trailer that night.

And oh, how she'd wanted to just melt into his arms. If she had let him, he would have picked her up and carried her to his bed and made love to her again, right there in his trailer. It would have been so easy to give in and finally have what she's wanted since she left him standing in a hotel room with a broken hand and tears in his eyes.

But just because Matt isn't with Daisy anymore, it doesn't take away her own fears. She loves Matt more than she ever thought herself capable of loving someone besides her daughter. But he's still so young and Alex can't handle the idea of him getting bored with her and leaving. She may be what he wants right now, but it couldn't last long. It never does.

And she won't be left picking up the pieces once he finally realizes she isn't what he wants after all.

Paul greets her at the airport with a single daisy for her and a bar of chocolate for Salome. Alex thanks him for the flower – resisting the urge to chuck it into a bin just for its name alone – and accepts his enthusiastic kiss with the minimum amount of returned affection.

"How was your flight?" Paul asks, taking her bags from her.

"Uneventful," Alex supplies, reaching for Salome's hand and following him as he begins to weave his way through the crowd.

Salome tugs on Alex's hand and holds out the chocolate bar Paul had given her. "Mom, can I have this later? I'm still eating my marshmallows."

Alex glances at the jumbo bag of marshmallows and refuses to let her eyes water at the sight of it. That day on set had been the happiest time she has had with Matt since they stopped seeing each other. She'd forgotten how silly he could be, and how easily he could make her laugh. She takes the chocolate from Salome and tucks it into her purse, but not before Paul looks back and sees.

"Don't like my gift?" Paul asks Salome with a laugh as they reach the doors and stride into the parking lot.

The L.A. sun is scorching and Alex groans as it shines down on them. She already misses England and its grey skies.

"I like it," Salome insists. "I just want these right now. Matty bought them for me."

Paul glances at Alex, his smile fading slightly. Alex looks away, beginning to dig for her sunglasses in her purse. "He did, huh? Awfully nice of him."

Salome nods happily. "Matty loves me."

After that, Paul is quiet. He leads Alex and Salome to his car, puts their luggage into his trunk and drives them to their house all without more than a few words. Alex wonders if he knows what's coming.

When they pull into the driveway, Salome is out of the car in seconds, squealing happily at the sight of their home and jumping about on the grass, still clutching that bag of marshmallows. Alex just hopes she'll relinquish her hold on it to go to sleep tonight.

Turning in her seat, she opens her mouth to ask Paul to come inside when he says, "I'll get the bags."

She closes her mouth, nodding. While he's busying getting their luggage, she finds her key in her bag and unlocks the front door. After telling Salome that if she insists on staying outside, please go in the backyard where there's shade and a fence, she lets Paul into the house and nervously follows after him.

"You can just set those down there," she says, and Paul drops her bags in the foyer. They stand there in awkward silence for a moment while Alex flounders, wondering how to tell him she doesn't want to see him anymore. She'd mentally rehearsed in the car on the way home, but standing here now, nothing seems good enough.

All she knows is that if Paul was the right guy for her, then she wouldn't have come so close to cheating on him twice now. She's setting herself up for what Matt just went through – trying to get by with someone who doesn't make her happy. Settling will not lead to a good life. She deserves more than that and so does Paul.

"Paul, I -" She stops, hesitant.

"Just say it, Alex," he says, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're going back to him, aren't you? I heard he left his wife."

"What?" She asks, mouth dropping. "I am not going back to him! And where did you hear about that? It's not exactly news over here."

Paul shrugs. "I keep up with British television, since I've been dating you. I didn't want to be oblivious to what happens over there. And you didn't even bother to tell me."

"I didn't know until I was already over there!" Alex insists. "He tried to keep it from me."

"And when you did find out?" Paul asks, brown eyes searching her face. "What then? You didn't tell me about it the numerous times we've talked on the phone since you've been away. Did you sleep with him? Is that why we're having the breakup talk right now?"

"Stop," Alex says, her voice hard. "I won't have you accusing me of such things in my own house for god's sake! And I did not cheat on you with Matt. I've told you before -"

"Yes, you've said it's over but it isn't and we both know it, Alex," Paul snaps. "You're not here. Not really. You're always off somewhere else, in your own head. With him, I guess. Sometimes, you get this look in your eyes…and I know you're thinking of him. Comparing me to him. And I never quite measure up."

"Paul, that isn't -"

Paul shakes his head, holding up a hand. "I knew before I'd ever met Matt that there was some other guy I was losing some silent competition to. I assumed it was your ex-husband until that banquet. The minute he saw you walk into the room, his whole face changed. Like he could barely look at you because it hurt so much." Paul huffs out a humorless laugh and scratches at the back of his head in frustration. "I love you, Alex. I really do. But I don't want to be anyone's second best."

Tears in her eyes, Alex moves across the foyer and takes Paul's hand in hers. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way." She lets out a quiet breath of relief when Paul sighs and pulls her into him, holding her close.

"It's okay," he says into her hair. "Matt's a very lucky man, you know. Make sure he doesn't forget that."

Alex shakes her head. "No, we're not getting back together. That's not why I'm doing this. I just didn't want to make us both miserable. You should be with someone who can make you happy." She pulls back, watching him through watery eyes. "I'm not going to be able to make anyone happy until I've put my life back together. And I think I need to do that on my own."

She's never been more honest with Paul, and it feels good. She wishes she had been honest with him from the beginning and saved them both the trouble. She needs time to get over Matt before she starts dating again. She hadn't been ready when she met Paul, but she'd jumped into a relationship anyway, hurting him in the process. When she stops comparing other men to Matt, then she'll know she's ready.

"I understand, Alex," Paul says, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Thank you," she breathes. She still cares about Paul, and she hadn't meant to hurt him.

"And if you ever get tired of pining for that British moron, then come find me," he says, and she feels him smile against her temple.

She laughs quietly and pulls away from his embrace. "I will."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Paul glances around one last time before turning to her with a smile. "Tell Salome goodbye for me?"

She nods. "Okay."

Warm brown eyes meet hers and for a moment, she remembers the first time she saw him, both of them scrambling after her groceries in that parking lot. "Goodbye, Alex."

"Bye, Paul," she says, and follows him to the door, waving as he walks away and gets into his car.

When he turns off her street and his car disappears, Alex shuts her front door and slumps against it, blowing out an exhausted breath. In the sudden silence of the empty house, she can hear Salome shouting and laughing in the backyard, obviously playing with her neighbor friend now, and for a while, Alex lets herself believe that it's Matt she's playing with out there and that any moment, he's going to come inside with Salome on his back, both of them flushed and grinning from their playtime.

She shuts her eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears and tips her head back, drawing in a shaky breath. Letting it out quietly, Alex pushes off the door and hurriedly wipes at her eyes before striding toward the back door. She should probably tell Salome that Paul isn't coming back.

Chapter End Notes

Have to go study, but loving you all! Chapter title from Jenny Owens Young's Fuck Was I.

Pack your bags and check your doubts

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

When Matt hears from Karen – who looks entirely too delighted on his behalf – that Alex and Paul had broken up the moment Alex returned from London, he begins to make plans. Ridiculous plans that might not work and might just shatter what little is left of his hope. The plans are put on hold while he waits impatiently for his divorce to be finalized. Daisy hadn't wanted the house and Matt isn't sure he wants it either. He might end up selling it and buying a new place that doesn't contain the memories of his short-lived, unhappy marriage.

While Matt waits for the most recent, unpleasant part of his life to be over in the form of official documents in the mail, he spends some much needed time getting his life together. He tries to be Matt again. The man Alex fell in love with. The spontaneous, childish man, who laughed all the time, was curious about absolutely everything and willing to try most things once. The man he used to be before he got married and lost himself.

He spends time with old friends, the ones Daisy didn't force upon him at dinner parties and nightclubs. He throws himself into a little play on the London stage and tries not to show just how very done he is with being single. He wants to be part of a family – and not just any family.

The day he gets official documentation in the mail that finalizes his divorce – the papers that legally and completely severs all ties to Daisy Lowe – Matt does a happy dance right in his living room and goes out for one last celebratory night with his mates. The next morning, he's on a plane headed to Los Angeles, Alex Kingston the only thing occupying his mind.

He's not sure he's doing the right thing. At this point, he doesn't even know what the right thing is anymore. He just knows he's tired of living without the woman he loves and he'll be damned if he doesn't try his hardest to get her back one last time. And oh, does he love her. Just as much if not more than that day she walked away from him.

He spends the entire flight fidgeting nervously and when the flight attendant brings him a drink, he leaves it untouched and ends up ripping up the napkin that came with it into little shreds. The mountainous pile of paper he ends up with does not amuse the flight attendant.

He doesn't try to rehearse what he's going to say because he knows the minute he sees her, every word will fly out of his head and leave him standing there like gaping like a fish out of water. Better to just play it by ear, he decides.

After the plane lands, the next hour passes in a blur. He gets a cab from the airport to Alex's place

– he'd begged Arthur for the address the night before and Arthur had agreed very reluctantly. When the cab pulls up outside a very nice two -story place with vines winding up the outside of the house and flowers over-flowing out of the flowerbeds, Matt smiles even as he feels like he might be sick from sheer nervousness. It looks like exactly the kind of place Alex would live in. He can imagine Salome playing in the yard and Alex on her knees and elbow-deep in dirt in her flowerbeds.

Paying the cab fare, Matt slings his bag over his shoulder and strides up the cobbled walkway to Alex's front door, feeling rather a lot like a doomed man meeting his messy end with open arms.

It's the middle of the afternoon, so Salome should be in school right now. Hopefully Alex is home and Matt won't have to wait on her front porch for her to get back.

For a long moment, he stands there in front of her door, staring at the dark wood and trying to breathe deeply. Oh god. What if she laughs at him for coming all this way? What if she slams the door in his face? What if she hates him? They didn't exactly part on great terms. She'd even said herself that she couldn't do it again. She couldn't be with him. But Matt is the eternal optimist and if there is even the slightest chance that she's changed her mind, then he would fly those thousands of miles a hundred times over.

Closing his eyes tightly, Matt takes a deep breath and reaches out, pressing the doorbell. For a moment, there's nothing. And then he hears a call from inside, "Just a minute!"

Oh god. Her voice.

That beautiful, fantastic voice.

As footsteps approach from behind the door, Matt drops his bag at his feet. He open his eyes and lets out the breath he's been holding.

This is it. Now or never.

The door swings open and Alex stands there in cutoff shorts and an American football jersey, her feet bare and her hair wild about her face. She stares at him with wide eyes and he can clearly see her white-knuckled grip on the doorframe. "M-Matt?" She breathes, blinking as though she might be seeing things. "What are you doing here?"

"I don't know," he says, because it's true. "I don't know why I'm here. I just know my divorce was finalized yesterday and all I could think about was you."

Alex stares at him, eyes misty. "Matt -"

"I know you've said before that you don't love me," he interrupts, nervously licking his lips. "But I don't believe that. Or rather, I don't want to believe it. And if you're just afraid that I don't mean it, then I think traveling thousands of miles and humiliating myself on your doorstep right now will tell you that I love you so bloody much I can't stand it. I'm tired of being without you, Alex. And I don't want to do it anymore." He pauses, watching her closely. "But if you truly don't feel anything for me, then say so and I promise I won't bother you again."

Alex doesn't utter a word, still gripping the doorframe, frozen as she stares at him with tears in her eyes.

Taking this as encouragement, Matt reaches out, gently prying her hand from the door and stepping closer. Cradling her hand in his own with absolute tenderness, he says pleadingly, "Just let me do it properly this time. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

He brings her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips and watching her eyes flutter closed briefly.

"Let me take you to dinner. I want to start over. I want to date you and bring you flowers and take you out in public and let people photograph us snogging outside your house." He smiles slightly when Alex lets out a choked laugh and meets her tear-filled green eyes with his own beseeching ones. "Please, Alex. Don't push me away again."

Alex blinks, staring down at their joined hands with tears sliding down her cheeks. For a terrifying moment, Matt truly doesn't know what she's going to say. But then, finally, wonderfully, she breathes out, "Okay, Matt. Dinner."

At first, Matt thinks he must have heard her incorrectly but then she looks up at him again with a shy, happy grin and he beams at her. "Oh thank god," he murmurs, pulling her into him and she giggles. He cuts off her laughter with his lips, leaning down and kissing her soundly.

Smiling into his mouth, Alex winds her arms around his neck and returns his kiss with surprising fervor. He feels her tears against his cheeks and tastes them on his tongue and the relief in him is

so powerful it leaves him weak in the knees.

She said yes.

Wrapping his arms around her waist as Alex threads her fingers through his hair and nips at his bottom lip, Matt presses closer still and slips his tongue into her mouth. Alex whimpers, fingers tightening in his hair. The pain serves to drive him on and Matt settles his hands at her waist and grips, lifting her with ease.

Alex immediately wraps her legs around his waist without pulling away from his mouth. Leaving his bag on the porch, Matt walks inside tangled together with her, shutting the door behind them.

Stumbling through the foyer, he presses Alex against the nearest wall and finally breaks away from her mouth, panting hard as he moves to press wet, hot kisses across her jaw and down her throat. She sighs against him, breathing heavily as Matt's hands slip beneath her jersey to meet bare skin.

She isn't wearing a bra underneath and when he cups a breast beneath her shirt, Alex throws her head back against the wall with a thud, gasping. She shoves him away almost immediately, raising the shirt above her head and tossing it aside carelessly.

Matt returns his attention to her chest; sucking a pert nipple into his mouth while Alex grips the back of his head tightly and moans. "Matt," she gasps out, lifting her hips into his and making him groan around her breast. "Please."

He ignores her, moving to her other nipple, determined to take his time. It's been so bloody long and all he's done while they've been apart is yearn for her. He isn't about to rush through this.

Frustrated, Alex reaches for the button on his jeans. She undoes it with shaking fingers and yanks his zipper down. She shoves his trousers down to his ankles with her feet and pure determination and Matt kicks off his shoes and trousers quickly. He leaves a bright red hickey on her left breast that he's quite proud of, and he glances up at her to see her pupils wide and her cheeks flushed beautifully. He has to kiss her again. She really leaves him with no other course of action.

When he slips his tongue past her lips, Alex sucks on it with an eagerness that has him shoving her harder into the wall and groaning. She whimpers as he grinds into her, wrenching her mouth from his to pant huskily, "Bedroom."

Done toying with her, Matt navigates Alex's hallway with her clinging to him. "God," she breathes into his ear, tears in her voice. "I've missed you. No one else was ever enough. I tried. I - -" She stops, voice choked.

Matt stops in the middle of the hallway, pressing her into the wall again and looking seriously into her fathomless green eyes. "I missed you too," he whispers and he knows even as he cups her cheek in his palm and tenderly caresses her face with his thumb, that he'll never be able to convey in words just how much. "You're all I ever thought about. It was like an ache that wouldn't go away."

Alex nods as though she understands, reaching out to trail her fingers lovingly over his face. "When you married her, I thought that was it. I thought it was over," she breathes, tears slipping down her cheeks again. "But now you're here, looking at me like that -" She brushes her fingertips over his eyelids lightly. "What did I ever do to deserve you or the way you love me?"

"Oh sweetheart," he says softly. "Everything. Even when I married Daisy, it was still you. Even now, after all this time. It's always going to be just you."

Alex brings his mouth to hers, leaning up to meet him halfway and kissing him thoroughly. "I love you," she whispers when she pulls away, panting into his mouth.

For a moment, Matt can do nothing but stare at her, tears welling in his eyes and heart in his throat. "What did you just say?" He asks, fearful he might be hearing things over the blood rushing in his ears.

Alex beams at him in the sun -drenched hallway of her home and runs her fingers through his hair. "I love you," she says again, clearly and distinctly.

Matt laughs, the sound joyous and echoing in the long corridor. This one, brief moment feels like everything he's ever wanted wrapped up in just a few seconds and her arms. "I love you too," he says, still grinning as he leans forward to press kiss after kiss over her face. He plants his lips against her forehead, over her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, her chin, her lips, and then he starts on her chest again. Alex giggles delightedly against him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing the top of his head.

He can't believe he's here. Kissing her. Loving her. It feels like a surreal, wonderful dream, and if it is, then he hopes he never wakes up.

Taking advantage of his distraction, Alex pulls his t-shirt over his head and flings it away; beginning to press open-mouthed kisses against his neck and shoulders. She wriggles her hips against his and he's suddenly reminded of the fact that she's pressed against him half-naked in her hallway, and that he wants nothing more than to drop her onto the nearest bed and finish undressing her.

They pass a colorful room that is most likely Salome's, considering all the pink. Matt stumbles past it and nearly trips when Alex's teeth suddenly sink into the side of his neck. Gripping her hips tightly as her nipples brush his bare chest again, Matt tries to focus.

Two more doors down and there's a bedroom done in neutral colors with a skylight and a broad window facing the front of the house. He doesn't care if it's Alex's bedroom or not. He walks inside and drops her onto the bed, watching her scramble back towards the headboard while he shoves his boxers down his legs and kicks them away.

Still in her cutoff shorts, Alex reclines on the bed and watches him advance toward her with a smile on her face. She looks breathtaking then, and Matt stops at the foot of the bed just to stare at her. Green eyes alight and curly hair ruffled and falling to her naked shoulders, she looks exactly like what he's spent his whole life waiting for. She's perfect.

"A girl could get old waiting on you," she says, laughing softly.

Matt smiles slowly and climbs onto the bed to join her, starting a trail of gentle kisses at her ankle and working his way up. "You're beautiful," he murmurs, and Alex hums lightly as his tongue darts out to taste her skin. "I get distracted looking at you sometimes."

"Charmer," she says, stretching languidly as he reaches her denim shorts. He undoes the button and pulls them down her legs, and her black knickers quickly follow.

They don't waste a lot of time after that. Matt had wanted to take things slowly but Alex had insisted they had plenty of time for that later and then her hand had been on his cock and not much else had seemed to matter anymore. When he presses into her – the first time in so long – he nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck and blinks back the tears in his eyes. She's everything he's been missing, everything Daisy wasn't – heat and light, wetness and warmth. Home. When he's inside her, he never feels like he should be anywhere else, doing something else. He is where he is supposed to be.

"Missed you," he breathes as Alex clutches at his back. "Missed you so much."

She wraps her legs around her waist and cries out at every inward thrust, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as he makes love to her. Matt leans down and kisses the tear tracks on her face while she reaches up and wipes his tears away with her thumbs, smiling up at him through the emotion so clear in her eyes.

When her tight, wet heat becomes too much – too much sensation, too much emotion, too much perfection all wrapped up in her and her arms – Matt bites his lip and presses his forehead against hers, overcome. "Alex…"

Meeting his every thrust with the lifting of her hips, Alex moans softly and reaches for him, pulling his lips to hers. Matt kisses her hungrily, slipping one hand between their bodies to find her clit, determined to bring her over the edge with him.

Alex cries out into his mouth and begins to tighten around him, fingernails digging into the skin of his back. She wrenches her mouth from his with a gasp as her climax courses through her, leaving her a shuddering mess beneath him. "Matt," she murmurs in her mindless pleasure. "Love you."

Those words from her lips are enough. With a muffled shout against the skin of her chest, Matt spills into her with colored lights dancing behind his eyes and her love ringing in his ears.

When he comes back to himself, breathless and exhausted but endlessly happy, his head is resting on her chest and Alex is running her fingers through his hair tenderly. For a long while, they say nothing, exchanging soft kisses and sweet caresses without needing to speak.

Entangled in sheets and her, Matt is drifting toward a very pleasant, sex-infused nap when Alex suddenly says, "I'm sorry I pushed you away."

Matt frowns, tilting his head up drowsily to look at her. She isn't looking at him, her fingers tracing random letters on the skin of his back but her eyes shut tightly.

"I was just so scared. It wasn't supposed to mean anything and then when it did, when I fell in love with you -"

Matt stops her words by leaning up and pressing a firm, heated kiss to her lips. "I know," he says when he pulls away. "It's all right. I shouldn't have just blurted it out. And I shouldn't have married someone I didn't love just because I wanted to get over you."

"I made you -"

"You didn't," he says firmly. "No one made me marry Daisy but myself. And I'm sorry I did because it only hurt everyone I care about." Slipping his arms around her and pulling her body into his, Matt speaks into her hair. "I'm just glad I didn't permanently bugger things up, and we're here now."

"Hmm." Alex hums quietly, snuggling into him and pressing her face into his collarbone. "Here always, if you don't mind."

In her sunlit bedroom, with Alex dozing lightly against his chest, Matt stares up at the ceiling and grins.

Chapter End Notes

Gah, I completely forgot about updating today guys! I've been working on a paper most of the day and it just slipped my mind. Sorry! But see? Everything is totally fine. Haha I love my angst, but it has to turn out okay in the end. Because I'm a sap. I'll post the epilogue tomorrow, m'kay? Chapter title from the Eels song Beginner's Luck. Loving you all!

Epilogue: You've really got a hold on me

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

It's weird at first, letting Matt court her. He stays in Los Angeles for nearly a month, paying too much money for a room at a hotel five minutes from her house. She doesn't know why he doesn't just stay with her. Even with Salome there, he could still sleep on the sofa. He spends most of his time with her anyway. But Matt had insisted on a room. Apparently he couldn't court her properly if he slept on her couch.

He comes over while Salome is in school, bringing Alex a bouquet of different flowers every time. They go out together, doing everyday things like going to the grocery store, walking through the open air markets, having lunch. They sightsee a bit because Matt is drawn to all the terrible, touristy locations. And then they come back to Alex's house. She leads him down the hall by the hand and as soon as the bedroom door is shut behind them, his lips are on hers. Sometimes they make it to the bed, but other times, Matt presses her into the floor and makes love to her beneath the skylight in her bedroom.

Entangled together afterwards, they exchange soft kisses and talk quietly until it's time for Salome to return from school. Her daughter had been ecstatic to see Matt again, her delighted grin a thing of beauty when she came home that first day to find Matt sitting on the counter and attempting to juggle with plastic cups. It had been a little difficult with Alex standing between his legs, kissing his neck and distracting him and when Salome walked in and squealed upon seeing him, every cup had tumbled to the floor.

The only thing she'd said when Alex and Matt had told her together that they're seeing other had been to look at Matt with a wide grin and say, "Told you she'd want your glass shoe, Matty."

After nearly a month, Alex and Salome drive Matt to the airport and say goodbye. Real life can no longer be put on hold, and he has responsibilities in London that can't be ignored anymore. Salome clings to his neck the whole way to the gate and Alex has to pry her away when they can accompany Matt no further.

He hugs them both, tips Salome on the chin with a smile and tells her to be a good girl and he'll see her soon. And then he turns to Alex, wraps her in his arms, and tells her the same thing. Alex laughs into his shoulder and Matt pulls away, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her goodbye in an airport filled with people. It's a fierce kiss full of promises of things to come, and when he pulls back, Alex has to wipe at the tears forming in her eyes.

"I love you," he says, smiling.

Alex leans up and kisses his chin. "I love you too, ridiculous man. Call me when you land."

Matt winks at her and ruffles Salome's hair before hitching his bag over his shoulder and walking away from them. Arm around her daughter, Alex takes comfort in the fact that this time, she knows he'll come back.

In two weeks, when Salome is with her father, Alex gets on a plane and flies to London to spend the weekend with Matt. They don't try to hide what they're doing but they don't flaunt it either. Someone spots them out to dinner together and the paparazzi photographs them walking hand-in-hand to Matt's place.

Knowing they're being followed, Alex turns to Matt just outside his door, grip tight on his hand and eyebrow raised. "Well," she says. "I think we've been spotted."

"I noticed," Matt says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. "What should we do? Your move, Kingston."

"Hmm," Alex says, tapping her finger against her chin. "I think I'd quite like to kiss you."

Matt grins. "What's stopping you?"

"Nothing," Alex says, her smile matching his as she pulls his head down to hers. "Absolutely nothing."

By morning, it's all over the papers. Alex wakes up to Matt reading to her from the Daily Mail about what sort of salacious activities they'd been up to the night before. There are even pictures of them snogging on Matt's front porch. From there, speculation and rumors abound, none of which are true but some of which come uncomfortably close.

After the press cottons on to their relationship, Matt and Alex spend the majority of their remaining time together in his bed, leaving the warmth of the sheets and each other only when necessary.

It's a good weekend.

Their time apart before the next season of Doctor Who begins – the last season for both of them – is spent with phone calls, texting, and flying to see one another every other weekend. It's difficult but they make it work. There really isn't another option.

When they're finally on set together, everyone is so used to seeing them together by this point that no one bats an eye. Karen and Arthur aren't on set with them anymore and it's quite strange being without them. Alex is just glad she has Matt, who holds her close and lets her burrow into his coat when they film somewhere cold, and who kisses her when she fumbles her lines.

The times when they're not filming, they meet up with Karen and Arthur if they aren't busy. This weekend, they go to a pub in the wee hours of the morning and it's relatively deserted. It's a little known place that plays classics from a jukebox. Sawdust litters the floor, the lights are dim and a thin layer of dust coats everything.

In a back booth nursing a mug of ale, Alex snuggles into Matt's side with his arm around her shoulders. Across from them, Karen and Arthur are doing their usual bickering and it's like nothing at all has changed.

"You can't list your own band among your favorites, you numpty," Karen says, scowling at Arthur. "How conceited can you be?"

"What?" Arthur throws up his hands. "We're good!"

Karen laughs at him. "It doesn't matter! You can't do it. It's an unwritten rule."

"Says who?"

"Says everyone!"

"Who's everyone?" Arthur looks exasperated, looking to Matt and Alex for support but Matt only throws a peanut shell at them and laughs when it lands in Karen's drink.

Karen shouts her protest and tries to fish it out, looking up at Matt to stick out her tongue. "You are such a child!"

"Am not!" He says. "I'm a big boy now. Ask Alex."

Alex slides her hand up his thigh under the table and says, "Very big."

Karen makes a horrified face and goes back to fishing the peanut shell out of her drink. "I still can't believe no one told me until Matt was getting a bloody divorce," she grumbles. "Like I can't keep a secret! There I was trying to fix Alex up with all these men and she just wanted stupid face over there."

"To be fair," Arthur says, "We sort of thought you'd figure it out eventually."

"You're quite dense, Kaz," Matt says with a laugh, turning his head to press a soft kiss to Alex's temple.

"Oi!"

The contentment that washes over Alex then is unparalleled. Her friends are around her, Matt's lips are against her hair and his scent and his arms are all wrapped around her. Her daughter is going to be with her next week. Everything is almost perfect. It will be even better when Salome gets here and Matt finally does something with that ring box she'd found in his coat pocket last week.

Alex smiles just thinking about it, glancing down at her hand on his thigh. A ring will look nice there, she thinks.

"Stop being mean to my mother, boys," she says, coming back to herself and winking at Karen, who gives her a grateful look. "She can't help it she didn't catch us playing footsie under a table, like another certain someone."

"Exactly!" Karen says, glaring at Arthur.

"Hey!" Arthur protests. "I had suspicions long before then! Groping each other under the table just confirmed it. I'm sensitive to these things."

"I was suspicious too! I just didn't have evidence like you did!" Karen protests, and as the two begin to bicker again, the song on the jukebox changes.

I don't like you but I love you, seems that I'm always thinking of you…

Matt glances at Alex and she smiles back at him.

"Dance with me?" He asks, voice a soft murmur.

Alex nods and he tugs her from the booth. Their friends fall silent as Matt pulls her onto the non-existent dance floor and sways with her between tables and chairs on the sawdust floor. Alex rests her head on his chest and Matt hums into her ear, one hand holding hers and the other splayed across her lower back.

"Happy, Kingston?" He asks, like he always does in quiet moments like these.

She smiles into his shirt, thinking of rings and I love you's, kisses and forever. "With you? Always."

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all for your comments and kudos, and for sticking with me through the boatload of angst:) Chapter title from She & Him's You Really Got A Hold On Me.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	7. Chapter 7

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/1020328.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2013-10-27 Completed: 2013-11-22 Chapters: 6/6 Words:

32055

 **like the magic of wild melodies**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

His home is a modern country estate, opulent and full of life. The civilized magic there is easy to ignore if he wishes but that isn't the case here, not with this woman who is the wildness of magic incarnate. He cannot ignore the very powerful ancient magic radiating from her, and he has never felt quite so small.

Notes

For Charina, who prompted me with 'magic au' and this is what my mind came up with. Takes place during the Regency era. Story title from The Poet's Love Song by Sarojini Naidu. Chapter title from Read My Mind by the Killers.

with magic soaking my spine

His carriage rattles down quite possibly the only quiet lane in the whole of London, a strictly residential street with a dead end. No one drives down here unless they belong here, and unfortunately for Matt, he will belong here for as long as it takes. He stares at the passing houses through his carriage window, small and all grouped together without a space between them, so unlike the sprawling family estate he has been forced to temporarily leave behind for reasons too embarrassing to contemplate.

He just wants to get this over with as quickly as possible. Being the only one in his family incapable of performing magic is mortifying. His father and mother are quite powerful, his sister is something of a prodigy, and has been since her first act of magic at the age of eleven months. His parents kept waiting for him to show an aptitude for it and even as the years passed without a hint of magic, they didn't give up hope. The shame of a magical dud – a nihil, as the scornful call them

– in such a prominent family would have undone them. Matt has gone most of his life trying to hide it from everyone around him, even his friends. It's easier to do where he lives; out in the countryside of Wiltshire, but here in London, the magical hub of the country, he feels his inadequacy strongly.

The carriage slows to a stop at the very end of the lane, where a two-storey house sits all by its lonesome, facing the rest of the street. It's bigger than the other houses and though Matt has never heard of homes containing a magical essence, he thinks that if they did, this house would be one of them. Ivy covers the outside in vibrant green, and it's only in little patches that he can see the brick peeking through. Trees surround the whole place, towering high above and casting the house in eternal shade. It looks ancient and mysterious, almost sentient. Mesmerized by the wild magic emanating from the place like an odor, Matt climbs from the carriage and allows his footman to see to his bags, standing in the middle of the lawn and staring.

Henderson sends Matt's two traveling trunks floating toward the house with a muttered sursum and motus. Matt nods his thanks, following his belongings up the overgrown path and the creaky porch steps, pausing to knock. He bounces anxiously on the balls of his feet until the front door opens of its own accord, allowing him entry. He steps inside and stops in the foyer where his trunks slowly drift back to the ground and rest at his feet.

He glances around and calls out, "Hello?"

Hearing no reply but instead the murmur of an incantation further into the house, Matt frowns and follows the sound, letting it lead him through dark, winding halls until he finds himself standing at a door in the back of the house, open to let in the air and sunshine. Hearing the voice closer now, not muttering incantations at all but singing quietly, Matt peers around the door and finds a woman in a purple gown kneeling in the dirt, murmuring happily to a patch of alliums.

Assuming this must be his tutor, Alexandra Kingston, he opens his mouth to call for her tentatively when out of nowhere a ball of black fur launches itself at his legs. Startled, he releases an undignified yelp and jumps back, heart racing.

His tutor whirls, her eyes wide and unruly blonde curls bouncing around her face – a lovely face, he notices right away even through his panic. The cat hisses at him and slinks away to her side, rubbing itself against the skirts of her gown. "Moffat," she scolds softly as Matt attempts to compose himself. "That was horrid of you. Bad kitty."

She glances up at him and now that he isn't attempting to escape a clearly murderous cat, he notices things that escaped him before, like the pretty pink flush on the round apples of her cheeks, the wide, strong nose and regal cheekbones, but it's her eyes that leave him breathless. She has kind eyes – eyes the color of the Mediterranean – but there is a certain something lurking in them, a feral light that sends shivers up his spine.

She smiles at him, wiping dirty hands on the skirts of her dress without thought as she approaches. "I'm so sorry about him – he's not terribly fond of anyone but me, for some reason. You must be Matthew."

"It's quite alright, Ms. Kingston. I'll learn to stay out of his way from now on." He offers a friendly smile. He may not want to be here, but that's hardly her fault. It's only his, for being such a failure in a family that values magic above all else. "And call me Matt, please."

"In that case, I must ask that you never call me Ms. Kingston again." She winks at him and he nods, feeling an inexplicable flush creep up the back of his neck. "I'm terribly sorry I didn't hear you knock, I've spent the afternoon singing to my flowers."

"Singing to your flowers?"

She nods, glancing fondly back at the alliums. "They respond well to my voice. Aren't they lovely?"

He nods slowly, watching her warily. As beautiful as she is, she seems a bit mad, but he supposes all the brilliant ones usually are. And she is supposed to be the best – the most powerful sorceress in the country. Some say she's more powerful than even the most powerful sorcerer – Matt's future father-in-law, as it happens. The reason he's really here to begin with.

The dirt brushed from her small hands, Alexandra Kingston sighs a small sigh of satisfaction and

says, "Shall I show you to your room, then?"

He nods wordlessly and watches her walk past him, leaving the strange scent of soil and the damp, earthy smell of magic in her wake. Blinking after her, Matt hurries to catch up and only jumps back once when Moffat leaps in front of him with another hiss, eager to catch up to Alexandra. She scoops him up when he meows, cradling the black ball of fur to her chest as Matt trails warily behind her. She gestures as she goes, pointing out the kitchen, the dining room and the parlour, and then stops in the foyer where his trunks still rest, her eyebrow raised.

"Two trunks? My, aren't we excessive."

In her arms, Moffat seems to eye him accusatorily.

He flushes. "One is full of magic books."

"Oh, you needn't have bothered with those." Without another word, she waves a hand at the trunk of books and sends it skidding across the foyer, where a door opens. The trunk slides inside and the door shuts neatly behind it. "There, that's better."

He gapes at her. "You just – without an incantation?"

The corner of her mouth curls and he wonders at the secret hidden in that charming dimple. "Yes, and I learned to do it without the help of books. You will too, I promise."

Matt shakes his head, snapping his mouth shut quickly. He realizes now why the house reeks of feral magic. His home is a modern country estate, opulent and full of life. The civilized magic there is easy to ignore if he wishes but that isn't the case here, not with the house and not with this woman who is the wildness of magic incarnate. He cannot ignore the very powerful ancient magic radiating from her, and he has never felt quite so small.

Oblivious to the sudden trembling of his insides, she only waves her hand at his remaining trunk and with a flick of her wrist, sends it out of the foyer and slowly up the stairs. "Go on then, follow your trunk. It'll show you to your room. If it isn't to your liking, well, I suppose you'll get used to it. I'll expect you at seven for dinner." She winks again and turns on her heel, and Moffat manages a final glare over her shoulder before they both disappear into the parlour.

He gapes after her for a moment before realizing his trunk has disappeared around a corner, and

he trips his way up the stairs to follow it to his room before it goes without him and he has to search on his own. His room is on the left, almost all the way at the end of the second floor hallway, and he trails after his trunk, shutting the door behind him. It's small but not cramped, with plenty of room for his traveling trunk, the large bed in the middle of the room a bureau along one wall and a writing desk positioned by the window. His trunk settles itself at the foot of his bed and Matt gives it a little pat as he moves to the window, peering through the curtains and feeling delighted to find that he has a view of the street. It may be a quiet street but it's certainly better than a view of those alliums in the back garden.

Dinner is still two hours away and Matt spends his time until then unpacking and putting away his things before curling up on his unfamiliar bed and closing his eyes, hoping a nap will relieve him of the knot of anxiety in his stomach. Unfortunately, his rest is fitful and it seems he wakes only moments after he closed his eyes. Sitting up quickly, he runs his hand through his floppy brown hair and reaches blindly for the pocket watch on his bedside table. Flipping it open and peering with bleary eyes at the time, he groans and scrambles out of bed. Half seven.

His first day here and he's already insulted his tutor by not appearing for dinner on time. Cursing under his breath, Matt strips out of his wrinkled jacket and slips on a new one, adjusting the collar as he hurries from his room and down the hall, keeping a wary eye out for Moffat even as he very nearly leaps down the stairs to the dining room. Alexandra sits at the end of the table lit with candles, sipping a glass of wine with an amused smile as she watches him gaze guiltily back at her.

"Sit," she orders softly. "I kept your food hot with a warming spell."

Quickly moving to the chair she indicates across from hers, Matt flushes brightly and says, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to miss dinner. I fell asleep -"

"It's quite alright, Matt," she laughs softly. "I'm not insulted. All I ask is that you're never late to your lessons and we'll get along amiably enough." She watches him cut his meat and sample his potatoes, letting him enjoy is meal in silence while she sips at her wine, but he can feel her eyes on him as she studies him. When he finally glances up, she asks, "Why are you here?"

He frowns, reaching for his wine. "To learn magic."

She shakes her head. "No, you're here to learn how to use your magic."

"I don't have any magic," he confesses quietly.

Sliding her fingertips around the rim of her wine glass, Alex watches him closely. "Your family is a very powerful one, Matt. Magic is in your blood. You just don't know how to access it."

"And why not? My sister has been practicing magic before she could walk but I can't do even the simplest of spells." He runs a hand through his hair and sighs when his fringe flops back into his eyes. "I'm only here to learn what little I can – you're my only hope or my betrothal to the Lady Daisy Lowe will be forfeit."

She raises an eyebrow. "Your fiancée won't accept you if you can't perform magic?"

"My fiancée doesn't want to accept me at all, nor do I want her but that is of little consequence. This is a business deal between our families." He frowns at the pristine tablecloth. "It would be a beneficial union for both sides, but the Lowes would be a laughing stock if they married their daughter off to a man incapable of magic. The condition of our engagement was that I learn at least the basics."

Alexandra nods but looks at him skeptically. "If your only motivation for learning how to use your magic is to complete a business deal, I'm afraid we won't get very far. Magic is very temperamental. You have to want it, Matt."

"If I don't do this, it will be yet another disappointment to my family," he says, lifting his eyes to hers and meeting her unwavering gaze. "I want magic more than you realize."

She smiles, those strange eyes sad as she watches him. "Very well. Your first lesson is after dinner."

As much as he dreads showing her exactly how inadequate he is, Matt is working on a deadline – two months until his betrothal is announced– and the sooner he gets started, the better. He eats his dinner quickly under Alexandra's watchful eye and the moment he gulps the last of his wine, she waves a hand and his dishes disappear from the table. He almost smiles, still all at once awed and terrified of the wordless magic.

Noticing his expression, Alex summons an apple from the bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and lands it directly in front of him. "You'll want to use the words first since you're just beginning, but if I do my job correctly, you'll be performing wordless magic as easily as breathing by the time you leave."

"I don't know anyone who can perform wordless magic," he says, eyeing the apple in front of him

skeptically. "Not even Bronner Lowe."

"Bronner Lowe isn't half as powerful as he likes to think he is," she sniffs, and he almost snorts. "Now, levitate that apple."

"With all due respect, if I could do that, I wouldn't be here," he snaps.

Alexandra offers him a withering look. "Humor an old woman, hm?"

Dropping his gaze to the apple, he mutters, "Sursum."

As he'd known, nothing happens.

"See?"

"Try again."

He sighs and mutters the spell again.

Nothing.

"Again."

"It's not going to work."

"Are you the tutor or am I?" She asks dryly. "Do it again."

He says the spell again, biting it out through clenched teeth this time.

The apple does not levitate, but it does tremble a bit, wobbling on the table.

Matt stares at it in shock.

"Interesting," Alexandra murmurs, smiling enigmatically as she lifts green eyes to meet his. "I think we've found your trigger, darling."

Too stunned to be flummoxed by the pet name, he only stares at her, hope for his magical abilities rising in his chest for the first time in a very long while. "It moved."

She laughs, low and rich in her throat, and the sound steals over him like a pleasant shiver. "Yes, it did."

"I just don't understand what this has to do with performing magic."

Alexandra sighs patiently from her perch on a low hanging tree branch, her bare feet peeking out from beneath the hem of her skirts and Moffat in her lap, purring as she scratches his ears. "You're not trying to perform magic right now – you're just trying to access it."

"And I'm going to do that by sitting in the middle of your garden and meditating?"

"You might," she replies lightly, swinging her legs. "If you closed your mouth and opened your mind for more than five minutes."

Matt grumbles to himself and shuts his eyes again. "That still doesn't explain why you're sitting in a tree."

"Magic like yours is unpredictable when it's new," she explains. "I don't want to be in the line of fire. Besides, I like trees."

Of course she does.

"Are you even trying to meditate?"

He bites his lip, squinting his eyes open to see her watching him doubtfully. "It feels a bit silly," he admits.

With a much less patient sigh, Alexandra drops Moffat onto the branch next to her and slips from her perch, her skirts billowing around her and allowing him a glimpse of pale, shapely legs before her feet land gracefully on the ground and her skirts pool at her ankles once more. She pads softly through the grass to where he sits on the ground and the moment she's in front of him, she kneels and they're eye to eye. This close, her eyes are positively mesmerizing and Matt struggles to listen to what she's saying. "I've concluded that your magic trigger is your emotions," she says softly.

"A strong emotion combined with an incantation generates your powers. Last night you were only mildly annoyed with me and moved an apple. If you were truly furious, I imagine the result would be spectacular."

Having become lost in the soft cadence of her speech, Matt blinks hard and drops his eyes to her small hands laced together in the folds of her dress. "Then shouldn't you be trying to make me angry? Provoke me into using my magic?"

"I don't want you to associate magic with anger. That way leads to disaster, darling." She takes his hands in hers, warm, capable fingers squeezing his own. "Instead, I want you to recall what it felt like to do magic – that tingle under your skin, that spark that burned at the very deepest part of you. You felt it, didn't you?"

He nods, though at the moment he's experiencing a very different sort of tingling.

"Find it. Harness it." Alexandra smiles, releases his hands, and conjures an apple out of thin air. "And then levitate the apple."

She places it in front of him, rises to her feet and brushes gentle fingers across his shoulder as she moves away from him and back to her perch. Struggling to focus on anything but the dip of her back as she climbs back onto the tree branch, Matt wrenches his gaze away and shuts his eyes. It takes a while but eventually the world around him quiets. He stops hearing even the wind in the trees, stops picturing otherworldly eyes, or worrying about the cat attacking him while he has his eyes shut.

Slowly, he starts drifting and he allows it to happen, falling further and further into himself and that's when he finds it. There, deep inside the sanctuary of his subconscious, is the brightly burning flame of his magic, wild and unpredictable, waiting to be harnessed and used – as it has

been waiting all his life. Hello, he thinks. I'm sorry I doubted you.

Unsure of what to do now that he's found it, Matt reaches almost instinctively for his magic with his mind and feels it curl welcomingly around him like a contented cat. He flexes his fingers and when they tingle, the hair on his arms and the back of his neck rises in accordance. Keeping a tight leash on the power sizzling beneath his skin, Matt opens his eyes, startled to find that the sun is higher in the sky than it had been when he closed his eyes. It's been hours, it seems. He barely noticed.

Dropping his gaze to the apple sitting in front of him, Matt murmurs softly, "Sursum." Slowly, the apple rises from the ground, moving with shaky, uncoordinated jolts until it finally hovers right in front of his face, directly at eye level. Without thinking, he laughs in delight and shouts, "Kingston! I did it!"

He takes his eyes off the apple and it drops back to the ground but he pays it no mind, his gaze on the tree branch where Alexandra lounges next to Moffat, watching him with a beaming grin. "Very good, darling. Now do it again."

By the time she's satisfied with his efforts, Moffat has long since abandoned them to chase a mouse and Matt is exhausted. His mind actually aches but he'd levitated the apple every time and sometimes he even managed to keep it in the air for long periods of time. He still can't keep the spell in place without looking directly at the apple but as first days go, he's pretty pleased with his work. A few days ago, he would have given anything to be able levitate something as small as an apple. Sitting on the ground, munching on the apple he's spent the better part of four hours levitating off the ground, Matt watches his tutor walk toward him, her skirts trailing over the ground, and squints. "There are two of you."

She laughs softly, and somehow the delightful sound only intensifies the ache in his head. "Just one of me, darling. I don't believe you could handle two."

"I don't believe I could handle one," he replies, and then slaps a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. I don't know why I -"

"You're drunk, poor thing," Alexandra pries the apple from his grip and tosses it away. Midair, it disappears as if it had never been.

Scandalized, Matt gapes up at her – two of her, which means a frightful amount of hair, double the enchanting eyes and god, two sets of rather marvelous breasts. He's beginning to like the number two. He shakes his head violently to dislodge the very ungentlemanly thoughts. "M'not drunk."

"Not on alcohol, no." Alexandra takes his hands in hers and with a grunt and a great heave, manages to get him to his feet. He sways for a moment, blinking hard as the world around him spins, and then he stumbles into her. She barely staggers under his weight, wrapping her arm around his waist and helping him keep his balance as they start slowly toward the house. "You're drunk on magic. Too much of it too soon can make a person rather ill. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard today."

Sensing the guilt in her voice and only wanting to make it better, Matt pets her hair as she guides him into the house. "S'alright," he breathes, and feels her shudder. "I forgive you."

"Well then, I'll certainly sleep very sound tonight." She sounds amused and he huffs, leaning his head on her shoulder.

"Kingston, I feel sick."

"I know, darling. I'm sorry." She tightens her hold on him, directing him through the house toward the stairs. "Let's get you up to bed, alright?"

He hums his agreement. "I like calling you Kingston. Alexandra doesn't fit."

"Well," she begins; sounding distracted as she tugs him up the stairs and catches him when he stumbles. "You could always call me Alex."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "Kingston suits you."

She snorts. "Have it your way then, dear."

As they reach the top of the stairs, Matt trips over the last one and Alex steadies him with warm, capable hands, a weary sigh on her lips. His knees feel like they might give out at any second so he grips her tightly as they move down the hall, and her hair keeps brushing his cheek. He turns his head, inhaling the unmistakable scent of her. "You smell nice," he sighs. "Like flowers and magic."

She laughs again, pushing open the door to his room and very nearly dragging him to his bed. "Oh, you are going to be such fun in the morning." Pushing him gently onto the mattress, her

hands leave him as his head hits the pillow and he makes a small noise of discomfort at the loss. She doesn't notice, tugging a blanket under his chin and smoothing his hair from his forehead like he's a child under her care. "Goodnight, darling."

When he wakes in the morning with a monstrous headache and a tetchy stomach, as if he'd spent the night drinking rather than trying to levitate an apple, he lies in bed for a moment and tries to remember how he'd gotten into his room. Alexandra had helped him, he thinks fuzzily. Kingston.

He smiles sleepily. He likes calling her that – it suits her.

Instantly, he remembers that he'd told her as much and claps a hand to his mouth, feeling a wave of mortification roll over him. "Oh my god," he mutters through his fingers, and as more memories surface of the other ridiculous things he's said to his tutor – his very powerful tutor who could probably castrate him with a wiggle of one finger – he groans and rolls over, burying his head beneath his pillow.

Flowers and magic?

Deciding the only sensible course of action is to never leave his bed again – not a bad idea considering it means he'll never have to face Alex, never have to learn magic, and therefore never have to marry Daisy – Matt curls up beneath his blankets and proceeds to ignore the world for all of ten more minutes before his stomach grumbles loudly and he realizes the flaw in his master plan.

With a whimper, he very carefully extricates himself from his blankets and out of his bed, dressing with deliberate slowness in trousers, boots, and an undershirt with a waistcoat. He can't even contemplate slipping into his jacket and only hopes Alex will forgive the informality just this once as he slips from his room and down the stairs, all the while running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to tame it.

As soon as he reaches the dining room, he remembers instantly that he needn't fret about his hair around her – anything looks tame compared to the voluminous mass of curls that is Alexandra Kingston's hair. It frames her face rather beautifully this morning and he takes a brief moment before she notices his presence to admire it and the way her blue gown seems to only enhance those eyes and curves and everything else about her. Embarrassed by the path his thoughts are taking, Matt shakes his head quickly and clears his throat, stepping into the room.

She glances up instantly from her tea and breakfast, smiling broadly the moment she sees him, and he notices instantly that Moffat is curled up on her lap. "Good morning, sunshine."

"Morning, Alexandra," he nods to her as he takes his seat, praying to every magical entity he knows that she won't mention anything he said last night.

"Oh, don't bother, darling," she smirks into her tea. "Your secret is out now." She bats her lashes. "Kingston suits me."

He flushes up to his ears and snatches his toast from the plate in front of him, ignoring her shameless grin as he spreads marmalade over his breakfast. "Alexandra is just very proper," he mutters, mortified.

"Oh, and I'm not proper enough for such a proper name, is that it?"

Eyes wide, he raises his head quickly to apologize when he finds her silently laughing at him from across the table, eyes twinkling merrily. "You mistake my meaning," he says, and ducks his head to smile at his plate. "But it's certainly very improper to taunt a man with words he said in a magical stupor."

Alex laughs, obviously delighted. "Then I suppose you're right – I'm not a proper lady at all." She sips at her tea in silence for a moment before muttering under her breath, "But I still smell like flowers and magic so I suppose I can't complain."

Moffat's ear twitches, and Matt gets the distinct feeling he's being laughed at. Pointedly ignoring the cat, he gives Alex a half-hearted glare but she looks so pleased with herself as she chews happily across from him that he can't really muster up the effort to work up a good glower. He pouts instead and finds it much more effective.

"Oh alright, I'm through mocking you. Witch's honor." She winks at him and he finds himself grinning back at her, wondering when he started actually enjoying his time here rather than just waiting for the moment he could leave. They finish their breakfast in relative peace after that, though every time Matt feels her smirk in his direction, he sinks into his chair and blushes like a school boy, remembering leaning on her as she guided him to his bedroom, and that brief moment he sniffed her hair. He swallows the last of his toast and feels oddly disappointed that he can't really remember how her arms had felt around him.

Pushing away the thought before it makes him blush yet again in her presence, he straightens his

waistcoat and sits up straighter in his chair, watching Alex – who had long finished her own breakfast – idly levitate all the fruit in the bowl on the table into the air and make all the apples perform a little dance around the oranges. "What's on the agenda for the day? Teaching the fruit to waltz?"

"Not quite but you're welcome to give it a try in your free time." She waves a hand and the fruit drops gently back into the bowl one by one. "Since you accomplished levitation yesterday, I've decided we'll move on to summoning." She gestures to the fruit bowl and leans back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. "Get the mountain to come to you, darling."

Leaning forward, elbows on the table and hands clasped in front of him, Matt directs all of his focus on the fruit bowl and says, "Venio."

Nothing.

Alex watches him patiently. "Did you even try to focus your magic or are you just saying the right word and hoping for the best?"

Instantly guilty, Matt tries to look offended and has a feeling she can see right through him. Ignoring her raised eyebrow, he shuts his eyes for a moment and furrows his brow, searching for the power source deep inside, that well of magic always lurking just out of reach. He finds it much faster than he had yesterday and the moment he wraps his mind around it, he opens his eyes and says again, "Venio."

Instantly, every piece of fruit in the bowl lurches up in the air and as if by some unseen hand, is lobbed directly toward him at alarming speed. Panicked, he yelps and ducks under the table to avoid flying fruit smacking him in the head, and over the sound of apples and oranges hitting the floor, he hears Moffat's discontented yowl as he leaps from Alex's arms and scurries from the room, and the charming peal of Alex's laughter over the din.

Slowly inching out from beneath the table once the last orange has fallen, Matt peeks over the edge of his seat and glares at her but she's too busy giggling into her hands to pay him any mind. Her face is red, her curls bounce around her face as her shoulders shake, and she looks like she can't even breathe. Though it's all at his expense, she makes such a lovely picture that he almost doesn't mind.

Almost.

"Why are you laughing? I could have died, Kingston!" He frowns when this only makes her laugh harder. "Is that really a letter you wanted to send my parents? Their son died a horrible death by injury to the head with a flying orange?"

"Well I doubt an orange would have killed you, darling. Much too soft." Alex giggles again, covering her face with her hands. "If anything, it would have been an apple."

Not amused, he climbs back into his seat with what little dignity remains to him, smoothes his hair back and glowers. "You are a horrible, horrible woman."

"Don't pout – it's unbecoming on a man your age. You may look twelve but you most certainly are not, Mr. Smith." Finally managing to get her laughter under control, Alex wipes at her watery eyes with a handkerchief she conjures out of thin air, tucking it into the bosom of her dress when she finishes while Matt struggles not to watch. The slightest motion of her hand picks up all the fruit from the floor and neatly places it all back into the bowl on the table. "Try again, please."

He shakes his head quickly. "Are you mad? Your fruit viciously attacked me."

"Blimey, what dramatics. You made the fruit attack you – the fruit does not have some sort of hidden agenda, darling. It isn't out to get you." She rolls her eyes – appallingly unladylike on anyone else but her, he'd wager – and asks, "Did you focus on the apple or were you just looking at the bowl when you said the spell?"

After a stubborn moment of silence, he mumbles, "The bowl."

"As I suspected." She looks entirely too smug as she folds her hands primly in front of her on the table and eyes him expectantly. "So try again. And focus this time. I really would hate to write a letter to your parents detailing their son's death by fruit. I, myself, might die of laughter before I finished it and then no one would ever know what became of us."

He's starting to get used to her strange brand of humor so he barely spares her a withering glance before directing his gaze back to the bowl. Zeroing in on one apple in particular, he narrows his eyes and says softly, "Venio." He barely has time to reach out a hand before the soft smack of an apple slapping against the flesh of his palm echoes in the room. Laughing in delight, Matt curls his fingers around his prize and instantly looks to Alex for her approval. She watches him fondly but without surprise, as if she'd know he'd get it this time. "Now what?"

Spreading her hands in front of her, she smirks. "Make it dance."

Huffing out a soft laugh, he balances the apple in his open palm and says, "Motus."

The apple wobbles but does not twirl around in the air the way Alex's had.

"Your magic is reliant on your emotions – you have to want it, darling."

"I do want it," he insists, frowning at her.

Alex studies him for a long moment. "Why do you want it?"

He sighs. "So you'll stop asking me these, frankly, ridiculous questions."

"Not good enough," is her instant reply but he doesn't miss the way her full mouth twitches in amusement. "Try it again and mean it this time."

Reminding himself that he's a gentleman of wealth and status and that gentleman of wealth and status do not make childish faces at very powerful witches at the dining table – or anywhere else for that matter – Matt focuses all of his annoyance on the apple and almost says the incantation before he remembers Alex's warning about the dangers of relying on his anger to feed his magic. The thought makes him uneasy and stops him in his tracks.

Quickly changing gears, he thinks instead of the effortless way Alex had performed the simple magic during breakfast, the small smile on her lips as she'd watched the fruit twirl around in the air above her – her own private entertainment. He wants that. Not only for himself and for his family but because he wants to see Alex beam at him again like she had yesterday when he'd made the apple lift into the air after hours of practice. She'd been proud of him and he wants that just once more.

Magic sizzling under his skin like a living thing, Matt whispers, "Motus."

The apple lifts from his palm and whirls in the air around his head, performing a funny little waltz all by itself. Alex laughs in delight, clapping her hands and tilting her face up to watch the apple's progress. "Very well done," she says, beaming, and he glows at the praise. "I told you, darling.

You just have to want it badly enough."

the magic's in the music

Chapter Summary

His eyes trace over the graceful line of her back, the sweep of her hair and those bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, and he swallows hard. There is something about this strange woman – he knows next to nothing about her but that she's an extraordinarily powerful and prodigious witch – but he finds himself drawn to her inexplicably.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Do You Believe In Magic by the Lovin' Spoonful.

His first afternoon free, Matt spends some time at the little writing desk in his room, penning a letter to his family and detailing his progress – leaving out the sudden attack of fruit, of course. Even as he writes he knows his rather quick improvement from the inability to do even the simplest magic to summoning an apple to his hand will make it difficult for his family to believe until they've seen with their own eyes. He can hardly wait to see the look on Laura's face.

Dipping his ring in hot wax and pressing the engraved family crest onto the envelope to seal it, he carefully sets it aside to mail later, leaning back in his seat and glancing around with a sigh. There isn't much to do in the time between his lessons and usually the magic is so draining he sleeps for hours after but it's been getting better lately. The past few days he hasn't learned anything new, Alex insisting he needs to practice and perfect what he has learned so far but after days of summoning apples and levitating them and making them move about the room in mid-air, he's itching to try something else.

Wondering if Alex might permit him to forage through his magical textbooks and find something interesting to study, he rises slowly to his feet and stretches, starting for his bedroom door and the stairs. As soon as his feet hit the first floor of the house, he hears her voice – that low, soft murmur he'd heard the day he arrived. He follows it again and the sound takes him on the same path it had then, through the halls past the parlour, the dining room and the kitchen until he stands at the back garden door and sees her barefoot in a maroon gown, kneeling over her flowers and singing softly to them. Moffat slips past his legs with a hiss, disappearing into the house, and Matt sticks out his tongue at him as he goes.

"Does that actually accomplish anything or is it that no one else will sit still long enough to listen to you for hours at a time?"

Alex doesn't even jump at the sound of his voice, as if she'd somehow sensed his presence before he ever said a word, but she glances over her shoulder at him, honey curls falling down her back in soft waves. "Care to find out?"

"You want me to sing to your flowers?" He laughs, shaking his head.

She frowns. "What else have you got to do?"

"Actually, I was hoping you'd return my magic books." He looks at her pleadingly, trying not to fidget like a little boy asking for sweets as her frown only deepens. "Just to study – I'm astoundingly bored when we're not having lessons."

She arches an eyebrow. "I'm offering you a lesson right now, darling."

"Singing to your flowers is not a lesson," he sniffs. "It's madness."

She shrugs lightly; turning back to her garden as she says, "Suit yourself then."

She doesn't spare him another glance and Matt hovers in the doorway against his will, watching as she leans in close, touching delicate petals and murmuring softly. His eyes trace over the graceful line of her back, the sweep of her hair and those bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of her gown, and he swallows hard. There is something about this strange woman – he knows next to nothing about her but that she's an extraordinarily powerful and prodigious witch – but he finds himself drawn to her inexplicably. He likes spending time with her and moments not spent in her company find him thinking of her – her laugh, the elegant twist of her hand when she performs magic, that peculiar light in her eyes when she looks at him. She is entirely bewitching without any magic at all.

When Alex glances up at him expectantly, Matt realizes he has somehow crossed the yard to stand next to her without even realizing it. "Change your mind?"

He blinks. "I must have."

Moving over to make room for him, she pats the ground next to her. "Down here then. And take off that jacket – hardly appropriate for gardening."

"And your gowns are?" He asks, sinking slowly down next to her and instantly dirtying the knees of his trousers. He slips off his jacket and tosses it aside, turning his attention to rolling up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

"Unlike you, Mr. Smith, I don't have the luxury of trousers," she says, offering him a baleful look. "And I can hardly prance about in my altogether with you here, can I?"

Head lifting instantly, he gapes at her with wide eyes, his mouth suddenly dry. "Y-you mean to say you do that when I'm not here?"

Her smile turns impish and she slides her gaze coyly away from him. "Admitting such a thing would be terribly improper of me."

It's as good as a yes and Matt finds himself staring blankly at the soil beneath him as images flit through his mind of Alexandra Kingston wandering around her garden with barely a stitch of clothing on her lovely frame – or worse (Better? He can't decide) nothing on at all. It doesn't take long for his mind to conjure very ungentlemanly thoughts of her bent over flowers in the nude, breasts swaying and bum in the air. It's suddenly far too hot and he clears his throat uncomfortably, tugging at his shirt collar.

Alex watches him with a gleam in her eye and a smirk curling her lips, as if she can read his thoughts. The very idea is horrifying and not at all implausible considering her powers, so Matt struggles to get his mind out of the gutter and back where it belongs. He has a fiancée – not a fiancée that he loves, but a fiancée nonetheless – and having highly improper, filthy thoughts about another woman – his tutor, no less – is unforgiveable. "So… flowers then?"

Quickly turning her attention back to her garden rather than the blush on his cheeks, Alex bites her lip and nods. "I know it isn't very ladylike to boast but I happen to know for a fact that my flowers are lovelier and brighter than any other woman's in London or in fact, anywhere else in England."

He eyes the flowers all around her garden critically, noticing for the first time the varying, vibrant hues – yellows and purples, pinks and blues, oranges and reds. It's almost blinding, and he has to admit, absolutely beautiful. It would take a deft hand to create and maintain all of this. And apparently an accomplished falsetto.

"They're lovely," he murmurs, still admiring them. "How do you do it?"

"I sing to them, of course."

He raises his brows skeptically. "That's it?"

This time, it's Alex who flushes. "Alright, I'll confess but you have to promise not to reveal what I'm about to tell you to anyone."

He nods hurriedly, curious and more than a little hypnotized by the softness of her voice. "Your secret's safe with me, Kingston."

She drops her gaze, plucking idly at her skirts as she confesses. "I first discovered my powers when I was about three years old, singing a nursery rhyme to my kitten about a saucer of milk. I conjured the milk out of thin air just by singing about it."

"The very first time you did magic was conjuration?" Matt snorts softly, running his fingers through floppy hair. "Blimey, not even Lor did that."

"My singing voice was my trigger just like strong emotions are yours." She trails her fingertips over the soil beneath her, still avoiding his gaze. "It's why I learned wordless magic – I was determined not to have to sing whenever I needed to use my powers. But it's nice to do things the old-fashioned way now and again, and my flowers certainly seem to like it."

Delighted, Matt grins at her. "You have a magic voice."

She rolls her eyes. "Hardly. I'm talking right now and no spells are being cast. It's only when I sing."

"Hang on, so when you're singing to your flowers you're doing magic?" He gasps and Alex blushes again, ducking her head. "You're cheating, you minx!"

"Only a little," she admits reluctantly. "Is that terribly wicked of me?"

Matt watches her avoid his gaze and thinks of her out here, singing soft, beautiful melodies to her

flowers, infusing them with warmth and sunlight to make them bloom brighter and healthier, and he cannot condemn such a lovely thought. "I think it's amazing," he admits quietly, and smiles when her eyes lift to meet his. "Can you do it now? I'd like to hear you."

She stares at him, tentatively pleased, and his heart swells in his chest. "Alright, if you like." She clears her throat primly, one small hand reaching out to brush a pink allium. The moment she opens her mouth and begins to sing softly, Matt is entranced by the sweet, lush sound of her voice. He isn't the only one. Right before his eyes, the flower she touches glows with golden light for a brief moment and when she pulls her hand away, the flower is deeper and richer in color, as enchanted by the singing witch as he is.

He sits at her side for some time, dirt all over his fine suit and the afternoon sun beating down on them, but he barely notices, too mesmerized by the sound of her voice and the serene, happy expression on her face as she sings. He feels the same contentedness wash over him and he glances down at his hand, searching for that golden light and wondering if he'd been touched by her magic simply by being so near. His skin doesn't glow but he feels the warmth in his chest nonetheless, and as he silently surrenders to the strange magic that is Alexandra the improper witch, thoughts of his betrothed are miles away.

She looks different.

He'd stumbles his way downstairs for breakfast, his hair hastily combed and his waistcoat half-heartedly buttoned, but Alex looks to have been up for hours already, her breakfast eaten and her hum cheerful as she wanders through the house searching for her parasol. Matt watches her with a suspicious, scrutinizing eye, chewing thoughtfully at his toast, and finally realizes. "You're wearing shoes."

Alex turns from upending the cushions on the settee to fix him with an exasperated look. "Yes, and?"

"You never wear shoes. And your hair is up – you never bother with your hair!"

Alex snorts. "Thank you so much, Mr. Smith."

He blushes, stuttering and nearly spilling his tea as he rushes to explain. "I didn't mean it like that, honestly. You're -" He swallows. "Lovely. Just the way you are." Alex glances away quickly, her

lips pursed and her fingers clenched tightly around a settee cushion. "I only meant to say that you look different. Are you going out?"

She nods, flinging aside the cushion and dropping to her knees, ducking her head beneath a chaise and feeling around with an arm. "Just a trip to the apothecary. I need potion ingredients."

Brightening instantly, Matt puts aside his tea to help her in her parasol search, asking eagerly, "Can I come with you?"

"You do know as long as you aren't missing a lesson, you're free to leave the house whenever you like," she says, sitting up with a huff when the space beneath the chaise does not produce her parasol. "You're hardly a prisoner here, darling."

"I know that." He ventures into the foyer to check the umbrella stand in hopes she'd actually put her parasol where it belonged and just hadn't thought to check there in search. "I just haven't felt inclined to go yet."

"Whyever not?" Alex watches him from the doorway, a hand on her hip. "London is full of all sorts of things to amuse a young man your age."

Having no desire to confess that little holds his interest out there in London more than in here with her, he shrugs and when the umbrella stand produces nothing but a stray shoe, a flower stem and a broomstick, sighs loudly. "Don't you ever put anything back where it belongs?"

"If I did, what would you do with all your time?" She arches a brow at him and he huffs, amused despite himself. "Why the sudden interest in town then?"

"You said you were getting ingredients for potions." He moves back into the parlour and Alex follows behind him, obviously willing to let him take over the search in her stead. "No one in my family ever bothers with potion -making and I find the chemistry rather fascinating. It's the only thing I can do without magic – it's all about the ingredients."

"You like potion-making?" Alex looks at him as if she's just discovered a rather pleasant secret and he delights in surprising her. "You never mentioned it."

Eyes landing on the fireplace on the other side of the room, Matt starts for it on a hunch and says, "It hardly seemed relevant. So can I accompany you?" He pauses in front of the fireplace just

before he ducks his head to glance inside, grinning at her through his fringe. "A proper lady needs an escort, after all."

"Not at my age," she scoffs. "But find my parasol and you're more than welcome to do whatever you like, darling."

Sputtering as his mind creates all sorts of scenarios that he's certain Alex hadn't been trying to imply, Matt quickly ducks his head inside the fireplace and blindly feels around, his face hot. When his fingers brush a slender handle, he makes a soft noise of triumph and pulls, yanking the parasol out from its hiding spot and waving it proudly as Alex laughs from the other side of the room.

As they're leaving the house, Alex shouts behind her, "See you in a bit, Moffat!"

Matt can't be sure but he thinks he hears an answering meow in return.

"Sometimes I think that cat actually understands what you're saying," he says, looping his arm through his without waiting to offer it. Curling her hand around his forearm, Alex only smiles. They walk the three blocks to the apothecary in companionable silence, Alex twirling her parasol with a happy grin and Matt just pleased to be out and about while in her company.

He can't help but notice as they venture down more populated streets that people have very strange reactions to the sight of Alex. Some openly stare as she walks by, a look of combined fear and reverence on their faces. Others actually cross the street when they spot her, eyes downcast and steps hurried. He'd been aware, of course, that Alex was powerful, but he'd had no idea she could generate such sensation wherever she went. No wonder she hardly leaves her home. It makes him a little sad to think of her shut away with only Moffat for company, merely because she doesn't want to be gawked at or cowered from. It's obvious to him that these people have never seen the Alex he sees every day – the barefoot songstress with wild hair and a penchant for talking to her disagreeable cat.

He tightens his grip on her arm as they approach their destination, and when Alex glances at him questioningly, he offers only a tight-lipped smile and a wink. The apothecary shop is small, dank, and filled to the brim with every imaginable ingredient one might need for potion making. Matt wanders up and down the aisles admiring the little vials with an awed, delighted expression on his face that seems to amuse Alex endlessly. "Poor darling, have you never been to an apothecary before?"

A little embarrassed, he picks up a vial of Henbane and fiddles with it. "We have servants to fetch this sort of thing when I require it."

"Takes all the fun out of it, if you ask me," she says, and plucks the bottle from his hands, smiling gently when he scowls. "We both know you'll drop it in another thirty seconds, darling. Spare me having to pay for the damages."

"Spoilsport," he mutters, and trails after her as she bustles up and down the aisles like she knows exactly where to go to get what she needs. "What do you need all these ingredients for anyway?"

"Different things, really," she says, rising up on her tiptoes as she tries to reach something on a higher shelf. "I'm nearly out of almost everything. My cupboards are appallingly bare – honestly, I'm ashamed of myself."

Gently pushing her aside to reach the vial she needs, Matt snatches up a bottle of Wormwood and hands it to her. "For the lady."

She sketches a little curtsy, her vials clinking together in her arms as she moves. "Thank you, kind sir. It seems you're more useful to have around than I realized."

"Oi!"

She laughs brightly and the rest of their shopping trip continues in the same cheery fashion. It isn't until they're walking home, laden down with carefully wrapped vials of everything Alex could possibly ever need for potions, that she grows quiet and contemplative. He nudges her gently as they near the house, brow furrowed in concern when she looks up at him. "Pence for your thoughts?"

She smiles, shaking her head. "I was just thinking about something you said before – about how you liked making potions because it was something you could do without magic…"

He nods when she trails off. "Yes, what about it?"

"Darling, in order to properly brew a potion, one must possess magic. Otherwise whatever you brewed would be nothing but a combination of ingredients with no affect at all." Her smile grows as he stares at her, realization dawning. "Your magic has been there all along, waiting for you to take notice."

Sitting in the middle of Alex's back garden once more – he's learned his lesson this time and donned a pair of trousers made of less expensive material – Matt stares forlornly around him at the piles of lumpy, misshapen apples littering the yard. Today's task had been to conjure an apple out of thin air and though he's been practicing for hours with only a small break for afternoon tea, the results of his efforts are rather pathetic.

Watching glumly as Moffat smugly prances over a pile of deformed apples, he sighs. "I can't do this, Kingston."

A soft gasp from her perch in the tree makes him glance up to find her glaring at him. "Matthew Smith, I do not ever want to hear those words out of your mouth again. Nothing kills magic faster than negativity."

He frowns, watching her slip from the low branch and land on her feet, as graceful as any cat. "You've been watching me! It's obvious I'm rubbish."

With a sigh, Alex sinks down to sit next to him in the grass, plucking an apple from one of the many piles around him. "Darling, it says quite a lot of your powers that you're even managed to conjure anything at all so early in your magical education. It takes most people years to do this." She holds his malformed apple up to the light with a small smile. "You've already conjured the apple. What you're doing now is perfecting it. It takes time but once you get it, it'll grow easier with practice."

A little comforted, Matt watches her toss the apple back onto the pile and shakes his head. "How do you manage to be so patient with me all the time? I don't think I could in your position."

Her eyes twinkle. "You're not as difficult as you like to think. I've had students far more troublesome than you – and with half your talent. It's almost a pleasure teaching you, darling."

Pleased, he fights back a blush and bites his lip, ducking his head to peek at her through his fringe. "Are all your students called 'darling' then?"

"Just you." Her eyes widen, as if she had never meant to admit such a thing, and she hurries to distract him. Quickly conjuring her own perfect, shiny red apple, she pushes it into his hands. "Study that, memorize how it feels, and then try to conjure your own."

Still grinning widely at her admission, Matt curls his fingers around the apple and his fingertips brush Alex's as she pulls away, her breath catching in her throat. She clenches her hands in her skirts, purses her lips tightly, and looks anywhere but at him until Moffat grows tired of investigating Matt's failures and curls up on her lap. As she scratches his ears and Moffat lounges across her legs with shameless purring noises, Matt tries to focus on the apple Alex had conjured.

He slides his fingers over the surface and feels the smooth outer texture. He cups both of his hands around it to commit the specific roundness of it to his memory. He swipes his thumb over the little stem at the top. Finally, he hands it back to Alex. "Alright, I think I'm ready."

"Go on then." She smiles. "Impress me."

Wanting nothing more than exactly that, Matt concentrates on his magic, fixes on the image of the apple in his mind, extends his palm, takes a deep breath, and releases the incantation into the air. "Fio." The apple that appears in his palm looks exactly like the one Alex had conjured and he laughs in triumph. "Look at that! It's perfect!"

Alex laughs and looks down at Moffat, who watches Matt unblinkingly, obviously not impressed. "Excellent, darling. But perhaps you should taste it, just to be sure."

Shrugging, he bites into the apple and instantly recoils as sour juice fills his mouth. "Eugh." He tosses the apple aside with a shudder. "That was bloody awful."

She smiles knowingly. "I thought it might be."

"Well a little warning would have been helpful," he grouses, wiping at his mouth. "What happened?"

"You can't just picture the apple," she explains, obviously fighting back laughter at his expression of disgust – curled lip and all. "You have to be able to taste it. Imagine your teeth sinking into the crisp peel, and the way the juice floods your mouth. An apple is more than how it looks."

Quickly glancing away before the mere sound of her voice lulls him into yet another embarrassing stupor, Matt rakes his long fingers through his hair and sighs.

"Don't get frustrated now; you're almost there." Alex reaches out a hand and presses it to his knee, squeezing gently, and when he glances up and meets her gaze, her eyes are soft and imploring but most importantly, full of faith in him. "One more time, darling. You can do this."

He nods once, swallowing hard, and Alex smiles, pulling her hand away to pet Moffat, who continues to glare at him. "Right, okay." He breathes out steadily. "Just imagine it and it's mine, right?"

Her smile dimples and she toys with a curl against her cheek. "Essentially."

He closes his eyes because concentrating on apples when she's sitting there in front of him looking like that would be nigh impossible. Without the distraction of her face and her voice and really, everything about her, imagining the apple is easier. He combines the sight, feel and smell of the apple with the crisp taste – so vividly he can almost feel the succulent fruit in his mouth and the juices dripping down his chin. "Fio."

When he opens his eyes to the apple waiting in his palm, it looks exactly the same as the one Alex had conjured but he eyes it hesitantly, reluctant to taste it. Alex laughs, watching him fondly. "Just try it. It won't bite."

Deciding to get it over with quickly, he brings the apple to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the fragile outer shell, elation filling him as the familiar taste of a delicious, crisp apple floods his mouth. When his eyes light up, Alex beams proudly at him and suddenly his apple tastes a little like victory.

"Good then?"

"Best apple I've ever tasted," he mumbles around a mouthful, and she giggles. "You have to try it, Kingston."

She takes the apple when he pushes it into her hand, still chewing with enthusiasm, but what she does next, he'd never expected. Instead of biting into a new spot, she presses her lips to the spot where he'd eaten, sinking her teeth in, her eyes fluttering shut in delight as she tastes. Matt stares at her – not even chewing anymore – as his stomach turns over and heat floods his whole body.

"G-good?" He chokes out.

"Mm," she moans softly in reply, shutting her eyes as she chews. "Perfect."

Suddenly very uncomfortable in his tight trousers, Matt forces his gaze away, his heart pounding. He can't help but imagine what it would be like if he actually could conjure anything he liked just by imagining it – the lush fullness of Alex's lips against his own, how soft they might be, and how eagerly they might part for him, the little gasp of surprise she might make before sinking into his embrace.

Gaze drawn back to her without his permission, Matt watches as she takes another bite, her eyes open now as she looks at him, her smile wide and bright, entirely unaware of her charms. He swallows thickly, wishing everything were as straightforward as conjuring an apple.

this magic moment

Chapter Summary

His life is being planned out for him in his absence and the only thing left for him to do is show up at the right time and let it happen. It's a dismal thought, but he'd grown almost accustomed to it before – well, before Alex.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from the Drifters song.

Matty,

I hope you realize the havoc your last letter has wrought. News that you are actually capable of magic after all sent Mother into a bout of tears the likes of which I haven't seen since I told her she was going to be a grandmother five years ago. Father, of course, instantly wrote to Bronner Lowe to tell him the good news. Your soon-to-be father-in-law was quite ecstatic, proclaimed the engagement official and now I've been forced into preparing for the ball where your betrothal will be announced – set for nearly the moment you return. And all right, perhaps I haven't been forced. You know how I love a good party – especially when I'm in charge of it.

I'm still not convinced you aren't lying through your teeth, darling brother, but if you can perform any magic at all, Alexandra Kingston is utterly miraculous – and holds all the patience of a saint. Try not to drive her utterly mad before you leave, won't you?

I must go – planning is well under way and I'm to assist your fiancée in selecting material for a dress this afternoon. I know this isn't what you want, Matty, but she's a charming girl and I think, in time, the two of you will manage to be very happy together. Stay positive, and try not to injure yourself with your new powers.

I miss you only a little.

Your loving sister,

Laura

With a sad smile and a little sigh, Matt tucks the letter away into the pocket inside his jacket and scrubs a hand over his face wearily. Well, there's no going back now, is there? His life is being planned out for him in his absence and the only thing left for him to do is show up at the right time and let it happen. It's a dismal thought, but he'd grown almost accustomed to it before – well, before Alex. Before Alex, marrying Daisy had seemed like nothing but an obligation, a way to appease his family and make everyone happy. Now, it's a prison sentence.

Thinking of her, Matt climbs to his feet and leaves his chambers behind, wanting only to be near her for as long as he can, before he's forced to leave her vine-eaten home on this quiet little street, with her bright laugh and her strange cat. The thought of leaving it all behind, never waking up in the morning to the sound of her singing in the garden, or walking into the kitchen to the smell of lavender and belladonna as she bottled potions, is a melancholy thought indeed.

When he finally finds her sitting on the floor of the parlour, teasing Moffat with a ball of yarn, he sinks onto the settee and rests his elbows on his knees, chin in his open palms as he simply stares at her, drinking her in. Once he leaves, he'll move back to Wiltshire to be with his family, marry Daisy, and depending on what her father wants, possibly move even further away to be closer to him. More than likely, he will never see Alex again. The thought makes his chest ache and he rubs at his sternum, his eyes stinging.

Without glancing up from her game with Moffat, Alex asks, "What does your sister say?"

For a moment, he doesn't reply, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. Somehow, this ridiculous, eccentric, beautiful woman has captured his heart without even trying, and when he leaves, she'll never know just how far he has fallen. Clearing his throat softly, he manages, "She's helping to plan the ball where my betrothal will be announced."

On the floor, Alex tenses so briefly Matt almost believes he'd imagined it, but when she turns to look at him, her smile is wide and entirely without sincerity – though he suspects he can only tell the difference because he has cherished every single genuine grin the woman has ever bestowed on him. "Is she? How lovely." Moffat bats viciously at the yarn in her clenched fist and she releases her grip, letting him have it. "You must be so pleased! Congratulations, darling."

He ducks his head and mutters a hoarse, "Thank you."

His voice must sound as hollow to her ears as his because Alex softens, watching him in sympathy. "It won't be so bad, Matt. You'll see. Most people grow to care for or even love their match in an arranged marriage."

He nods slowly, knowing that it's true. His mother and father had been betrothed to each other since they were barely old enough to walk and now though they're not madly in love, they have come to care very much for each other, like the best of friends. Laura's marriage to James had been arranged and the two of them are so in love it's quite sickening to be in the same room with them. Somehow, he doubts his relationship with Daisy will be quite so happily settled – especially not now, when his heart belongs to another. "Did you ever marry, Kingston?" He asks, genuinely curious but also desperately wanting to stop talking about his own impending nuptials.

"Oh no," she laughs softly. "I've always been far too independent to let a man just swoop in and control my life and my property." Her smile dims and her eyes dart from his, her expression sad and wistful all of a sudden. "I almost did, though, once."

Instantly intrigued, Matt prods, "Really? Who?"

"It was a long time ago, darling. I was still a girl, practically." She raises her eyes and smiles thinly. "He wasn't quite who I thought he was and thankfully I found that out before I married him."

"What happened?"

For a long moment, she says nothing and he's about to apologize for being so forward when she finally speaks, her eyes on Moffat curled on her lap. "He was a wealthy young bachelor - I'm sure you've heard of him but I won't say his name. Every girl batted her eyes and fawned over him, hoping he'd notice them but he wanted me." She frowns, lost in thought, and Matt can't help but wonder what she must have been like then, younger and in love. "I thought he loved me and it took me far too long to realize he only loved what I could do for him. I was more powerful than any of the other eligible witches and he loved having me on his arm - I made him look powerful too." She sighs suddenly, glancing up with a pained smile. "Once I understood that, I ended things. There hasn't really been anyone else since."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. Choked with emotion and rage that someone would dare use Alex for her powers, he can't manage to say anything else. It makes sense now, of course - why she shuts herself away here. He wonders if she believes everyone uses her like that cad had done but he finds that he doesn't have the courage to ask and hear the answer.

She shakes her head, brushing her curls from her face. "Don't be. I like things the way they are – here with my flowers and Moffat, and you for the time being." She forces a smile that makes his chest ache. "And when you're gone, some other magically hopeless person will come along and keep me company for a while."

The idea of being replaced like an old pair of shoes is like a knife to his gut and Matt struggles not to show it. "What do you mean for the time being? Are you saying you'll never come to visit, Kingston? We both know I'm your favorite student."

She laughs and he's pleased to see the melancholy leave her eyes, if only for a little while. "Perhaps I'll come to your betrothal announcement. It might be worth it just to see you dance."

"Oi, I am a brilliant dancer," he says, outraged.

"Forgive me, darling, if I don't believe you." She smirks. "You are quite possibly the clumsiest student I've ever had the misfortune to encounter. My sympathies for the poor girls who have been your partners in the past – their toes must have ached for hours after."

Matt gapes at her, insulted even as he resists the urge to laugh. "Alright then, you leave me no choice, Kingston." He stands quickly from the settee, brushes off his trousers and holds out a hand to her with an elaborate bow. "May I request the next dance, my lady?"

She purses her lips against a bout of laughter, gently scooping Moffat from her lap to settle him next to her as she climbs to her feet. Dipping into a curtsy, she murmurs, "You may, though I still fear for my poor toes, sir."

"They'll remain unharmed, madam," he says with a laugh. "You have my word."

She takes his hand and lets him lead her into the middle of the parlour. "We seem to be without music, sir."

"I'm sure you're quite capable of amending that." He winks at her and she sighs.

"Was this just an elaborate ruse to get me to sing, then?"

"Of course not," he says, pressing a hand to his heart. "But… I do like hearing you."

Smothering a smile, Alex shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and begins to hum the melody of a

popular waltz so perfectly that Matt could almost believe he were hearing the real thing. Slowly, he places his hands on her upper arms and Alex does the same, a becoming flush on her cheeks as she stands as close as propriety allows. As he begins to sweep her around the room, Alex looks apprehensive and she feels tense under his hands but as the minutes pass and he doesn't trod on her feet, she begins to relax, concentrating more on her humming as she lets herself be lead around.

Secretly pleased, Matt grins as he twirls her, both of them expertly stepping around Moffat, who refuses to budge for them. Truthfully, he used to be absolutely dreadful when it came to dancing, always stepping on his partner's toes or the hem of their dresses, but even living out in the country provided plenty of opportunities for dances and balls. His parents very quickly obtained their clumsy son a proper tutor and he remembers spending hours every week with a stern, matronly woman who very nearly snarled at him whenever he stepped on her feet. He learned very quickly to be graceful when the occasion called for it.

He isn't sure how long they whirl around the parlour together, dancing around furniture with light, quick steps, but he loses himself in the sound of Alex's soft humming, occasionally interrupted by a giggle when Matt takes her hand and twirls her. This time, when he draws her back into him again, she's closer than before, nearly pressed flush against him, but neither of them steps back. They keep waltzing, so close he can feel the heat radiating from her body and hear the hitch in her breath when his hand slides down her arm of its own accord to rest at her hip instead. He curls his fingers there tightly and if Alex is suddenly even closer, the curves of her body pressed against him, she doesn't try to stop him.

Never in his life has he been so improper with a lady before but something about Alex makes him take leave of his senses entirely. He wants nothing but to be near her, to hold her in his arms and bury his face in soft curls. He wants to let his hands wander to forbidden places and to know what her mouth would feel like under his own. Wild, inappropriate thoughts racing through his mind as they dance, Matt loses the rhythm of the waltz and before long they're only standing in the middle of the room and swaying gently, their bodies pressed tightly together. His eyes flutter shut as Alex strokes his hair, her fingers drifting down to stroke gently at the back of his neck.

He shudders at the light, illicit touch and turns his face into her curls, breathing her in greedily. The intoxicating scent of her garden – soft soil and new life – and the exotic, glittering tang of her magic is a heady combination and for a long moment, Matt is so lost to her that it takes him an inordinate amount of time to realize that Alex has stopped humming.

Pulling his head back to look at her curiously, he finds himself nearly nose to nose with her, looking into green eyes wide and dark with a need that reflects his own. He licks his lips, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth. She stares back at him, scarcely breathing, full lips parted invitingly. A man stronger than he would have crumbled at the sight of her and Matt has found that he is so very weak when it comes to Alex.

He leans in, his heart in his throat and his hands shaking, and brushes his lips lightly against hers. Alex inhales shakily and he feels her fingers curl into the collar of his jacket as he presses in again, his kiss warm and impatient. She moans, dragging him closer, and her lips part beneath his own. His stomach somersaults and he holds her face in his hands, his tongue delving inside the tempting warmth of her mouth to taste tea and magic and sunlight – a wonderful, teasing glimpse of paradise before a loud crash from the other side the room startles them apart. Alex gasps raggedly and stumbles away from him, and they both turn to see a shattered vase lying in the middle of the floor.

It must have fallen from the mantle and he frowns in confusion.

Panting a little, her face flushed and her curls somehow wilder than ever, Alex takes another step back, nearly tripping over Moffat in her haste. "Well, it seems my voice doesn't only affect the flowers, hm?" She laughs shakily and he watches her hide trembling hands behind her back. "But I believe you now, darling. You're quite the accomplished dancer. I never would have imagined -

"

Matt reaches out a hand for her and she stiffens. "Alex -"

"Please don't." She drops her gaze to the floor and continues in a quiet, hollow voice, "You have a duty to your family, Matt. Don't make our parting a painful one."

Curling his hands into fists at his sides, Matt nods stiffly. "Of course. Because this doesn't hurt at all."

Alex flinches but he doesn't try to reach for her again, turning on his heel and leaving her standing in the middle of the parlour as he retreats hastily back to his chambers.

He keeps to himself for the remainder of the day, retiring to bed earlier than usual in hopes that sleep will take away the lump in his throat and the taste of Alex from his mouth. His dreams are vivid and full of his tutor, imagining the caress of her hands and the soft slickness of her mouth. He tosses and turns in his sleep, sure he can feel phantom hands on him, and when he wakes in the middle of the night with a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin, he gasps up at the ceiling and can still feel the strange touch.

Fingers coast down the length of his chest lightly and he yanks back his blankets, staring wildly

into the dark and seeing absolutely nothing. The ghost-like touch isn't cold but as warm as if real hands are touching him and in his half-asleep state, torn between reality and the vivid dreams of Alex, he sees no reason not to arch into those fingers. His stomach muscles tense and he clenches his jaw, fighting back a groan as fingertips trace over his hipbones – up and down, up and down, until he's writhing against his sheets and hissing please through clenched teeth.

Warm hands stroke his bare legs, tickling at his inner thighs teasingly, and Matt makes a soft noise of impatience, panting. His erection is a heavy, throbbing ache and when an unseen hand finally wraps around the length of him, he cannot stifle a whimper of relief. He shuts his eyes as a thumb slides swiftly over the sensitive head of his cock, imagining that it's Alex here with him in the dark, touching him so boldly. He pictures her sitting astride his lap, totally bare of everything but that infuriating little smirk, because she so loves driving him mad.

"Alex," he whispers, and the hand wrapped around his length begins to pump up and down in firm, steady strokes. Matt turns his cheek into his pillow, keeping his eyes firmly shut as he groans, lifting his hips to meet the unseen touch. "Please, god -"

The touch leaves him almost immediately but Matt keeps his eyes firmly shut, waiting for it to return, his whole body humming with need. She can't leave him here like this – miserable and wanting and right on the edge – she just can't. He clenches his fists tightly in his hands, struggling desperately to sink back into his dreams and find the touch again.

All at once, he feels warmth begin to envelop his cock and he gasps out a strangled moan at the feel of full lips stretching around his length and a hot tongue stroking the head of his cock. His fingers twist in the sheets and he arches frantically, desperate for more of that searing, wet touch. There is no one between his legs but he allows himself to imagine it's Alex – her slick mouth swallowing him down, her tongue tracing over the thick, sensitive vein on the underside of his cock to make him writhe. He loses himself so fully in his fantasy that he can almost feel the ends of her curls tickling his thighs.

It's the most erotic experience of his life – he can actually feel his cock sliding through swollen lips, the head hitting the back of a throat. An expert tongue slips and slides over him eagerly, ghost fingertips apply exquisite pressure to his testicles, and as Matt cants his hips forward with a needy whimper, he can feel slick saliva coating his skin. It's messy and obscene and he cannot stop himself, thrusting his hips into the air and fucking a mouth that isn't really there – a mouth he desperately wishes belonged to Alex. She would be so gorgeous kneeling between his legs, her mouth red and swollen, her eyes dark as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Matt stifles a cry, a tight heat building in his groin as the Alex in his mind opens her mouth wider, taking in more of him until all he can feel is the wet slide of her lips and the hot, slick flesh of her throat. "Alex, oh god - "

For a brief, breath-stealing moment, he imagines she hums around him – that gorgeous, magical, golden hum – and he can feel it all through him, vibrating his cock. His back arches off the bed and he opens his eyes to stare unseeing at the ceiling, mouth open to draw in desperate gasps for air. With one last whimper of her name, he comes so hard he nearly blacks out, staining his sheets and his thighs with his release.

Breathing hard, he struggles for air and curls up on his side, letting his eyes slide shut again. He's utterly spent and exhausted, and it doesn't take long for him to slip back into dreams – this time of Alex tucked into his side, her bare skin slick and warm against his as she sleeps.

When he wakes in the morning and remembers, he flushes so brightly he wonders if his face will remain red permanently. He climbs out of bed grateful that it had been nothing more than an erotic dream he can push to the back of his mind until notices the state of his sheets. Cursing softly, he crosses to the pitcher of water on his bureau and pours it into the bowl there to wash himself off. He strokes a wet cloth over his skin, stomach flip-flopping as he recalls the phantom touch last night, stroking him in all the right ways. It reminds him all over again that he is so new to the world of magic. Alex had said that his emotions could control his powers if he let it and she'd been right. It had taken nothing more than vivid dreams and a brief kiss to make him lose his tenuous grasp on his newly-found magic.

Groaning, he leans over his bureau, head in his hands, and wonders how he'll ever look Alex in the eye again. If she ever knew the nature of his thoughts last night – what he'd done while thinking of her – she would undoubtedly throw him from her home and curse him with boils or something equally unpleasant and he would deserve it. They'd shared one kiss and he'd lost complete control of his mind and his magic. She's more dangerous to him than he ever realized.

By the time he dresses and gathers his courage, he's late for breakfast but Alex is still there, slipping pieces of toast to Moffat, who meows pitifully under the table when she ignores him. Matt lingers in the doorway for a long moment, not really looking at her and wondering if it would be ridiculous to just walk into the dining room and sit down, sip his tea and ask about the lesson for the day – as if nothing at all had happened between them yesterday. As if he couldn't close his eyes right now and imagine her hands and mouth on him.

Deciding that he'll wait for Alex's cue, he steps cautiously into the room and says awkwardly, "Morning."

Alex glances up, startled, and his eyes find hers instantly. It's the first time he's properly looked at her this morning and all those thoughts from last night come rushing back in vivid flashes. He blushes fiercely as he sinks into the chair across from her but Alex smiles tentatively, her eyes soft. "Good morning, darling."

Tearing his gaze away from the sight of her – so beautiful and untouchable his chest aches – Matt

says nothing else for a while, pouring his tea and spreading marmalade on toast. He listens to the sound of Alex's teacup clattering lightly against her saucer and Moffat begging for another piece of toast with a quiet meow, and eventually, the silence presses in too tightly. He swallows hard, his eyes darting up to hers briefly before skittering away again. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "About yesterday. I overstepped all the boundaries of propriety and I hope you can forgive me."

Alex breathes out quietly and though he can't bring himself to look at her, he can feel her gaze on him as she whispers, "There's nothing to forgive, Matt."

He nods once, his mouth dry. "Good."

They finish their breakfast in silence, and when they're through, Alex eyes him hesitantly. "Would you like to continue your lessons today?"

"Please," he answers instantly, because as painful as being around her is, it will be nothing compared to the moment he'll part from her forever. He will spend every moment with her he can and treasure them all in the lonely days to come.

"Well, you've mastered some of the basics. Is there anything you want to learn?"

"Whatever you want to teach me." He raises his eyes to hers. "Kingston."

Alex smiles.

bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I

Chapter Summary

As hard as they both try to move on and forget what happened, the days that pass following the incident in the parlour are awkward and filled with tension – more so on Matt's part considering he also has to deal with illicit thoughts of the other night on top of memories of that one brief, perfect kiss.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from the Frank Sinatra song.

As hard as they both try to move on and forget what happened, the days that pass following the incident in the parlour are awkward and filled with tension – more so on Matt's part considering he also has to deal with illicit thoughts of the other night on top of memories of that one brief, perfect kiss. He's distracted every time he's around Alex, which makes concentrating during lessons difficult at best. How can she expect him to practice warming spells and cooling spells and basic healing when she's so near – when he can breathe in her scent, look into her eyes, feel her guiding touch on his arm?

His lack of focus frustrates Alex to no end. He jumps every time she touches him, forgets every word of her instructions and advice the moment she looks into his eyes, trips over nothing when she smiles at him. Alex is the most patient woman he's ever met in his life but even she is reaching the limit of her seemingly endless supply.

By the fourth day after their kiss, they're both on edge.

"Honestly, Matthew, did you listen to anything I just said?"

"Of course I did! And don't call me Matthew!"

"I will call you whatever I like," she snaps, and he can't help noticing the way her eyes glitter when she's cross with him. It's so enticing he finds himself swaying toward her unconsciously. "And if you were listening, then what did I just say?"

Matt instantly drops his eyes and scowls at his boots.

She taps her foot.

"Something about concentrating," he mumbles.

Heaving a mighty sigh and turning from him to pace toward the mantle, fingers tangled in her curls, Alex shakes her head and mutters under her breath. Whirling on him, her dress flaring around her bare feet, she manages a tight-lipped smile. "Yes, something about concentrating. Because you haven't been concentrating for days. Are you simply beyond my lessons now? Has the great Matthew Smith learned all there is to know about magic? Perhaps you've got something you'd like to teach me instead?" She crosses her arms over her chest and feigns interest. "Please, go on. Clearly, the student has surpassed the teacher."

"Stop it," he says, frowning. "You know that isn't true."

"Then why aren't you paying attention? I'm terribly sorry this is keeping you from your massive estate and your wealthy bride but -"

"Stop it, Alex -"

"Magic is not a game. It is dangerous and wild and if you are not careful you could hurt or even kill yourself. I'm trying to keep you safe, Matt!"

"I know," he snaps, and softens the moment he lifts his head to look at her. "I know. I'm sorry, Kingston." He breathes out quietly through his nose; running his fingers through his hair and sighing when his fringe flops back into his eyes. "Let's just try again, shall we?"

Pursing her lips tightly, she nods once.

Squaring his shoulders, Matt draws upon his magic with relative ease now but the trouble is clearing his mind of all else but the candelabra sitting on the dining room table. Lighting the candles – he can do this. He just has to stop thinking about Alex and her hair and her bloody glorious mouth and that unmistakable scent she carries with her everywhere she goes. He bites down on his lip hard.

"Ignem."

She's just so near and so tempting and he would give anything – possibly even his newly-discovered magic – just to kiss her once more, to feel all those curves flush against him and have her press closer rather than pull away. His mind strays just as his magic flares and he snaps his attention back to the present just in time to see the candles on the table burst simultaneously into bright, high flames, melting all at once right down to the quick.

Behind him, Alex is too shocked to speak, gaping at the smoking wax dripping onto her dining table, ruining the finish as it dries. Matt winces, swallowing hard. "Erm, sorry."

Alex makes a strangled noise of disbelief and he finally gathers his courage enough to turn around and look at her properly. She stares at him with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed in her obvious outrage and blimey, even her hair looks angry with him. He takes an unconscious step back, though he knows she doesn't even need to move to hurt him if she really wants to. "Sorry?" She asks faintly, her eyes drifting from him, to the candelabra and back again. "You're sorry?"

"Kingston -"

"That was an amateur mistake, Matt! I've seen twelve year old boys do that!"

He bites his lip. "Well, I do look quite young for my age -" A zap in the side – like someone has just pinched him – cuts off the rest of his sentence with a yelp of surprise and he gapes at her, clutching his side in outrage. "Kingston!"

"I've taught you better than that," she snaps, her glare daring him to interrupt her again. "This is child's play compared to the other things you've learned!" She runs a hand through her curls, shaking her head and looking seconds from crossing the room and slapping him. "How many times do I have to tell you to concentrate – to want what you're about to ask your magic for? What's the matter with you lately? You've been off somewhere else for days!"

He stares at her, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling up in his chest and climbing up his throat. "What's the matter – what's the matter with me?" Alex eyes him warily as he takes a step closer. "What's the matter with me is that I don't want to light a bloody candle."

Alex throws up her hands, exasperated. "Well what do you want?"

"Not what, who." He takes another step but Alex holds her ground, her shoulders tense and her chin already quivering. "And it doesn't matter because no matter how badly I want, I can't have you."

She swallows when he stops right in front of her, so close her can feel heat radiating from her body, feel the way she trembles. Finally, she lifts her head to look at him and he stares into green eyes swimming with tears. "I'm trying to do the right thing," she whispers.

"I'm a big boy, Kingston. I don't need you to protect my heart." He cups her face in his hands and she barely blinks, melting into the touch.

"And who's going to protect mine?"

Her voice shakes and Matt feels his heart leap into his throat as he looks down at her, this powerful witch that he somehow manages to make so achingly vulnerable. He strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her cheek and her eyes pierce his own as he promises softly, "Your heart is safe with me."

"Matt – "

Sensing a protest on the tip of her tongue, he doesn't give her a chance to voice it, tightening his hands on her face and bending his head, his kiss gentle but greedy as he silences her. Alex struggles for only a moment, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket to push him away, but she ends up hauling him closer instead, a soft whimper in her throat. Matt slips one hand into her hair, curling his fingers tightly around blonde ringlets, and slides the fingertips of the other along her throat, across her collarbone and slowly past her breast, palming it briefly just to hear her moan softly, her mouth opening under his. He grips her hip tightly, drawing her near until there isn't a space between them, his tongue twining hungrily with hers.

The last time he'd tasted her kiss had been so brief and he groans as the tang of tea and old magic bursts across his tongue now. He has all the time in the world and he plans on taking things slow, his mouth slick and hot as it slides against hers. Alex lets go of the lapel of his jacket to sift her hands through his hair, lifting onto her tiptoes to get as close as she can. She sucks on his bottom lip, nips with her teeth and drives him absolutely mad.

With a growl of desire, he backs her into the dining table and lifts her, settling her on top of it. He steps between her legs, his hands already fumbling with her skirts. It takes all of his willpower to tear himself away from the tempting warmth of her clever mouth, and he strokes her face

reverently, breathing hard as he presses three quick parting kisses to the corner of her lips, resisting Alex when she tries to draw him back in.

Instead, he drops to his knees and presses his kiss-swollen lips to her delicate ankle, tongue snaking out to dart over a charming freckle there. "So lovely," he whispers, his hands slipping beneath her skirts and his mouth dragging sensuously along the length of her calf until he reaches her knee, where he presses open-mouthed kisses. "My lovely, bewitching tutor. I never had a chance in hell of resisting you."

"I was never trying to tempt you," she breathes, her eyes dark as she looks down at him, and he wonders how quickly he might have fallen to his knees if she'd actually made an effort to seduce him. Five minutes after they met, he suspects.

"You never had to," is all he replies, and Alex drapes her leg over his shoulder, pressing the heel of her foot to the back of his neck to drag him closer. He huffs out a quiet laugh, kissing the soft skin of her inner thigh. He can feel the heat of her sex, smell the musky scent of her arousal, and his trousers are suddenly so tight he can't breathe. Christ.

Quickly disentangling himself from her, Matt yanks her petticoats down her legs with shaking hands while Alex leans back on the table and kicks them away. The moment she's free, she sits up again, pulling him up to her by his fringe, and he braces himself against the edge of the table with his hands, his mouth hard and biting against her lips. Alex gives as good as she gets, sucking lightly, teasingly, on his tongue, and his eyes nearly roll back in his head.

She doesn't say a word, but her eyes flash and the buttons of his jacket go flying. She wastes no time in yanking the fabric from his shoulders. It drops to the floor and seconds later, his waistcoat follows. Things are moving quickly now, and as much as he wants to spread her out on a bed and explore her for hours, he doesn't think they're going to make it all the way upstairs. It's difficult enough not to yank her dress up right now and push into the tight heat of her sex but there's something he has to know first. An unmarried woman, living alone, mostly recluse, with everyone in town too intimidated by her powers to really get too close…

"Alex," he whispers, biting his lip as she licks at his jaw. "Are-are you – have you ever-"

She shakes her head quickly, her breath coming in short, sharp pants against his throat. "I'm alright, darling. Hardly made of porcelain."

Slipping his hands beneath her, he grips the back of her thighs tightly and lifts her into his arms, kissing her cheek when Alex wraps her around his neck without protest. "Not here," he says softly.

She tightens her legs around his narrow waist and god, he can feel the heat of her core through his trousers, grinding against his clothed erection. Alex gasps, her hips bucking. "Parlour," she breathes.

Matt stumbles from the dining room and down the hall to the parlour, thankfully seeing no sign of Alex's strangely protective cat along the way. He trips on the rug on the way to the settee and they fall onto it tangled together, not even pausing to catch their breath as their mouths meet once again. Alex cradles him between thighs, wrapping her arms tightly around him as he kicks off his boots and mouths at her the soft, supple skin of her chest. He tugs at the neckline of her dress, grumbling about corsets until finally Alex pushes him away, and that golden light gleams in her eyes just before her corset disappears from beneath her dress to land on the floor next to his boots. He really must learn the incantation for that.

"You think you're so clever," he whispers fondly, and her quiet laughter turns to a strangled moan as he rips at the bodice of her dress and the thin chemise beneath it to expose full breasts and nipples stiff with arousal. His mouth waters as Alex sits up to pull the tattered remains of her dress and chemise over her head, tossing it to the floor, suddenly gloriously naked beneath him. "My God, Kingston. Look at you."

She yanks his mouth down to hers, her fingers curled around his ears, and smirks against his lips. "I've grown tired of you merely looking, darling. I want you to touch me."

It's a request he grants happily, his erection stiff and throbbing against the tight confines of his trousers as he smoothes his palms over her stomach, cups the heavy weight of her breasts, marvels over smooth, creamy skin under his touch. Alex responds to his every caress with soft sighs, and moans she tries to muffle by sinking her teeth into her plump bottom lip. The sight of her splayed beneath him and trying not to make a sound as he touches her is so erotic his head spins.

He drops his head to her chest, parting his lips to lick and suck at her breasts, relishing the way Alex gasps and squirms beneath him. Her hands thread through his hair and her back arches as he envelopes the stiff peak of a nipple in his mouth, laving his tongue over it and sucking hard just to hear her breath catch. "Darling," she pleads, her voice ragged. "Please, oh please -"

He kisses a path across her chest to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention as his hand slips down her body and between her thighs. He groans around her nipple when he parts her folds and finds her slick and ready, coating his fingers in her arousal. Alex keens, tossing her head back, curls spilling across the pillow behind her.

"Oh, how wet you are, my love," he breathes against the skin of her breast, slick with his saliva.

She whimpers, spreading her legs a little wider, and he strokes her softly, fingertips teasing at her clit. "Is this what I do to you, Alex?"

"Yes," she hisses, her hips lifting as he pushes a finger inside the tight heat of her sex. She pulses around him, silken and wet. He crooks his finger and she twitches, gasping. He mouths at her breasts, silently marveling at how easily she adjusts to a second, a third finger, even as she pants and whimpers, a lovely, writhing creature beneath him. She grits her teeth as he moves within her, flushed and gorgeous as she begs. "Oh yes, darling. There, please don't stop -"

"Never, Kingston. I'll take care of you." He kisses her cheek, sweaty and flushed, and Alex turns her face into his shoulder as he grinds the heel of his palm against her clit. She presses her forehead hard against his collarbone and cries out sharply as she comes, her dripping sex fluttering around his fingers and his name on her lips. He strokes her hair from her forehead tenderly, his lips against her temple. "I'll always take care of you."

"Do not make me promises you will never be able to keep," she whispers, reaching for him with shaking hands. He kisses her as they fumble blindly to finish undressing him – a shirt discarded and his trousers caught around his ankles. She laughs softly into his neck as they struggle, clinging tightly to him, and when they roll off the settee and hit the floor, it barely fazes them at all. Matt untangles his legs from his trousers and lifts himself over her, beaming down at her smiling face.

"You're beautiful," he says, and her smile softens. "Alex, I -"

"Don't, darling." She reaches up to stroke his face, her eyes sad. "Don't say it."

His heart lurches but he nods and kisses her instead, slow and meaningful, telling her without words. Alex tilts her hips in a silent plea and he pulls back to watch her face as he presses inside. Her eyes never leave his face and as he sinks slowly inside her, her gaze darkens and her full mouth drops open with a breathy gasp, her sex parting and stretching deliciously for him. Matt grits his teeth, trying to be gentle at first, and his efforts are rewarded. Alex barely winces as he fills her, only clutches at his arms and rocks her hips to take him in.

He presses her into the floor and the carpet beneath them scratches uncomfortably at his knees and chafes at Alex's skin as he thrusts, but he doesn't think she even notices. He doesn't give her a chance to notice, distracting her with deep kisses and long fingers stroking her sensitive nipples. He's dimly aware of the room shaking but at first, he thinks it's all in his head. Only Alex could make him feel like the world is actually moving with them. It's only when he hears a continuous, dull thud that he finally glances out of the corner of his eye and sees books flying off the shelves on the other side of the wall. Belatedly, he feels his magic humming under his skin; sparking and sputtering at his fingertips everywhere he touches Alex.

"Kingston -"

"Ignore it," she breathes, and he nods hurriedly, kissing her. Her tongue slides against his, licks along his teeth, and he groans, his fingers biting into her hips. Over the blood rushing in his ears and the sound of skin slapping against skin, he hears glass shatter but Alex holds him tighter and he suddenly doesn't care enough to look.

Her legs wrap around his waist and her fingernails scratch down his back, but the mild sting is nothing compared to finally having her here beneath him. Weeks of quietly, desperately craving his magical tutor and now she's clinging tightly to him and moaning his name every time his abdomen rubs against her clit. She's absolutely perfect – mad and brilliant and dangerous. He cannot let her slip through his fingers now – not for his family, not for Daisy, not for anyone. He knows now what it's like to have Alexandra Kingston and nothing else will sustain him.

Along with the tingle of his impending release – dancing at his spine and drawing his muscles taut

– his magic thrums in his veins, rushing all through him like a tidal wave, like it's chasing something. Home, he thinks, and for the life of him, he doesn't know why. His magic is searching for home – as if belongs somewhere else as well as inside him. He struggles to keep a tight hold on it as Alex writhes beneath him, ivory skin slick with sweat and her breath hot against his ear.

He threads his fingers through her hair, strokes her face, whispers that she has ruined him and he has never been so happy to be destroyed. Alex sobs, her thighs tightening around him, and when he reaches between her legs to stroke her with long fingers, she buries her face in his neck and comes. As Matt follows right behind her, his nose in her curls and her scent all around him, he feels his tenuous grip on his magic slip. Instead of only inside him, under his skin, he can sense his magic all around him. He feels it twining with another presence – something ancient and wild.

Alex's magic, he realizes just as a bright white light eclipses the room around them.

He shuts his eyes to the brilliance, feeling Alex's eyelashes flutter against his throat as she does the same. He curls around her protectively, wondering if he could just stay like this forever, hiding in the light with her. Gradually, the glow fades, the room stops shaking, and he tentatively opens his eyes to peek.

The parlour looks like a warzone – shattered glass littering the floor, books scattered all around, some with pages torn or bindings ripped, a table overturned, a chair on its side, pillows from the settee ripped apart at the seams to spill out feathers that float in the air around them. There are even a few sticking out of Alex's curls. He gapes at the carnage in silence but Alex glances around with amusement, a smirk curling lips he's well acquainted with now.

"Why?" He asks faintly.

"Your magic," she explains, and he suddenly understands why the vase had inexplicably crashed to the floor the first time he kissed her. Her small hands soothe him with gentle, circular motions on his chest until he gives in and collapses beside her in the midst of the wreckage. "I suppose I'll have to start teaching you to control it during sex."

Matt laughs softly, nuzzling into her. "That is a lesson I will gladly pay attention to."

He wakes hours later still on the floor in the parlour and the first thing he notices is that the mess had been cleaned up as he slept. A blanket has been thrown over him but Alex is nowhere to be seen. The house is silent – he can't even hear her singing to her flowers. Sitting up slowly, Matt rakes a hand through his disheveled hair and shoves aside the blanket tangled around his legs.

"Kingston?" He calls out hopefully.

When he doesn't hear a response, he sighs and climbs slowly to his feet. He takes a moment to stretch, still tired and sore, before reaching for the clothes folded neatly on the settee. Even the sight of the settee makes him blush now, thinking of Alex naked and breathless beneath him on it. Face hot, he grins to himself as he dresses, buttoning his waistcoat but not bothering with his shoes or his cravat. He tries to smooth his hair but his fringe keeps flopping into his eyes. He gives it up as a lost cause and pads around the first floor calling for Alex, checking the kitchen, the dining room, and the back garden.

Not finding her anywhere and hoping she would have at least left him a note if she were leaving the house entirely, Matt climbs the stairs to the second floor and calls for her again. He stands on the landing and listens intently, sagging in relief when he hears the unmistakable sound of Alex mumbling to herself somewhere down the corridor. He follows her voice all the way to her library, peering around the doorway nervously.

He's only been inside the library one other time – it's only a little bigger than the size of his bedroom, stuffed full of books and ancient texts that look older than God. In the corner of the room, wrapped in nothing but a dressing gown, her hair wild around her face, Alex sits surrounded by open books, a sheet of paper in her lap, a quill in hand and a strangely desperate expression on her face. He eyes her curiously for a moment, hesitant to interrupt, but the longer he stands there looking at her, the more he notices things like the rumpled state of her hair from his fingers in it, or the fact that she probably doesn't have anything on beneath that dressing gown. He finds his eyes wandering to the gaping neckline and swallows hard, wondering if he'll ever get the

chance to press his hands and his mouth to all that bare skin ever again.

"Alex?"

She glances up in wide-eyed alarm, her quill frozen above the page in front of her. "You're awake."

"Clearly." He waves awkwardly from his spot in the doorway and instantly feels like an idiot. "Hello."

Alex turns a little pink and averts her eyes. "Hello… I'm sorry I left you. I had to attend to a few things in here."

"No, it's perfectly fine," he mumbles, hating this new awkwardness between them. "Thank you for the blanket."

She nods once, biting her lip. "I don't believe I'll be dining downstairs tonight – I've got far too much to do in here." She waves at the piles of books around her with a negligent hand. "So you're free to do what you like for the remainder of the evening. We'll start your lessons again tomorrow, alright?"

Noting with trepidation that she still won't look at him, Matt begins to fear the worst – that she regrets giving her heart to him so readily and she doesn't know how to politely tell him it's never going to happen again. Too terrified of the truth to question her or even reassure her that he isn't going anywhere, but unable to sit back watch her slip away right before his eyes, Matt pushes away from the doorframe and steps into the library, crossing the room slowly.

Alex doesn't look up but her eyes freeze on the page in front of her and her body tenses as he draws near. Intent on stooping to kiss her, Matt slips his hand beneath her hair and curls his fingers around the back of her neck to pull her close, but the moment his skin touches hers, he feels a crackle of magic energy between them, a strange, humming undercurrent that makes the hair on his arms stand on end. He jerks his hand back quickly, a startled gasp in his throat. "What the hell -"

"It's nothing," Alex says quickly, tense but clearly not as surprised as he is. "Just your magic reacting to mine."

He shakes his hand with a frown, flexing his fingers and wondering when they'll stop tingling. "It never did that before."

Alex arches an eyebrow but still doesn't look up from her book. "Well, we'd never been intimate before, had we?"

"Right. Of course." He flushes, shoving his hand into his trouser pocket. "So does that always happen between magical people who have been… intimate?"

After a lengthy pause, Alex admits quietly, "No."

His lips twitch in a smile and he reaches out again, his hand hovering over her mass of curls, and if he truly concentrates, he can feel their combined magic sizzling under his skin. "We're special then?"

Finally, Alex glances up with a soft smile and he instantly notices the red mark he'd sucked into the hollow of her throat hours before. "Something like that."

Grinning now, he trails a hand over her face tenderly and the odd current between them isn't quite so startling now that he's expecting it. "To be quite honest, Kingston, the only way I want to spend my evening is in your company but I'll leave you to whatever it is you're doing." He swipes his thumb carefully over the soft, delicate skin beneath her eye and watches her bite her lip. "Just don't spend all night in here, all right? Being terrifyingly powerful doesn't exclude you from the need to rest, you know."

"I won't be long," she promises, and turns back to her notes and books, as if he'd already left the room.

With a sigh, Matt leaves her to it and walks to his chambers, wondering if she's avoiding him because she's genuinely caught up in whatever she's doing or she already regrets what happened between them. Desperately hoping for the former, he uses a pitcher of water and a cloth to rid himself of all the evidence of what happened in the parlour earlier, snorting a little to himself when he peers into a looking glass and finds a feather from a pillow still nesting in his hair.

After a change of clothes, he eats dinner alone in the dining room, picking listlessly at his food. When he's through, he still hasn't seen or heard Alex so he decides to try mastering his earlier lesson without her – he really doesn't want to try lighting candles around her again. The last time had been mortifying enough. Without her around to distract him, it only takes two tries before he

gets it and he leaves the lit candelabra in the middle of the dining table, hoping that if Alex ventures downstairs, she'll be delighted with his progress.

He takes a turn about the back garden on his own after that, achingly bored and missing Alex's company. He wants to hold her and talk to her about what happened between them; he wants to reassure her that it hadn't been a mistake but rather the best decision he's ever made. He'd been so mortified that his parents had to send their talentless son away to a magic tutor but what if they hadn't? He would never have known Alex or felt what it was to be truly in love. She makes him grateful he'd been so rubbish at magic.

When it's too dark to walk around the garden anymore and he lacks anything else to do but torture Moffat with a ball of yarn – the cat is even grumpier than usual for some reason and Matt winds up with a rather nasty scratch on his hand – he decides to go to bed early and hope things look better tomorrow.

Not bothering to light a candle with his newly found skill, he undresses in the dark and falls into bed, curling up into a ball and shutting his eyes resolutely. Sleep doesn't come easily and he spends hours tossing and turning, his mind constantly on Alex, before the object of his thoughts opens his door and slips into his room.

He says nothing, watching in silence as she pauses by his bed to slip off her dressing gown, realizing he'd been right when he'd imagined nothing beneath it earlier. She raises his blankets and climbs in beside him, instantly curling her body around his and pressing warm, bare skin against his own. He holds her close, sliding a hand up and down the smooth expanse of her back and burying his face in her hair. He feels the tension slipping from his frame slowly merely because she's near, and knows there is no going back. He's quite hopeless for her.

Pressing his lips to her temple, he asks sleepily, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I don't know," she replies softly, and holds him a little tighter.

her fast-luck oil and her magic stones

Chapter Summary

As an unspoken rule, they never talk of the future or what will happen once Matt's time here is at an end and returning home can no longer be delayed. Instead, they live only in the moment.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Medicine by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals

Over the next week, they manage to establish a kind of routine, or at least as close to one as possible for two people such as themselves – a wealthy young bachelor promised to another and the older tutor he's fallen madly in love with. As an unspoken rule, they never talk of the future or what will happen once Matt's time here is at an end and returning home can no longer be delayed. Instead, they live only in the moment.

Alex continues to teach him magic during the day – though her lessons have become a little unorthodox, considering she rewards him with kisses now instead of just her praise. At night, she falls into bed with him, her smile luminous and her touch gentle as she teaches him how to control his magic when his emotions are high and desire is the only thing on his mind. He makes love to her every night, his fingertips sparking with light everywhere he touches her, and in the morning, he wakes to an empty bed.

This morning is no different and when Matt opens his eyes to the sight of cold sheets, he sighs in resignation and pulls himself out of bed to dress. He walks into the kitchen downstairs still straightening his collar and finds Alex just where she usually is in the mornings recently – standing over a small, boiling pot and frowning. Slipping an arm around her waist from behind, he presses his lips into her hair and murmurs, "One day, I shall wake up and you will still be sleeping next to me."

She tenses for only a moment before turning to glance at him over her shoulder, brushing her mouth against his jaw. "I'm an early riser, darling. Here, try this -" She holds a spoon up to his mouth and he sighs. This, too, has become a part of their routine – Alex experimenting with strange potions she never tells him the purpose of and then expecting him to test them for her. It's a testament to just how much he trusts her that he never questions what she gives him.

He wrinkles his nose. "I haven't even eaten breakfast yet and you want to force your strange

concoctions on me?"

She bites her lip. "Please?"

It isn't so much the word please as the tone in which she says it – pleading and soft, a bit like how she sounds when he has her pinned beneath him in his bed. Helpless to resist, Matt opens his mouth obediently and drinks her potion. It doesn't really have a flavor but it leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He makes a face and Alex watches him anxiously. "Sour," he explains, and she relaxes. "Did it work?"

Taking his face in her hands, Alex yanks his mouth down to hers and kisses him thoroughly, her tongue plundering his mouth to sweep away all traces of bitterness and leaving the sweetness of her instead. His skin hums at her touch and he feels that familiar crackling undercurrent between them as he groans and pulls her closer. Letting go and stepping back breathlessly, Alex looks at once disappointed and relieved as she says, "No, it didn't."

"I have faith you'll succeed eventually." He laughs softly, leaning in to kiss her again. "Now, what have you got for me today, Kingston?"

She hums thoughtfully and he relishes the way she leans into him, her small hands on his chest. "I thought perhaps it might be a good idea for you to become a bit friendlier with Moffat."

"What? No," he whinges, holding her to him tightly and dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "That isn't a magic lesson!"

"If you can get him to like you, it will be magic enough for one day, darling." She pets his hair, and though he can't see her face, he just knows she's laughing at him.

He lifts his head from her perfumed shoulder and frowns. "But he hates me, Kingston."

"He does not hate you, don't be ridiculous!" Alex shakes her head at him, turning on her heel and walking out of the kitchen, obviously expecting him to follow her. Which he does, of course, just as he always shall. "It takes him a while to warm up to strangers, that's all."

They find Moffat in the garden, lounging in the middle of Alex's flowers. Alex approaches him at a normal pace but Matt lingers behind her warily, eyeing the black cat with suspicion. Kneeling in the grass next to her companion and scratching his ears, Alex glances back at him with a sigh,

motioning him forward. "Well you can't get him to like you from all the way over there, darling. Come along, I won't let the bad kitty frighten you."

He glowers half-heartedly, charmed as ever by her grin, and walks cautiously toward them, sinking to his knees on the ground next to her. Instantly, Moffat tenses, hissing. Matt scrambles back hastily, pointing an accusatory finger at the animal. "See? He loathes me, Kingston."

"You startled him," she amends, stroking Moffat's fur soothingly. "Imagine such a small creature seeing you bumbling over here with all those gangly limbs – I'd be frightened too."

"Kingston!"

She giggles. "I'm sorry, darling. Give me your hand." Without waiting for him to offer it, she wraps her fingers around his own and pulls his hand slowly toward Moffat. "Just be gentle." The moment she presses his hand to Moffat's back, the cat yowls angrily, ears twitching, and Matt yanks his hand from Alex's, cradling it to his chest protectively. "Moffat! You're being rude."

"It's no use, Alex -"

"Nonsense. There's no reason he shouldn't like you." She furrows her brow and studies her cat, lips pursed. She looks angry with her beloved companion on his behalf and Matt feels his chest swell with affection as he looks at her. "You're sweet and charming and talented and you never step on his tail!"

Chuckling softly, he recaptures her hand and presses his lips to her knuckles. "He doesn't have to like me, you know. He's just a tetchy old cat."

"I know," she says lightly, glancing away to frown at Moffat. "It's just… I don't really have any family or friends to speak of – except for an old cat who always keeps me company. You're the first man I've – you're import – " She huffs, bunching the skirt of her dress in her little fist. "It would mean a great deal to me if you two would learn to get along, that's all."

Heart in his mouth, Matt tightens his grip on her fingers and kisses them softly, one by one. "Why don't you go fetch some treats from that tin in the kitchen, then? I'll see if he'll take a shine to me once I've got food."

Brightening, Alex lifts her eyes hopefully to his, a reluctant smile curling the corners of her lovely mouth. "Really?"

He nods and relinquishes her hand with one last press of his lips to her palm, settling back on the grass next to Moffat, who swishes his tail impolitely against Matt's leg. "We'll manage until you get back."

Standing slowly, Alex dusts off her dress and looks down at them sternly. "Alright, but don't draw blood while I'm gone."

He gapes at her. "You think I'd harm your cat?"

"Of course not." She laughs. "I was talking to Moffat."

As she turns on her heel and walks back toward the house, Matt grimaces and scoots a little further away from the cat eyeing him irritably. The moment Alex disappears inside the house, he sits up from his slouched position in the grass and glares down at the black ball of fur next to him. "All right, I know I'm always telling her she's mad for speaking to you like you can actually understand her but I'm going to try it anyway – just in case. I know you have your strange, cat-like reasons for not liking me, and I respect that, just as I hope you respect that I find you have the personality of an ill-mannered codger from Scotland."

Moffat bares his teeth in a silent hiss of disapproval.

Unfazed, Matt stares him down. "But we do have one thing in common." He jerks his thumb in the direction of the house, his expression instantly softer as he thinks of the woman inside. "We both love that mad, ridiculous woman very much and we want her to be happy. I'm not going to hurt her, if that's what you think."

Blinking at him, Moffat tilts his head to the side, apparently listening.

Feeling like a man on trial, Matt licks his lips and continues softly, "I can't marry Daisy, not now. I just have to convince Alex, when the time comes, that my place is here with her now. The money, the social standing, none of it matters anymore – not when I have her." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Since I don't plan on going anywhere in the near future, I think it's best that we learn to get along, don't you?"

Moffat's ear twitches and he yawns, looking disinterested.

"Please?"

He's begging a cat – actually, genuinely begging a cat. What has Alexandra Kingston done to his life?

"It's important to her, Moffat. Do it for Alex."

After a tense moment of silence in which Matt has a stare down with a cat, Moffat finally drops his eyes, paws primly at his face, and then climbs lithely to his feet. He clambers onto Matt's lap, curls up there like he owns the space, and blinks up at him, as if to say well get on with it, then.

Grinning widely, Matt reaches down and scratches behind his ear, laughing softly when Moffat begins to purr. By the time Alex comes back out with a handful of treats they don't need anymore, Matt is sprawled on his back in the grass with Moffat on his stomach. Alex looks delighted at the change, dropping down beside them with a beaming smile and scooping up Moffat, cuddling him to her chest.

"What on earth happened while I was gone?"

Hands folded beneath his head as a pillow, Matt watches them both with a smile and says, "I just talked to him. And I think you're right, Kingston…" He reaches out a hand and squeezes her knee though her dress. "He does understand."

"Of course he does – you just never bothered talking to him before." Laughing, Alex lies back in the grass with Moffat and curls around him, tucking a leg between his. Matt removes his hands from behind his head and wraps his arms around her, dragging her close and pressing his lips to her cheek in a smacking kiss.

"You've made me as mad as you are," he says softly.

Alex grins, the apple of her cheek rounding beneath his lips. "You love it, darling."

He really, really does.

"Try this one."

"Alex -"

"Darling, we have this argument every day. It would save so much time if you would relent now rather than later."

With a sigh, Matt opens his mouth and downs her latest experimental potion. "What happens if you turn me into a newt?"

"I would know how to change you back." She winks, studying him closely. "How do you feel?"

He looks down at her, in one of her simpler gowns today, her feet bare as ever, her curls piled messily on top of her head, and a few stray wisps springing around her flushed face. Grinning, he settles his hands on her hips and backs her into the nearest solid surface, which happens to be a wall. "I feel like ravishing you."

Alex tilts her face up to accept his kiss, and he can't contain a shudder at the tingly undercurrent of magic that thrums and crackles between them. "Ravishing later," she breathes, pushing him gently away. "I'm teaching you wordless magic today."

Bordering on giddy after that, Matt gulps down his lunch and drags Alex outside with him, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stands in the middle of the yard. He's been pestering her about learning wordless magic since he mastered conjuration but she always insists it isn't the right time – until now. He sits obediently in the grass, looking up at Alex and watching her transform before his eyes into what he likes to call her tutor mentality. Her whole demeanor changes as she paces in front of him, no sly smirks or flirtatious winks, her brow furrowed adorably as she tries to find a way to explain wordless magic to him. He loves her like this – just as he loves her every other way, really – solemn and businesslike, determined to teach him something new.

"Most people never learn wordless magic for a reason," she finally says, glancing at him to make sure he's listening. When she sees him staring up at her raptly, eyes fastened on her and gaze fascinated and a bit besotted, she flushes and shakes her head, turning away. "It's complicated and it requires an immense amount of focus. To perform magic without vocal incantations, you're

going to have to draw upon our magic at the same time as you're thinking of the spell you need, and the outcome you want. Multi-tasking all of these things at once often results in either utter failure or disaster, so I need you at your best today, Matt."

When she whirls to fix him with a pointed look, he pouts. "You can't keep using the candelabra incident against me, Kingston. It wasn't my fault – you were being very distracting!"

She huffs. "I wasn't doing anything at all."

"You never have to," he says loftily, smirking up at her when she frowns. "But we don't have to worry about that anymore – that was before I could do this –" He reaches out a hand, yanks at the hem of her skirt and sends her stumbling forward, landing right on top of him. Her knees manage to avoid hitting him anywhere particularly sensitive but Alex looks incensed, eyes wide with shock as she stares down at him, straddling his waist. Pleased with himself, Matt takes her face in his hands, pulls her head down to his and kisses her. His lips tingle pleasantly and his skin sizzles with golden magic, and he shudders as he lets his mind wander to their nights and the way his whole body thrums when her naked skin is pressed against his. The magic between them is palpable when he makes love to her; he can taste it in her kiss and in the slickness of her arousal between her thighs. Groaning softly at the memory, Matt tightens his arms around her and sucks at her bottom lip, shifting restlessly beneath her.

Alex indulges him for only a moment before reluctantly tearing herself away, flushed and trembling as she rises to her feet and walks right over him, her skirts trailing over his face. Wiping delicately at her mouth, she clears her throat and glares down at him. "That is exactly the lack of focus that I'm referring to."

He pouts, sitting up to run a hand through his hair as he mumbles, "Your fault." When she doesn't offer a retort, he lifts his head from the ground and frowns at her back. "Alex? What's wrong?"

"Darling, we don't have much time left." She wrings her hands and avoids his gaze, her eyes far away and sad. "You can't hide from your obligations here forever and as much as I would love to spend our remaining time locked away in my chambers, I need to know when you leave that I've taught you everything that I could."

It's the first time she's brought up the subject of his upcoming nuptials in a long time, breaking the unspoken rule of avoiding it at all costs. Startled, Matt stares at her for a moment, watching her look everywhere but at him. "Alex, I'm not leaving-"

"I never expected you to stay," she says, turning her face into the cool summer breeze and letting it brush her hair from her shoulders, wild curls lifted from her upturned face. "You have a duty,

Matt, and I'm doing what I can to make sure you fulfill it."

He nods slowly, glancing away and swallowing the lump in his throat. "Do you – that is, would you rather I left?"

"Of course not. Don't be daft." She lifts wet green eyes to his, her lovely mouth trembling. "But this isn't about what I want."

He flexes his jaw, eyes burning into hers. "What about what I want?"

"An alliance between your family and the house of Lowe is bigger than our desires, darling." Alex watches him sadly, her arms wrapped almost protectively around her middle. "Your family -

"

"Hang my family," he snaps. "I won't let them control my happiness!"

"And how long do you think you'd be happy here with me?" She asks, her voice tearful as she gestures widely back to the house – covered in ivy and vines, more of a home now than his estate has ever been. "Disowned by your loved ones, scorned by the rest of society, with naught by a madwoman and a cat for company? How long before you resented me for ruining your life?"

"Stop it, Alex." He reaches for her wrist, wrapping his fingers tightly around it and pulling her close as she struggles. "Don't presume to know how I'm going to feel. You're the one terrified of what might happen if I stay. I know beyond any shadow of a doubt that I would be happy here with you for the rest of my days."

Alex stops struggling and stares at him, lips parted and eyes wide. She stands frozen in his grasp, motionless – he doesn't even think she's breathing. "You think I'm terrified?"

"I know you are," he says softly. "And it's alright to be afraid, but not when it means pushing me away."

"I'm not afraid," she snaps, and wrenches her arm from his grasp. "I'm trying to give you a choice!"

"I've made my choice!" He shouts, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "What do you think I'm doing right now? I'm choosing you, Alex."

She shakes her head, her eyes bright with tears and a delicate hand over her mouth. "No, you're not," she whispers. "You only think you are."

Frustrated and entirely unsure of what the hell she means by that, Matt turns from her and rakes a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to convince you -"

"Stop trying," she says, and her voice sounds stronger now as she tries to compose herself. "Please, darling. Just… let me teach you."

He tries, but focusing is near impossible after their unexpected row. Matt spends hours in the back garden, not speaking a word as he tries to summon and levitate and conjure silently, with little success. Alex says nothing as she hovers on the other side of the yard, offering none of her usual encouragement as she watches him with the air of a wounded, frightened animal. The atmosphere between them is tense, full of things they did and didn't say.

As the afternoon turns to evening, the weather grows colder and the clouds above them darken. Even angry with her, he can't stop stealing glimpses of Alex out of the corner of his eye and he notices her shivering in her thin gown, hiding her hands in the folds of her dress and obviously trying to fight off the chill in the air. Once he notices her discomfort, concentrating on anything else is impossible and he gives up after another ten minutes of struggling to create something in the silence. With a sigh, he stalks over to where she stands beneath her tree and she tenses as he approaches, watching him warily.

"Give them here," he orders softly, and reaches for her hands. They're so small his own dwarf them but he knows how powerful and how capable these hands are, and he holds them reverently between his own, rubbing swiftly in an effort to get the blood circulating to cold fingertips. Alex looks up at him questioningly but doesn't attempt to push him away, watching him through her eyelashes with a look of resignation.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He shakes his head, kissing her fingers as he closes his eyes. He thinks only of wanting to take care of her and make her comfortable, but he feels the very moment his wordless warming spell takes effect, heating soft, delicate skin. Alex huffs out a quiet laugh of surprise and he opens his eyes to grin at her, his lips still pressed to her fingertips. "Better?"

She nods mutely, touching her warm hands to his cheeks tenderly. "Thank you, darling."

"Lesson over?" He looks at her hopefully and when she nods again, he smiles victoriously and bends to scoop her up into his arms, cherishing her startled giggle as she clings to him. He carries her into the house and upstairs to bed, and in keeping with his lesson today, the magic they exchange between the sheets is entirely without speech. They touch one another with warm hands and full hearts, and words would only get in the way.

Matty,

I hope you've learned quite enough magic to satisfy Lord Lowe because I'm writing to tell you preparations are at an end. A date has been set for the ball – exactly one week from now. Mother and Father insist you come home immediately to show us what you've learned and to oversee plans for the wedding.

I know these are not the tidings you wish for, but I really do think everything is going to be just fine. I have spent an inordinate amount of time with Daisy in the last several weeks and she's a sweet girl, dear brother. She is kind and beautiful and will make a lovely, proper wife for you – and a wonderful mother, when the time comes. Do not fret – Mother and Father have chosen your perfect match. Come home and see for yourself.

We've sent Henderson with the carriage.

Your sister,

Laura

"I thought we'd have more time."

Matt bites his lip at Alex's worried tone but can't bring himself to look at her. "We have all the time in the world, Kingston."

"You have to go home."

"I don't have to go anywhere." He lifts his head from his pillow and looks at her stubbornly. "I can simply reply to her letter with a plea for her to send along the rest of my things."

Alex raises her eyes from the letter in question and fixes him with a patient look. "Darling, you know very well that nothing will be simple about breaking your betrothal to the daughter of Bronner Lowe. You must go home but I ask that you please refrain from severing your alliance with Lowe house -" Matt begins to vehemently deny this request but Alex places a gentle hand over his mouth to silence him. "You say now you wish to remain here with me, but you might feel differently once you arrive home and see your family and Daisy again."

"I won't," he says stubbornly.

"Then you must go home anyway to break the news to your family. I'll attend the ball and if by that time, you still truly want to be with me, then we shall tell everyone together, alright?"

He wants to refuse but Alex fixes pleading green eyes on him, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, absolutely enchanting in a white nightgown and her hair streaming down her back in ringlets. She thinks he's going to change his mind, that he's somehow lost the plot living with her and that once he returns home, he'll come to his senses. Determined to prove her wrong, he nods reluctantly. "Fine."

Alex visibly relaxes, breathing out a quiet, "Thank you."

Snatching Laura's letter from her hands and tossing it carelessly in the direction of the nightstand, he crosses the distance between them on the bed and curls around Alex, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips to her throat. She threads her fingers through his hair and as she hums, he feels magic coursing through her fingertips, idly caressing his scalp. "Alex, when I break my betrothal with Daisy, will you -"

"If, darling," she says quietly. "If you break your betrothal, you can ask me anything you want but not until then."

Stubborn, Matt traces the words marry me into the inside of her wrist and his equally stubborn tutor pretends not to notice.

"Moffat is angry with me again."

"Don't be silly. He just hates goodbyes."

"Well this isn't goodbye," he says sternly, reaching for her hand only to be denied as his footman slips between them in the doorway, levitating Matt's trunks out to the waiting carriage. "You'll see me again at the ball, remember? Promise me you'll attend, Kingston." He says it lightheartedly because the footman is still within hearing distance but his eyes are solemn and pleading. "Your absence won't keep me away from you – it will only make me terribly cross when I find you again."

Alex smiles, though it trembles a bit around the edges, and glances uneasily out the door to ensure the location of the footman. The moment she sees that he's too occupied to pay them any mind, she pulls Matt into her arms and plants a searing, hard kiss against his mouth. He feels it right down to his toes and the crackle of magic between them makes him whimper, grasping her tightly to him. "I'll be there, darling," she breathes when they part. "Witch's honor."

Her kiss lingers on his lips for days after.

Leaving Alex behind had been painful. It had ached to part from her and it aches even now, the night before his betrothal to Daisy Lowe is announced to family, friends, and anyone else with enough social standing to merit invitation. Nauseated at the mere prospect of what tomorrow holds, Matt determinedly shuts his eyes and focuses his magic on conjuring another apple – the only physical reminder of Alex he has now that the marks on his skin are beginning to fade. The apple appears in his palm and he curls his fingers around it tightly, opening his eyes once more to look at it. He rubs his thumb over the smooth red surface, remembering her smile when he'd conjured his very first one, the way she'd looked at him as she tasted it.

With a sigh, Matt tosses the apple away into the growing pile at his side and flops onto his back in the grass. The manicured grounds of his estate aren't quite the same as Alex's naturally wild garden – there are no bright flowers or towering trees, and most unfortunately, no barefoot temptress wandering about with a magical voice – but it's better than the stifling walls of the manor. When he first arrived at Alex's home, he only wanted to learn magic as quickly as he could and leave again. Now, he can barely stand to be inside long enough to take his meals with his family. It doesn't feel like home anymore and his heart lies elsewhere.

Bronner Lowe had been more than satisfied with Matt's magic display upon his return. Standing in the man's vast library, Matt had lifted all the books from the shelves with an incantation he didn't

need to use - he hasn't told anyone the ease with which he uses wordless magic now, reluctant to share the power with anyone but Alex - and made them dance about the room and circle Bronner's head. He'd lit all the candles with a flick of his hand and a murmured word. He'd conjured a glass of scotch and handed it to Bronner with a flourish. And at the end of it all, Bronner had laughed with delight and proclaimed him an adequate match for his beloved daughter. Matt could only thank him with a bow and go home to wait.

The only thing keeping him from crawling out of his own skin is knowing that no matter what happens tomorrow, he will be with Alex again. Nothing else seems to be of any consequence – not even the constant, widening ache in his chest.

"I thought I might find you out here."

Matt wrinkles his nose at the sound of his sister's voice but says nothing.

The silk of her dress makes a soothing swish noise as it trails against the grass. "You never liked spending so much time out of doors before – in fact, I distinctly remember you saying nature was for the uncivilized."

"Yes well, I was a bit of a tosser."

Laura snorts indelicately. "Such language – Mother would faint."

"Exactly why I didn't say it in front of her," he sighs. "Though I'm sure a mere mention of my imminent betrothal would revive her quite quickly."

Prodding at the pile of apples beside him with one expensively slippered foot, Laura raises an eyebrow but doesn't deign to comment. "You're no longer the shameful son who can't perform magic, Mother and Father are immensely proud of you, and you're going to marry a beautiful girl in an advantageous match. I should think anyone in your position would be exceedingly giddy."

Matt grunts in acknowledgement.

"But you've been morose, verging on depressed, ever since your return from merry London, dear brother." In one graceful movement, Laura sinks onto the grass next to him, arranging her dress around her with gloved hands. Satisfied, she fixes him with a probing look, those sharp, defined features all the more intimidating as she scrutinizes him for a weakness. "In fact, I'd say you

were… pining."

He averts his gaze to the sky above him, determined not to give himself away.

Undeterred, Laura picks up an apple and admires it silently. "What I don't understand is what you could possibly have to pine over – surely you don't miss London smog and filthy streets, having lessons with a tutor every day, or living in such small rooms. You can't possibly miss the magic because you're just as free to practice here as you had been there." Brown eyes narrowing, Laura drops the apple and tucks shiny chestnut hair behind her ears. "Therefore, you must be missing a person."

Refusing to meet her gaze, Matt shrugs noncommittally.

"Did you meet a pretty young Londoner then?" She prods at his side with the tip of her finger. "Your eyes met across a crowded, grimy street and now you're hopelessly in love with a poor city-dweller?"

He finally looks at his sister, glowering. "I didn't go out much."

She smirks. "Alright, who then? Did your tutor employ a maid that you fancied?"

"Alex doesn't have servants – she likes doing things herself."

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Matt cringes and wants to shove them back in again. Laura's eyes light up and her grin of triumph is terrifying. "Oh, so just you and Alex in that big old house then? How cozy."

He flushes and mumbles, "Shove off, Lor."

She laughs, clearly delighted. "You are pining for your tutor! That is the most scandalous thing I've heard in weeks – and that includes Sarah Rutledge taking a carriage ride with Leonard Boothe without a chaperone."

"I'm not pining," he snaps, and then softens, rubbing a hand over his aching chest. "I just miss her."

Sobering instantly, Laura reaches out a gloved hand and clasps his. "Matty, it's perfectly normal to form some sort of infatuation with a woman you spent so much time with -"

"It's not infatuation," he interrupts, scowling.

Laura raises a prompting eyebrow, clearly not going to give up any time soon.

He sighs, drooping back against the grass in defeat. "I'm in love with her, Lor."

He doesn't look at his sister but he can sense her eyes on him for a long moment before she finally speaks, her voice quiet and solemn – full of pity. "Does she know?"

He swallows painfully. "Yes. I never said but…" All that time spent with her and she never let him say it. It's the first thing he's going to say when this is all over and she's in his arms again. "And I believe she loves me in return, but she insists I should marry Daisy."

"Then at least one of you is being sensible." Laura sighs. "What were you thinking, Matt? Carrying on an affair with your tutor? For god's sake, Mother and Father sent you there to learn magic, not to sully your reputation and hers. You're betrothed to Daisy and tomorrow all of society is going to know it. You have to put Alex behind you."

He clenches his jaw. "And if I can't do that?"

"Then your marriage will be a unhappy one."

"And if I don't marry Daisy?"

Laura inhales sharply, brown eyes wide. "Matthew Smith, what are you talking of? Have you completely taken leave of your senses?" She hisses, glancing around quickly as if their parents might have heard. "I am sorry that you fell in love but you cannot break your betrothal. Do you have any idea what that would do to your reputation? To Daisy's?"

"I know, alright? I know. But I can't marry her, Lor." He runs his fingers through his hair, turning his cheek into the grass and letting it tickle his skin. "A lifetime away from the woman I love, bound to another that I don't? It would kill me."

"You could learn to love Daisy, if you would just try -"

"I don't want to learn to love her, Lor. I already love someone else and I can't just forget her or her laugh or the way her hair felt around my fingers or that I'm the only one she's ever let so close -" He swallows hard, looking at his sister imploringly. "What if you met James and fell in love, but you were promised to another man? Could you just forget him? Forget how much he made you laugh or how it felt to be in his arms?"

Laura bites her lip, wavering. "No, I don't believe I could."

Nodding, he sits up and loops his arms around his knees, prompting, "Would you care what anyone else thought of you if it meant being with him?"

Clearly reluctant but unable to lie to him, Laura sighs and turns her gaze elsewhere as she says, "I believe that nothing in the world could keep me from James, not even the shame of being the subject of ridicule – or heaven forbid, Mother and Father."

Matt smiles. "Then why are you trying to be so bloody sensible?"

She scowls at him, tugging at her gloves. "Because I'm your older sister and I'm supposed to make sure you do the honorable thing."

"There is nothing honorable in condemning myself and Daisy to a life of misery together," he reasons. "So when I see Alex tomorrow, I ask you to -"

Laura holds up a hand, looking troubled. "She's making an appearance tomorrow night? Lord Lowe did invite her, of course, because of her station but why on earth would she attend a ball announcing your betrothal if she loves you?"

Matt lifts his chin stubbornly, leveling his gaze with his sister's. "I made her promise to come."

"Of course you did." She shakes her head, lifting one gloved hand to massage her temple.

"Stop being dramatic and promise me you'll distract Mother and Father when she arrives," he presses. "I'll need a moment alone with her before the announcement and quite honestly, I don't know if I'll be able to contain myself when I see her, propriety be damned."

Laura wrinkles her nose. "If she actually does make an appearance, I will do what I can to help but don't get your hopes up. Alex sounds like a sensible woman – I'm sure she'll want to stay away and make this easier for both of you by doing the right thing."

"Then I'll break my betrothal alone and find her." He presses one hand to the dull pain in his chest, using the other to conjure another apple and toss it onto his sister's lap. She picks it up, still watching him with concern, and he offers her a thin, hopeful smile. "She'll be there, Lor. You'll see."

that old black magic called love

Chapter Summary

A simultaneous murmur travels through the crowded ballroom, quiet gasps and whispers rippling like a pebble has been dropped into a pond. Matt glances up sharply, his heart in his throat, and his gaze is instantly drawn to the other side of the room, where the pebble in question stands in the entryway.

Chapter Notes

Story title from the Frank Sinatra song.

"Doesn't Daisy look lovely tonight, Matt?"

"Hmm," he answers absentmindedly, his eyes searching the crowd for someone else. James is stationed by the door in hopes that he'll be able to escort Alex to Matt the minute she arrives, while Laura has been wandering through Bronner Lowe's vast ballroom for an hour, pretending to socialize while secretly keeping an eye out for Alex in case she manages to slip by James unnoticed. It's been a team effort tonight and Matt is in his sister's debt for a good two months at least, but so far, no one has seen Alex.

Sensing his distraction and mistaking it for something else, his mother lays a comforting hand on his arm. "Don't be nervous, dear. This will be such a sensible, happy match and Bronner is already quite fond of you. I've no doubt he'll want you and Daisy to remain here after you're married. Won't that be lovely? This estate is larger even than ours."

Silently apologizing for the imminent crash of all his mother's hopes and dreams, Matt pats her hand and offers a wan smile. "It's a very fine estate, Mother."

She smiles, relaxing a little at his agreement. "I'm going to look for your father – no doubt eating all of the hors d'oeuvres, ridiculous man. Don't wander off, it's almost time for the announcement and you'll have to stand up there with Daisy and her parents. Oh dear, please try to do something about your hair before then. It makes you look like such a young boy, Matthew."

With one final pat to his cheek, his mother wanders off through the crowded ballroom and Matt releases a quiet breath through his nose, his stomach somersaulting as doubt and worry begin to

creep in. If Alex doesn't arrive soon, he's going to have to break his betrothal alone in front of all these people. He'll do it, of course, because marrying Daisy isn't an option, but the idea of facing the outrage and scrutiny without Alex by his side is daunting. He takes another steadying breath and discreetly wipes his sweaty palms on his trousers.

"You look like you could use a drink." He turns his head with a small smile and sees his sister at his side, wearing a light pink gown and a cheeky grin as she holds up two flutes of champagne. "Though I'm fully aware you're capable of getting one for yourself without moving or opening your mouth." She raises an eyebrow. "Don't think I haven't noticed all the wordless magic you've been performing. You're not as subtle as you'd like to be, little brother."

He winces. "Lor -"

She holds up a hand and says primly, "None of my business."

Sighing, he eyes her fondly. "Have I ever told you that you're my favorite?"

She nudges him affectionately and surveys the room as she sips at her drink. Matt gulps most of his hastily, and the tiny bubbles tickle his nose and the back of his throat. He coughs, sticking out his tongue at the dry, sweet taste while Laura rolls her eyes beside him.

"I've been thinking," she says slowly, and he smiles when he realizes her eyes are still sweeping the room for Alex. "And I've decided you're mad if you think Mother and Father are going to be angry that you want to marry Alexandra Kingston. She would be an even better alliance than Lord Lowe and increase their social standing tenfold. She's the most powerful witch in the country – they'll be positively ecstatic." She glances at him with a sly grin. "They'll take out a whole page in the society column just to gloat. So perhaps you shouldn't worry quite so much."

With a quiet snort of laughter and the dread in his belly suddenly dissipating at her light-hearted attempt to soothe him, Matt opens his mouth to reply only to be interrupted by the simultaneous murmur that travels through the crowded ballroom, quiet gasps and whispers rippling like a pebble has been dropped into a pond. Matt glances up sharply, his heart in his throat, and his gaze is instantly drawn to the other side of the room, where the pebble in question stands in the entryway.

She looks utterly resplendent in a rich red dress of silk velvet, the beaded bodice catching the candlelight beautifully. Her curls have been somewhat tamed, clipped away from her face but still spilling over her shoulders in neat, shiny spirals. Alex is already looking back at him, as if she'd known exactly where he would be, and the moment their eyes lock, Matt feels that constant ache of longing in his chest disappear, soothed by her presence. She tilts her head, red lips curled into a small smile, and winks at him.

Matt doesn't realize how widely he's grinning until Laura grips his elbow, her nails digging into his skin even through his jacket as she leans in close and hisses, "Please control that ridiculous expression on your face before everyone in this room knows exactly what you've been up to. Lord, I've never seen anything so blatantly obvious in all my days."

Reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Alex, still smiling, Matt raises his eyebrows at his sister. "I'm no more obvious than every other man in this room gaping at her. Look at her, she's -"

"Coming this way," Laura tightens her grip on his arm. "Take her onto the balcony, no one will see you there and I'll make James stand watch. But please try to be discreet and stop looking so happy."

Ignoring her entirely, Matt leans down and kisses his sister's cheek. "You're rather wonderful, you know."

"Oh, I know," she smiles, smoothing the lapels of his jacket as Alex approaches. "In ten minutes, it'll be time for the announcement so please be prepared, whatever it is you're going to do."

Matt barely listens, too intent on Alex's face as she reaches them, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes sparkling with mirth. "Mr. Smith," she murmurs, curtseying. "How lovely to see you again."

Laura elbows him and Matt blinks hard, flushing as he offers a hasty bow. "Ms. Kingston," he returns, barely containing the glee in his voice as he raises his eyes to hers. "I'm so glad you could make it. This is my sister, Laura. Laura, this is Alexandra Kingston – my favorite tutor in all the world."

Laura curtsies. "Pleased to finally meet you, Ms. Kingston."

"Finally?" Alex raises an amused eyebrow.

Laura grins and whispers lowly, "He's been pining, I'm afraid."

Blushing, Matt offers his sister a dark look and Alex giggles softly behind her gloved hand. Eyes

instantly finding hers again, he drinks in the sight of her as if it's been years rather than a mere week. He longs for nothing but to be alone with her, to touch her in ways that would appall everyone in this room. Gaze burning into hers as Alex regards him slyly, Matt extends a hand and asks silkily, "Would you care to dance, Ms. Kingston?"

Alex accepts his hand with a demure, "I'd be delighted."

With a final wink at his sister, Matt sweeps Alex onto the crowded dance floor. Without a word and her hand warm in his, he leads her to the end of the room nearest the balcony, as if they're going to join the dance but during the exchange, when the dancers block them from view of the rest of the ballroom, Matt yanks Alex with him past the heavy drapes and onto the balcony.

Safe from prying eyes, he wastes no time, taking her face in his hands and drawing her close, his mouth covering hers in a hard, desperate kiss. Alex makes a muffled noise of surprise but doesn't hesitate to kiss him back, her arms sliding around his slender frame, pressing warm, magnificent curves against him. She tastes like lavender and the heady, bubbly aftertaste of champagne, and Matt whimpers, gripping her hips tightly. The spark between them is just as thrilling as ever, that undercurrent of fire and magic tingling up his spine and racing through his veins. The air around them glows golden and he wonders briefly if everyone inside the ballroom will notice even through the drapes and come to investigate.

"Missed you," he gasps against her throat, walking her slowly toward the balcony railing and pinning her against it. "Every single second I was away from you actually ached, Kingston."

Alex tugs her fingers through his hair, whinging softly, and he can't contain the urge to kiss her again. Her kiss-bruised lips are soft and eager beneath his and he licks at them with a groan, seeking entrance that she grants readily. His wandering hands slide over the beaded bodice of her dress, brushing the soft swell of her breasts before moving down again, tangling her skirts in his fingers. Her hands grip the lapel of his jacket as he plunders her mouth but his drag up her skirts and petticoats and chemise up her legs until he finds the mouth-watering heat between her thighs. He sighs into her mouth as his fingers touch hot, slick flesh and Alex shudders in his arms, pulling her mouth away from his to look up at him with glittering eyes.

"You've made your choice then?" She asks, breathing hard.

Mouth caressing her jaw lightly, he slips a finger inside her and groans when he feels her body react with a faint spasm, muscles rippling around the invasion. "I made my choice the first time I kissed you, Kingston, and distance has only confirmed what I already knew. There is no one else on earth for me but you."

She smiles, lifting a trembling hand to stroke his face. "Not anymore, at least. We're for each other now, darling, and there isn't a damn thing we can do about it."

Before he can ask what she means by that, the music in the ballroom stops and he hears Bronner Lowe begin his speech and the boisterous murmur of the hushed crowd. Stomach turning over with dread, he glances pleadingly at Alex, sliding his hand out from between her legs and helping her straighten her gown and petticoats. "Please tell me you have some sort of plan."

"Of course I do," she smirks. "Now just play along and wear this." She reaches into the bosom of her dress and pulls out a long chain with a talisman on the end. It looks like a crest of some sort, elaborate and jeweled. Without waiting for him to take it, she slips it over his head and presses her lips to his jaw. "You're mine now."

"I always have been," he promises, and places a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

She smiles, flushing adorably. "Go on, then. I'll save you, darling."

Matt steps out from behind the curtain just as Bronner humorously asks after the whereabouts of his soon-to-be son-in-law. He raises a hand as he winds his way through the crowd, making his way toward the front of the room where Bronner stands with his wife and Daisy, who looks just as nervous as Matt feels. She really does look lovely, her ivory gown made of silk, and jewels artfully arranged in her chestnut hair. If he'd never met Alex, he might have learned to love this girl, but looking at her now, it's easy to see she is just as reluctant to enter into this union as he is and he can't help but wonder if there is someone else she would rather be with too. He hopes so – the last thing he wants to do is cause Daisy any kind of humiliation or pain. None of this is her fault.

"There you are," Bronner smiles, gesturing him forward with his champagne glass. "Come here, my boy. I'd like to make a toast."

As he reaches them, forcing a friendly smile in return, Bronner extends an arm toward him but stops suddenly. His gaze falls to Matt's chest and the necklace resting there, shock registering in his gaze. Instead of draping a friendly arm over Matt's shoulders and welcoming him forward, he grabs for the necklace, yanking Matt forward in the process. He tries to lean away from him, uncomfortable with being quite so near the man, but Bronner refuses to release him, his eyes growing wide as he studies the necklace.

After a long moment of tense silence, his face turns red and thunderous. He drops the necklace back to Matt's chest as though it's a snake that might bite him. Looking to the room at large, he calls out in a booming voice that shakes, "Alexandra Kingston, what is the meaning of this?"

Matt glances uneasily over his shoulder, wondering what exactly Alex had just forced him to wear into the lion's den. His eyes are drawn to the back of the room, where the heavy drapes rustle as she steps off the balcony and into the ballroom, her expression unconcerned. She walks coolly through the crowd, the train of her deep red dress trailing behind her as she passes Matt's alarmed parents, and Laura standing with James, both of whom appear to be hiding smiles as they cling to each other.

Stopping just behind Matt, Alex folds her hands in front of her and raises an eyebrow. "You called, milord?"

Bronner glares at her as much as a man can glare at a woman he seems a bit terrified of, gesturing angrily toward Matt. "Why is he wearing your family crest?"

Matt whips his head around to gape at Alex, but she merely blinks calmly at Bronner and says, "Because that's what he is now – my family."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like, I imagine."

With a winning smile directed at the silent crowd watching and listening intently, Bronner steps closer to Alex and hisses, "Don't play games with me, Alexandra. I am more dangerous than you give me credit for. Do you or do you not have a claim on the young man?"

After a tense moment in which Alex scrutinizes Bronner and is scrutinized in return, she murmurs a quiet, "I do."

The crowd behind them gasps and whispers together, wide-eyed as they watch the scene unfold. Matt's mother looks like she might faint but Daisy looks relieved, squeezing her mother's hand tightly, a look of hope on her face. Matt returns his uncomprehending gaze back to Alex, hoping an explanation is coming. A claim? The only claim Alex has on him, as far as he's aware, is his heart – which may be quite substantial to him but he fails to see why it would affect everyone else so strongly.

Pale and clearly furious, Bronner snaps, "We have been planning this union for months, before Mr. Smith ever met you -"

"And yet my claim on him is stronger than yours," Alex points out patiently, throwing Matt a fond, quelling look when he opens his mouth to question her.

He snaps his mouth shut again, closing a hand around the talisman protectively.

Bronner tightens his jaw and stands a little straighter, speaking through his teeth. "Prove it."

A dangerous, smug smile curls Alex's red lips, as if she'd been waiting for those very words and Matt watches her nervously – this confident predator with a razor-edged smile nothing like the beaming, naughty grins of his Alex. She's absolutely terrifying like this but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't secretly a bit thrilled by her. "Matthew," she says without looking at him, fixing her eyes instead on the pale young woman meant to be his betrothed. "Kiss Daisy."

He blanches, turning to her in alarm. "What? I can't -" Her steely-eyed gaze locks on him, red mouth a thin line and blonde ringlets already slipping from her artfully arranged updo. She looks frightening and powerful and completely bloody gorgeous. He swallows hard. "Kingston -"

She softens and he sees his Alex shining through the façade for just a moment. "Please, darling. For me."

Still reluctant, he nods once and approaches Daisy timidly. "Sorry, I -"

"It's alright," she whispers bravely. "Anything to stop this circus."

Matt smiles sadly. "You're not so bad, you know."

"Pardon me, sir," she says, smiling cheekily. "I'm quite wonderful."

Maybe, he thinks, when all of this is over he'll be friends with Daisy Lowe. Laura had been right about her – as she usually always is about everything. With a deep breath and a fair amount of space between their bodies, Matt leans in with the intent of pecking her lips quickly with his own and making a hasty retreat back to Alex's side. He gets close enough to Daisy to feel her breath against his lips but no further before an unseen force sends him sprawling backward, flying through the air and landing several feet away. It all but knocks the breath from his lungs.

Alex is at his side in an instant, small but strong hands helping him back to stand upright before dusting him off. "What was that -" is all he manages to get out before she yanks him down to her and kisses him with enough passion to make his knees weak. Despite their audience and the highly improper circumstances, Matt can't help but melt into her embrace, cradling her face in his hands and sweeping through her mouth with his tongue. He doesn't even hear the shocked uproar of the scandalized crowd, barely notices the way Alex's magic tingles through his veins and the golden light surrounding them so strong in its glow that it nearly blinds onlookers. His world narrows – beginning and ending with Alex.

He feels her satisfied smile against his lips moments before she pulls away, and he blinks at her, in a daze. She turns expectantly to Bronner. "Do you require further proof, milord? I would be happy to provide you with it, but I don't believe Matt feels as favorably about exhibitionism as I do."

Clearly shocked speechless, Bronner stares at her for a long moment, flushed red and humiliated. He seems to understand what just happened – as does everyone else in the room judging by their faces – but instead of satisfied with Alex's explanation, it appears to have only enraged him further. Drawing himself up straight in his tailored, expensive suit, his jaw tight with fury, he takes a menacing step forward and Matt tenses instantly. Voice low and eyes on Alex, he says, "Alexandra Kingston, the mighty and unloved." He laughs and Matt steps in front of Alex, pushing her behind him with a gentle hand. Bronner watches him do it, sardonic smile still in place. "Is that the only way you can manage to find a family of your own, my dear? By trapping them?"

Matt has no idea what is happening or what sort of trap Bronner is referring to but he does know an insult when he hears one. He steps forward with a growl, eyes flashing golden. Caught by surprise, Bronner backs away. A gentle hand on Matt's arm freezes him in place. He blinks the magic haze from his eyes, curling his sparking fingertips into his palms as Alex steps neatly around him, looking bored.

"That's enough, darling." She lifts her chin, eyes level with Bronner's, and the curl of her lip as she stares him down says everything she does not say out loud – she could destroy a cretin like Bronner Lowe without lifting a finger and the man knows it. "You try my patience, milord."

She cocks her head and Bronner visibly flinches.

Excited, shocked whispers rise louder and louder in the cavernous ballroom, echoing off the walls around them. Bronner straightens his greatcoat and clears his throat loudly in an attempt to regain control – as if everyone will forget the most powerful sorcerer in the country has just bested by a woman. As a hush falls over the room, he says clearly enough to be heard by all, "I submit to your claim, Ms. Kingston. I believed you've caused enough disruption for tonight. Now please, take

your leave with your husband."

Husband?

Matt glances around wildly, scowl already in place, before Alex takes his arm in hers and he realizes Bronner had been referring to him. Stunned, he allows Alex to guide him through the crowd, his mind racing. Fingers curling tightly around his forearm, she whispers, "Stay calm until we're in the carriage, darling."

He nods wordlessly, feeling the weight of the last fifteen minutes crashing over him all at once as the adrenaline rush begins to fade. Numb, he clings to Alex's arm and avoids the fascinated gazes of everyone in the room. As he passes Laura, she reaches out a hand and squeezes his shoulder, her smile luminous. "Congratulations. Both of you."

Unsure of how to reply or why everyone seems to know what's happening but him, he nods woodenly and moves on. The ballroom suddenly seems more vast than ever, stretching out before him like eternity itself, and just when he believes they'll never reach the end, Alex leads him through the entryway and out into the corridor.

A man hands her a cloak and mindlessly, Matt helps her into it, clasping the front of it with strangely steady hands. Alex reaches up and wraps her fingers around his, her eyes full of sympathy. "Breathe, darling."

"Breathe?" He finally snaps, confusion and panic finally breaking through the fog. "That miserable excuse for a sorcerer back there just called me your husband, Kingston. I would definitely remember you consenting to marry me!" He yanks his hands from hers and runs them agitatedly through his hair, letting her push him in the direction of the door. "Some bloody magical force field knocked me on my arse when I tried to kiss Daisy -"

With an elegant wave of her hand, Alex silences him. Matt stares at her, outraged, but no sound escapes his lips. Oh, he hates it when she does this. She never did teach him how to counter her silencing spells.

"Breathe," she says again. "And get in the carriage."

She ushers him toward it and he stumbles in his haste to climb inside. She steps in after him; the train of her dress folded over her arm, and the moment she's settled, the footman shuts the door behind them. As the carriage starts to roll away from the Lowe estate and down the long drive, she

leans back in her seat and eyes him cautiously. "Now, can you keep quiet without the help of magic?"

With a resentful glare, he nods.

She waves her hand again and just because he can now, he snaps, "Explain."

"Do you remember the first time we were ever intimate?" She asks softly, green eyes darting away from his face and back again. "When this white light encompassed the whole room and we had to shut our eyes?"

He nods again warily.

Alex purses her lips, glancing out the carriage window as the darkened shapes of trees pass by outside. "That was the sealing of a magical bond, darling."

He stares at her, comprehension dawning. Magical bonds are said to be stronger and more binding than even the institution of marriage. But unlike a marriage ceremony, couples that are bonded become so outside of their own free will. Magical bondings are exceedingly rare, said only to occur between very powerful sorcerers and sorceresses. There hasn't been a legitimate bonding in nearly a hundred years. It happens without warning and as far as anyone knows, there is no way to release the bond once it has been sealed. If he and Alex are magically bonded, then in the eyes of everyone in that ballroom, they are husband and wife.

At his silence, Alex fidgets. "It's quite a strong bond. I've never heard of anything quite like it – even when we touch, it… crackles."

He thinks of the glow when they kiss, the way he can feel his magic twining with hers whenever Alex is near, how when he makes love to her his touches spark against her skin and their magic hums together in his veins like a drug. How did he miss this?

He stares at her, speechless.

Alex forges ahead nervously. "We can't even be away from each other without the bond causing us pain." She places a hand over her heart and smiles sadly. "It wasn't in your head, darling. It really did hurt to be parted from me, just as I hurt to be away from you. I thought perhaps once you left me, the bond might weaken with distance and you would be free to marry Daisy if you

wished but the moment you were far enough away, my heart hurt and I knew… you couldn't ever be with anyone else. The bond won't allow it."

Which explains why the bond had thrown him backwards when he tried to kiss Daisy. Remembering that he'd also kissed his mother and sister on the cheek, he idly wonders if the bond recognizes family members or intent.

"Matt, darling." Alex prods at him without touching him at all, her magic caressing his face. "Say something."

He deflects her touch with his own magic and shakes his head. "It's my fault."

Dumbfounded, Alex blinks at him. "What on earth led you to such a conclusion?"

He swallows. "You said it's a strong bond and we both know why – it was forged through my emotions. The more I feel, the stronger my magic is. It's my fault we're bonded."

"Stop it, Matthew." Alex holds up a hand, a wordless warning that her silencing spell is only a thought away should she need to use it again. "Your magic certainly helped the bond along but it needed mine to complete the task. If anyone is truly at fault, it isn't you, darling. I knew your magic was untrained, yet I still -" She sighs, shaking her head and smiling softly. "I still gave you my heart."

"And I'm glad you did. But what of my heart?" He asks, giving voice to the only other thing weighing on his mind. "You made me leave you. We were married, and you knew it, and you still made me go home thinking I was betrothed to Daisy."

"I couldn't be sure the bond wasn't influencing your feelings. I thought perhaps if it was weak enough, and you changed your mind once you put some distance between us, you could marry Daisy and be perfectly happy -"

"And to hell with your happiness then?" He waves a hand angrily and uses her own silencing spell against her, though he knows it won't keep her quiet for long – unlike him, she knows the counter spell. "Bloody hell Alex, have you forgotten what we were doing when we were bonded? I was making love to you. I already loved you, whether you allowed me to say it or not." He scrubs a hand over his face and feels the moment Alex breaks his spell, though she makes no attempt to speak. "I don't want to hear any more of this self-sacrificial nonsense. The bond may have married us, but my feelings are my own."

Alex looks at him through watery eyes, her smile radiant. "I'm glad to hear you say so, darling."

The anger drains from him instantly, leaving in its wake relief that the entire Lowe ordeal is behind them and that the woman across from him is his and his alone now. Before he can cross the space between them and kiss her – his wife – senseless, the carriage rolls to a stop. She wipes hurriedly at her eyes as the footman hops from his bench, almost entirely composed when he opens the door for them. Matt steps out first, turning to help Alex down.

She curls her arm around his and as they start for the inn, he leans in and brushes his lips against her temple. "You do realize my parents are going to insist on an actual ceremony where they can invite everyone and be terribly smug, don't you?"

She snorts, turning her head to beam at him. "Do you think they'd allow Moffat to be the ringbearer?"

"Oh, of course," he answers dryly, pressing his lips to the top of her head as she opens the door to her room. She steps inside and he follows behind her, shutting the door. Alex walks through the sitting room and directly into the bedroom but Matt trails behind her, glancing around fondly at her things already littering the place – a chemise draped over a chaise, one stray slipper beneath a table, headache potions and hangover cures she'd undoubtedly made herself lined up in little vials.

Matt stops suddenly, the smile slipping right off his face as the sight of those bottles sparks a memory. He recalls Alex plying him with potions every morning, never telling him what they were for, Alex pouring over her ancient magic texts with a single-mindedness that had amused him at the time. His stomach fills with lead as he realizes what he has been missing all along.

"Matt?" Her hair released from its updo and flowing around her shoulders in lovely ringlets, Alex peeks out from the bedroom with a smile. "Are you coming to bed?"

He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "You were trying to break the bond."

Her smile fades and Alex drops her gaze. "Darling -"

"Every bloody morning, you fed me potions trying to break the bond, Alex. You researched for hours -" He stops, swallowing when his voice shakes. "Were you that desperate to be rid of me?"

She lifts outraged, widened eyes to his, suddenly pale. "Darling, no, that is not why I was trying to break it – I wanted you with me more than anything! But I couldn't be selfish."

She reaches out a hand for him but he doesn't move toward her. "That was not your choice to make alone."

"I know, darling. I'm sorry." She wraps her arms protectively around her middle. "I wanted you to have the freedom to choose -"

"You are my choice." He strides across the room toward her, grasping her hips in his hands and looking down into wet green eyes. "One day, I'll make you understand that."

Alex leans up on her tiptoes and he crushes her small frame to him, kissing her hard. She sighs against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck to draw him down to her, slowly resting back on her feet again. He stumbles with her into the bedroom and toward the bed, desperate to have her – his wife, he thinks again giddily – and feel her bare skin against his. It feels as though they've been separated for eternity.

Alex pushes his jacket from his shoulders and uses her magic to pop all the buttons from his waistcoat – he's really going to have to teach her to be a little more patient before she ruins every waistcoat he owns, not that he minds – while he fiddles with the delicate buttons holding her dress together in the back. She steps out of her gown, leaving it a puddle of expensive red silk on the floor. Her petticoats join them, followed by her corset and chemise, until she's bare before him and just as lovely as ever. He lowers her onto the bed, his hand behind her head until it rests against her pillow.

He unlaces his trousers and Alex pushes them down his legs and off with her feet as he bites his way down her neck and chest. He sucks dusky nipples into his mouth, kisses the soft skin of her stomach and strokes his fingers and his tongue between her thighs until Alex nearly glows golden all over, gasping and impatient. It comes as no surprise at all when she finally pins him to the bed beneath her and straddles his hips – in fact, he'd been rather hoping she might.

Matt looks up at his wife with reverence, lips parting in a quiet groan as she takes his length in her small hands and rocks slowly down on him, enveloping him in the wet warmth of her body. He watches her eyes shut as she takes him inside and feels her magic and adoration settle over him like a warm blanket. He slides his hands up her sides and strokes her breasts, thumbs brushing her nipples to make her shudder. He breathes out "I love you" like a sigh of relief, and freedom of finally saying the words he's kept locked away since the first time he touched her naked skin is enough to make him beam up at her.

Instead of replying, Alex leans down and presses her forehead to his, her curls tumbling around his face and tickling his cheeks. I love you too, darling.

It takes him a moment to realize she hadn't spoken aloud.

"Alex?"

Think of it as another advantage of a magical bond, darling.

He shuts his eyes as she starts to slide up and down the length of his erection, her forehead still pressed tightly to his. You can hear me?

Perfectly. And I know just what you want.

Her fingers rake through his hair and her sex tightens around him, her inner muscles squeezing him. He gasps sharply; swearing inside the privacy of his mind before realizing Alex can hear him anyway when she laughs aloud. She moves again, the slick flesh of her sex enveloping him again and again, and while it takes Matt longer to concentrate, he eventually realizes that he can sense Alex's desires just as clearly as she can sense his. Slipping a hand between their bodies to cup one of her breasts in his hand, he squeezes the supple flesh, pinches her nipple, and hears her moan out loud.

All at once, his mind is instantly flooded with feelings of joy and desire and love, devotion and happiness and a quiet disbelief that someone could ever love her enough to create a bond so powerful. And though she never said in the beginning, Alex shows him now how dearly she had loved him in return all along – this strange, hapless boy who smiled so freely at her and made her heart flutter but was promised to another.

Matt grips her tightly to him, and through the quiet roar of their thoughts melding together in a glorious cacophony, he feels Alex moving steadily against him, feels the sweat slicking their skin and hears their sighs and moans of pleasure. Curling a hand into her hair, he gently pushes his own feelings toward her in return, whispering through their link that no one has ever loved her as much as he does, as much as he will for the rest of their lives. He shows her his first impression of her, shows her the way his fascination had turned to infatuation and desire and quickly to love for everything that she is. He shows her that their bond had not created love, but in fact, their love had created their bond.

He feels her tears against his cheeks and he kisses her hungrily, somehow managing to keep their link intact as their minds turn once more to satiating their desire. Her sex swells and tightens around him, her kisses bruise and her fingers dig into his skin but she doesn't stop moving, pulling him steadily with her toward an explosive release. She senses that he wants to be bitten so she sinks her teeth into a tendon in his neck, sucking so hard it makes his hips buck into her and they both moan, starting a new, harder rhythm.

She tugs at his hair just the way he likes and squeezes her muscles around him again, riding him tirelessly, but the moment he feels her thighs start to tremble, he quickly flips them over. She looks up at him with wild hair and flushed cheeks, her eyes nearly black with want, and he groans, shifting his hips and filling her up in one slow thrust.

"My wife," he pants.

Alex nods hurriedly, her hips undulating against him. "Yes, yours."

Drawing her leg up over his waist, he presses his forehead to hers and finds her mind again as he pumps inside her, already addicted to feeling her essence caressing his thoughts. Alex's mind is like sunlight, warming him from the inside out, flickering colored lights across his eyelids and illuminating even the darkest places with her love and goodness.

Even the inside of your head is absolutely stunning.

She whimpers.

I could spend my life inside you – in your body, and in this mad, beautiful, brilliant mind.

Please, darling.

He senses her urgency, the overwhelming need for release. Lifting her leg higher around his waist, he changes the pace of his thrusts to roll his hips hard against her. He delves deeper into her mind, exploring all the things she never said, all the moments she wanted to kiss him but never did, the genuine pride and thrill she felt every time he succeeded in what she was trying to teach him. He doesn't prod at the only closed door in her mind but it glows brightly, calling to him. He senses somehow that whatever is behind that door makes her happy, but before he can ask her, he feels Alex shudder, her head thrown back against her pillow.

Touch me.

Slipping a hand between their bodies, he finds the place where they're joined and strokes his fingers over her slick sex, rubbing in slow, hard circles that spark with light. Her hips jerk and she keens aloud, swollen lips parted as she gasps and writhes beneath him.

Yes – don't stop – yes, there, yes –

With one last trembling cry, Alex falls apart in his arms and the feel of her body tightening and fluttering around him coupled with the intensity of her pleasure echoing in his mind pushes him dangerously, blissfully close to the edge. With a whimper, Matt buries his face in her neck, his hips still moving erratically as he breathes her in – the exotic aroma of her magic and the scent of her garden lingering on her skin, the comforting smell of her potion ingredients. His heart swells and he feels her mental fingers stroking his mind, leaving trails of golden magic in her wake. Overwhelmed, he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his lips to her shoulder, spilling inside her with a quiet cry of her name.

Alex curls around him as he rolls over to catch his breath, her sweat-damp curls pillowed on his chest. He wraps his arms around her, brushing his lips over her forehead as he feels the mental connection break. He makes a soft noise of dissatisfaction at the loss and she begins to hum softly, just enough to make his oversensitive skin tingle as her magic brushes over him. Sleepy and sated, he only just remembers the closed door in her mind – the shiny one that called to him and made her happy. "You were hiding something," he points out drowsily, slipping his fingertips up and down her spine. "Something good."

She smiles against his skin and her hum changes to soft words, a gentle croon that threatens to lull him to sleep even as he feels her magic seep into his skin like a loving embrace.

"Missed your voice," he murmurs.

She presses her lips to his chest. "You'll be hearing it often soon enough."

He frowns, his mind fuzzy with pleasure and exhaustion. "Why?"

Lifting her head from his chest, Alex smiles at him, green eyes bright with her secret. "I've heard babies enjoy lullabies."

They call her Melody.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	8. Chapter 8

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/1217821.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2014-02-21 Completed: 2014-04-20 Chapters: 9/9 Words:

44165

 **somewhere, on the other side of this wide night**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

"What year did you say it was?"

"I didn't. And it's 1815." She eyes him critically. "Are you a drunkard?"

"I don't think so. Not right now, anyway." He lifts his head and bestows her with a disarming grin.

Notes

For Bec, as a very belated birthday gift. Story title from Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy.

tearing down doors of time

Chapter Notes

For Bec, as a very belated birthday gift. Story title from Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy. Chapter title from Promise by Ben Howard.

Four – the number of champagne glasses she's had tonight, the number of times a bumbling baron has trod on her feet while they danced, the number of times she held her tongue and did not let her smile waver, and the number of times Ralph has forced her to make small talk with the simpering, insufferable wives or mistresses of his friends. Usually, by the time she reaches seven or eight, it's time to leave. Alex keeps track with the hopeful fervency of a wanderer in the desert waiting for rain.

These functions are always so dull. She stays at her husband's side for most of the night; her arm linked through his as she smiles – bright and hollow – at politicians and barons, noblemen and their pretentious wives. She makes small talk and nods along politely, managing the calm, charming outwardly façade befitting of a hostess and the wife of Lord Fiennes but in her head, she's screaming.

"And your son, Eudora?" she asks, pleasant smile in place and Ralph's hand resting encouragingly at the small of her back. "How is he getting along?"

Eudora Davies manages a faint smile, the most motherly affection the wretched woman can muster, and speaks over the delicate fan in her grasp. "According to his nanny, he's learning to walk – months earlier than any of his playmates."

Alex blinks at her, narrowed eyes taking in the smug red lips twisted into a smile and curled red hair arranged just so on top of her head, rubies weaved in carefully to catch the light. Ralph nudges her and she manages a charming smile. "You must be so proud."

A few more minutes of small talk and Eudora and her husband walk away smiling, off to socialize with another group of wealthy socialites just like them. Alex lets out a quiet breath of relief, allowing the tension to drain from her body for just a few moments before Ralph guides her somewhere else. She was never meant for this life. She'd grown up believing she would marry a simple merchant and have a brood of children, and the thought had comforted her. She was content with a life like that, happy and mostly carefree. That had been before Lord Fiennes came along.

Turning to Ralph, she lets her smile drop and says quietly, "I need some air."

He nods reluctantly, eyes already scanning the crowd for someone else to schmooze in her absence. "Very well – I don't believe I'll require you for cigars with Lord Fabian. He's a bachelor anyway." He turns to her, a warning in the set of his mouth. He's a handsome man, her husband. She'd been very lucky to manage such a match at her station in life. It's only that most days, she doesn't feel lucky. "But no longer than a few minutes, do you understand?"

She wants to argue but since they're hosting the party, it's only polite that the mistress of the house carry out her duties as the welcoming hostess. With a stiff nod of agreement, she squeezes his arm in parting and makes her way through the room with bright smiles and pleasant greetings to those she passes. She pauses only to fetch a cup of punch before sweeping from the ballroom in a flurry of rustling silk. The terrace is her favorite place to escape and she steps outside with a smile, breathing in the night air, scented with the aroma of lavender and begonias from the garden.

Idly wishing for something a little stronger, Alex takes one sip of her punch before setting aside her cup. She curls her hand around the railing, eyes falling shut. The sounds of the party inside still reach her ears out here but it's muffled and easier to bear. Sometimes, she enjoys playing hostess, but only when it's her own friends and family gathered in her home. Ralph's crowd of associates are just that – associates. They're acquaintances meant to maintain his standing in society, and Alex has little patience for the intricate workings of the wealthy. She grew up the daughter of a butcher, playing with her sisters in the fields and climbing trees, not going to teatime and shopping for expensive fabric to make dresses.

Ralph has done his best to help integrate her, refusing to let her do any of the household work or go anywhere at all unless she's draped in finery. Instead, she oversees the servants and plans parties, accompanying him everywhere to learn the ins and outs of how people in his social circle operate. She manages admirably for her background. Most days, she even remembers which fork to use first at dinner. Not that it stops the whispers or the judging looks, but she never cared much for the opinions of others.

Sighing quietly, Alex opens her eyes to the sight of her elaborate garden and smiles softly. In return for her mannerly conduct, she gets this – a fine house, the largest and prettiest garden of anyone in town and a team of gardeners to manage it. Some days, it's almost enough to make up for trading her simple life and her simple dreams to fit into the life and dreams of the man she married. There are other rewards, of course, but material things never held much value to Alex. The garden is the one thing that holds any real joy for her. Walking through carefully pruned hedges and sweet-smelling flowers keeps her sane most days, her special sanctuary from the life she has chosen.

Lifting her skirts, she turns from the railing and begins to make her way down the path, hoping to lose herself in the garden for a few minutes before Ralph comes to fetch her. No sooner does she plant one silk-slippered foot onto the grass than she hears a rustling from her rosebushes,

following quickly by a string of appalling profanity muttered under someone's breath. Alex pauses with a frown, peering into the dark and wondering if one of her gardeners had gotten drunk in the bushes again.

"Hello?" she calls out, walking quickly in the direction of the rustling. "Clyde, if you've passed out in my rose bushes again, it's coming out of your wages."

A figure emerges from the bushes, still cursing, and she watches in alarm as an unfamiliar, tall and slender figure untangles himself from her roses and hops about mumbling about a scrape on his elbow. "Not Clyde, thankfully," he says, glancing over his shoulder at her. "I have no wages to give you – least not any that would be useful in whatever the hell year this is. What year is it, anyway? Sorry about the bushes."

He smoothes out his strange clothes, rough blue trousers and a soft looking grey undershirt of some sort, boots on his feet scuffed and clearly not belonging to a man of high class. He shoves a hand through his hair, short and a little fuzzy, and frowns as if he has recently gotten a haircut and isn't yet used to it. She slides her eyes along his square jaw and deeply set hazel eyes, noting prominent cheekbones and ears too big for his head. He's quite possibly the strangest young man Alex has ever laid eyes on. She stares at him openly, mouth agape, before she hears Ralph's voice in her head, chiding her that it's quite unladylike to gawk. She snaps her mouth shut again. "W-who are you, sir?"

Yanking a thorn from his shirt and tossing it away, he offers a mocking bow. "Matt Smith."

"No title?" She frowns, tapping her foot. "I don't believe you were on my husband's guest list for this party without an appropriately impressive moniker, sir."

He snorts, still looking a little preoccupied with his scraped elbow, twisting his arm around to get a better look. So far, he's barely looked at her and Alex resists the urge to tell him how abominably rude he's being – even she had better manners before she came here - but she gets the feeling any admonition would be a lost on a man who wears undershirts out in public. "Not here for a party, Miss Manners."

She blinks at him, realizing belatedly that she'd been mumbling under her breath rather than inside the privacy of her own head. Blushing profusely, she begins to stammer out an apology but the young man finally looks up at her and stops short, staring. She watches as he turns just as red-cheeked as she is, scratching at his chin as he says, "Hello. I'm Matt."

Her mouth twitches in amusement against her will. "So you've said."

"Right, sorry." He glances away, still flushed. "What year did you say it was?"

"I didn't. And it's 1815." She eyes him critically. "Are you a drunkard?"

"I don't think so. Not right now, anyway." He lifts his head and bestows her with a disarming grin.

Refusing to be swayed by it, she crosses her arms under her bosom. "What are you doing in my garden, Mr. Smith?"

His eyes drop below her neckline for a moment, but before she can take offense, he's looking at her face again, smiling. "I'm a little lost."

"Well perhaps I can help you be on your way," she says, still suspicious. Any man who tramples her roses and curses like a sailor can't be the gentlemanly sort. "Where are you headed?"

"Home." He peers over her shoulder at the large house, lit up from within, the wind carrying the strains of a waltz out to meet their ears. His eyes light up. "Did you say you were having a party?"

She nods curtly. "And where is home?"

"London," he says, inching around her and heading for the stone steps leading up to the terrace and into the house. "You wouldn't happen to have any punch, would you? Traveling always makes me a bit parched."

Alex hurries after him, skirts in hand, and barely manages to leap in front of him before he reaches the door and lets himself into her home. "Are you mad, sir? You cannot possibly hope to go into the party dressed in such a manner. You aren't even on the guest list!"

"Blimey, I just want punch, Miss Manners." He laughs – laughs – at her, like he finds her horror endlessly amusing. His eyes twinkle with mirth and he bounces restlessly on his heels. "Come on, just a sip."

She frowns at him, hands on her hips. "There's a cup on the railing over there if you don't mind drinking after me, but you'll not be getting inside looking like that. My husband and his friends would be appalled – not only with you, but with me for allowing you in."

Satisfied, he abandons the entrance to the house and bounds over to the terrace railing, snatching up her glass of punch eagerly and downing it all in one long gulp. Alex watches in fascination as he swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Cheers." He sets the cup aside and eyes her humorously. "So if I just walked into your fancy little party dressed like this, all those-faint hearted little biddies would keel over at the sight of my uncouth attire? Is that it?"

"It isn't only your attire that is uncouth, sir," Alex sniffs. "It is your manner."

He guffaws, the ridiculous man, looking delighted. "You're a cracker, Miss Manners." He shakes his head, scratching his cheek. "And isn't it more uncouth of you to point out how uncouth I am?"

She flushes. No matter how hard she tries, she always manages to slip up somehow. Ralph is increasingly impatient with her slowness to learn. "Forgive me if I offended you, sir."

He shakes his head again, still watching her closely. "You didn't, don't get your undergarments in a knot." He smiles when she gapes at him. "In fact, I think you're the most entertaining person I've encountered yet."

"How flattering," she says dryly, forgetting her manners again but feeling oddly pleased when he laughs. "Now, why don't I go inside and get someone to fetch a hansom cab for you? London isn't far from here and -"

"Oh no." He waves her away, hopping up onto the railing and settling there, long gangly legs dangling. "I'm not from London now, I'm from London later."

She blinks at him. "Pardon?"

Rubbing a hand over his hair, he looks at her sheepishly. "I'm from London in the year 2013."

A very unladylike snort escapes Alex before she can stop it and she claps a hand over her mouth, flushing up to her ears. "My, that was terribly rude of me."

"Just a bit," he says, smirking.

"But it was also terribly rude of you to engage me in conversation when I was under the impression that you were not a drunkard." She frowns at him, taking a few careful steps back. "You mislead me, sir."

Untroubled, the young man shrugs. "You'll believe me soon enough. Stick around, Miss Manners." He flexes his fingers, studying them with a faint smile. "It's almost time."

"My name is Lady Alexandra Fiennes," she corrects, and though she knows the right thing to do is run inside to get her husband and have him throw this madman off their property, she finds herself lingering out here on the terrace, reluctant to part from this strangely dressed fellow.

He grins at her, wide and utterly charming. "Of course it is."

The sound of clipped footsteps behind her is her only warning before she hears, "Alexandra? I said a few minutes, not half an hour. Perhaps you should return to your hosting duties?"

She whirls to face her husband, loathe to leave the man on her terrace to go back inside. She'd much rather stay here and bicker with a complete stranger than play nice with high society for one more minute tonight. "Yes, of course. I'll be right in."

Ralph joins her on the terrace, slinking up to her side and pressing a hand to the small of her back. "Who are you talking to?"

"Oh, just -" she turns to introduce her mysterious drunkard to her husband but the spot on the railing where he'd been only moments ago is empty. She glances around quickly, eyes scanning the garden and beyond but all she sees is darkness. "Did you see where he went?"

He had to have been here – her now empty cup of punch is proof.

Ralph squeezes her hip and furrows his brow. "Who?"

She shakes her head, reaching out a hand to pick up the cup sitting on the railing. It still feels

warm where his fingers had been curled around it. "No one."

In the days after the party, Alex frequents her garden more than ever and though she won't admit it even to herself, she's waiting for the strange man to appear again, to materialize from thin air, as silently as he'd disappeared. He may have been just a very inebriated young man from the nearest town who'd happened to stumble into her gardens, but he was also by far the most engaging person she's met since she moved here.

She spends her days overseeing the workings of the manor and going to tea with society ladies. She attends balls with Ralph, hanging on his arm and smiling politely, as if there is nowhere else she'd rather be. She writes letters and keeps in touch with her family, contemplates getting a cat for company and discards it because Ralph claims he's allergic. Days turn to weeks, and eventually she forgets about the drunkard called Matt Smith in the dull humdrum of her everyday routine. Having fantasies of strange men coming to rescue her from the monotony of her life are not good for her mental health and she pushes those thoughts aside in an effort to stay sane.

When Ralph goes into town on business, she stays behind with the excuse of overseeing the gardeners but the moment he leaves, she dismisses them all and takes care of things herself. Ralph hates for her to dirty her hands, but she likes the gritty feel of dirt and soft soil. She likes curling her hands around weeds and pulling, likes the satisfaction of caring for something. The sun beats at her back, making her sweat through the layers of her dress and corset, and she can feel the back of her neck beginning to tan.

Abandoning her pruning shears, she stands slowly to stretch her aching back, entertaining the possibility of stepping inside for a wide-brimmed hat and a scarf, and perhaps a glass of water, when she hears a thud from the other side of the garden, like a body hitting the ground. Her heart leaps into her throat and she turns quickly, green eyes scanning the backyard. Seeing nothing, she calls out, "Hello? Is someone there?"

"Ah, Miss Manners again." She bites her lip, a thrill racing up her spine at the voice already familiar to her. The man may be mad or drunk or both, but he's different and Alex will cling to any break from the tedium of high society living. "Lucky me."

After a moment, he appears through a hedge, wearing those strange blue trousers again and a black shirt with a half naked, buxom woman on the front. She averts her eyes quickly, scandalized, and watches his booted feet trample her begonias as he reaches her. She scowls and he has the grace to look sheepish.

"Sorry." He rubs at his hair with his palm and watches her with contrite hazel eyes. "I can't really control it, you know."

"Control what?" she asks, risking a glance at him and yes, the naked woman is definitely still on his shirt. She averts her gaze to his boots again, flustered.

"Where I end up. Well, I mean, I can a little." He sighs. "It's complicated. But the point is, I didn't mean to step on your flowers, so could you possibly look at me instead of glaring at my shoes? You're making them nervous."

She forgets about his appalling shirt long enough to look at him incredulously. "Shoes can't feel nervous. I knew you were a drunken lout."

He grins, dropping his eyes pointedly. "Even if I am a drunken lout – which I'm not, thank you – you are the lady of the house and I'm pretty sure you're supposed to invite me in and offer me refreshment."

"Is something to drink all you ever think about?" she frowns. "Besides, I don't have the key to my husband's liquor cabinet and he's away at the moment."

"I told you last time – traveling makes me thirsty." He inches cautiously forward to slide his arm through hers. "A glass of water would be lovely."

Too stunned by his forwardness to protest, Alex lets him guide her up the steps to the terrace and into the house. He releases her arm instantly, gazing around with wide eyes. Puzzled, she watches him and wonders what he finds so awe-inspiring. This is only the smallest sitting room – the one Ralph gave her for her own personal use. She had liked it best because of the lovely view of her garden.

Matt whistles lowly. "Swanky."

"Pardon?"

He laughs. "It's nice."

"Oh. Thank you." She moves to the sideboard where she keeps a decanter of wine and a pitcher of water, pouring the latter into a glass and handing it to him. "I would show you the house but the servants might faint at your attire and I'm still quite certain you're mad."

"Only quite certain?" he smirks around a mouthful of water. "I'm winning you over, Lady Fiennes."

He wanders around the room inspecting her paintings, making appreciative noises as he sips greedily from his glass and Alex perches on the settee, keeping a close eye on him. He seems harmless enough, but he's a virtual stranger, and before becoming the sheltered wife of Lord Fiennes, she knew well enough what might happen to women who found themselves along with male strangers. "If traveling makes you so frightfully thirsty, perhaps you should carry a canteen. Or stay home."

"And deprive myself of your charming company, Miss Manners?" He glances over his shoulder at her, grinning boyishly. Alex feels a faint flutter of warmth in her stomach and glances away. "Besides, it's impossible to take anything with me when I go but the clothes on me back."

"Right, of course. How could I forget – you're a time traveler." Since he isn't looking, she takes the liberty of rolling her eyes heavenward. "Tell me, what does the future look like? Flying pigs?"

"I would be delighted to tell you if I didn't believe you were mocking me." He turns from her painting with a lifted brow but she doesn't back down, watching him skeptically. He downs the last of his water and drops onto the settee next to her. She silently frets over the upholstery. As if sensing her thoughts anyway, he laughs. "Don't think I didn't see you kneeling in the dirt out there. What an unladylike thing to do."

Bristling, she frowns down at her dirt-dusted hands folded in her lap. "I like working in my garden. It's – all I have."

He snorts. "Along with an enormous manor."

"The manor isn't mine, sir. It belongs to my husband," she says stiffly, avoiding his gaze. "Now I really must ask that you do not wander away from town back here again. Ralph would be most displeased to find a strange man wandering about the property and even more so if he found out I'd invited him into the house."

"I told you, I'm not from town." He reaches for the bowl of fruit on the table in front of them and

picks up an apple. "At least not for another two hundred years."

Making an annoyed sound in the back of her throat, Alex watches him bite into the apple with relish, chomping noisily enough to surely alert the whole house of his presence. "Then perhaps the next time you decide to take a jaunt to the past, you might go somewhere else."

"Oi, it's not like I came here again on purpose!" He says, his mouth still half full of apple. "I wanted a little adventure but certainly not another landing in your bloody rosebushes. I don't really know how I got here, to be honest." He swallows, takes another bite into his apple, and squints into the middle distance for a long moment. "Maybe I was thinking of you – or maybe you were thinking of me." He waggles his eyebrows and glances at her. "Pining for a certain time traveler?"

Alex fights back a blush, wondering if he actually knows she spent the first week after their encounter practically living in her garden in case he magically appeared again. Can they read minds in the future? "If I was thinking of you, it was only as I cursed the state of my rosebushes."

"I don't think you even know how to curse," he says fondly, and pushes his half-eaten apple into her palm. At her blank look, he waggles his fingers at her. "I'm feeling all tingly. Time to go. Thanks for the refreshments – you've been a delightful hostess."

Curling her fingers around the apple, Alex feels her heart leap into her throat in panic. "You're leaving?"

"Any minute now." He taps his fingers restlessly against his knee, looking ill at ease.

"So suddenly?" She watches him, distressed and unable to understand why. "Will you be back again?"

For all that she tries not to sound indifferent, Matt seems to see right through her. He grins widely and tilts his head, studying her. "I will if you want me to."

Swallowing, Alex gazes into warm hazel eyes and wonders what on earth she's doing. He's an ill-mannered nuisance who steps on her flowers. She should be glad to be rid of him. And yet… "I want -"

He's gone.

She hadn't even blinked but he's gone. One moment, he'd been sitting there with his hands curled into fists and his eyes soft and amused as he waited for her reply and the next moment, she finds herself staring at the empty end of the settee, his apple still clutched in her hand.

And yesterday, you were here with me

Chapter Summary

"What on earth is that?" She finally blurts when her curiosity will no longer be stifled.

"What?" He follows her gaze and ducks his head to look at his shirt. "Oh, that's Sid Vicious."

She tilts her head. "What's a Sid Vicious?"

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Autumn Leaves by Ed Sheeran.

The next time, she's ready for him.

She waits two days before he finally appears again, and she watches from her bedroom window as he stumbles out from a row of hedges. Even two stories up and through a pane of glass, she can hear his muffled curses. Smiling to herself, she scurries from her armchair by the window and out of her chambers, down the stairs and into her sitting room. She snatches up a pitcher of water, a glass, and an orange before stepping out onto the terrace.

Matt is still fussing with trying to untangle a vine from his shoelace. "You know what you need?" He calls out, as if he already knows she's there. "A bloody landing strip."

"A what?" She laughs; puzzled as ever by the strange way he talks.

He pauses and looks up at her, brow furrowed. "Oh right. No planes yet. Sorry." His eyes land on the supplies in her arms and his whole face lights up. "Oh my god, you gorgeous woman. Is that water? And an orange!" He makes a noise more akin to the tone she'd use to coo at a puppy, bounding to her side and relieving her of her burden. "You are a gem. A complete and utter gem."

Alex flushes at the praise and fidgets. "Well, I thought you might be thirsty. You always are." He nods absently, ignoring her glass to drink directly from the pitcher, and she averts her eyes to keep from scolding him. Perhaps etiquette has changed drastically in the future and drinking glasses are obsolete. It wouldn't be right to judge him by her society's standards when his might find his

behavior perfectly acceptable. Even so, she finds herself fearful of a world in which glasses for drinking are optional.

Perching on the terrace steps as he sets aside the pitcher and begins to peel his orange, she keeps her lips pursed against her endless questions of the future, hoping that he won't disappear before the proper time has passed and she can begin interrogating him. Smoothing a wrinkle in her dress, Alex plucks restlessly at her skirts and studies the young man currently popping an orange slice into his mouth. His shirt is black today, with a picture on the front of a sneering man standing in front of the British flag, his dark hair wild and reckless around him. "What on earth is that?" She finally blurts when her curiosity will no longer be stifled.

"What?" He follows her gaze and ducks his head to look at his shirt. "Oh, that's Sid Vicious."

She tilts her head. "What's a Sid Vicious?"

He laughs, swallowing an orange slice and wiping his fingers on his trousers. "Not what, who. He was the lead singer of a British punk band." At her blank stare, he hums patiently and settles onto the step next to her. "He and a few other blokes used to sing together. In the future."

"Oh?" She likes singing, though Ralph insists she perform at the pianoforte during his parties and she likes that a lot less. "Like what?"

Matt smirks. "Absolutely nothing you would approve of, Miss Manners." He nudges her when she frowns, still grinning. "Meet a man from the future and the first thing you do is ask him about the Sex Pistols? God, you're my favorite." As if to prove it to her, he offers her an orange slice. She takes it tentatively, biting it in half. "Go on then. Ask me something else."

Alex chews thoughtfully, thinking of all the things she could ask about what the world looks like, new inventions and books and politics but when she swallows, what tumbles out is, "Does everyone in the future wear those frightful trousers?"

He laughs until tears spring to his eyes and she admits privately that she likes the sound, a hoarse, childish giggle. Still clutching his side, he leans back against the steps behind him and nods, wiping at his eyes. "They do, actually. They're called jeans."

She mouths the word silently and it feels foreign on her tongue.

Matt smiles softly and glances away, staring out into her garden as he pours himself glass of water from the pitcher. "It's beautiful out here," he says. "Do you care for it all yourself?"

She shakes her head. "My husband doesn't approve of ladies doing manual labor. He employs a team of gardeners to do most of the work, but I like to help when he isn't around."

"Well, what a surprise. Lady Fiennes, a rebel." He eats another orange slice and grins around a mouthful when Alex widens her eyes. "Wait till I tell you about feminism."

"You and your strange words," she huffs, crossing her arms under her bosom. "I don't know why I was so pleased to see you. You're clearly addled in the head."

"It means equality," he explains, looking amused. "Between men and women. And everyone, really. You can bloody well work in your garden in your undergarments if you like and no man can tell you not to." All at once scandalized and intrigued by the notion, Alex's feverish mind races with endless questions about this equality business, but Matt forges ahead without her. "You were pleased to see me, then?"

She shrugs primly, embarrassed.

"I didn't actually mean to come back at all. Just forgot to take my medication." He rubs a thumb over his ear, and, really, they are quite large. She wonders why he doesn't grow his hair out to cover them, but she can't help finding it a little charming all the same. "I could feel myself starting to fade and I only had time to think of somewhere pleasant to land before I was gone – somewhere nice, with a pretty garden and a beautiful woman to greet me." He winks cheekily and she stares, bewildered by him. He reaches out a hand and tugs at a curl hanging in her eyes, a wayward piece that slipped from her updo. His long fingers are gentle and smell like citrus. She struggles not to inhale deeply, barely breathes at all until he drops his hand back to his lap. "Shame I didn't specify unmarried, hmm?"

Alex flushes crimson and instantly hates herself for it. What is it about this strange man that renders her a witless, simpering fool? Clearing her throat, she eats the last half of her orange slice and avoids his gaze. "You said you take medication? To stop yourself from traveling?" At his nod, she frowns. "Doesn't everyone time travel in the future?"

"No, thank god," Matt laughs, scrubbing a hand over his face. His cheekbones are quite something, she realizes distantly. "I'm an anomaly."

She bites her lip. "You really didn't mean to come back?"

He shakes his head. "You were quite cross with me the last few times. Though I'm starting to think it isn't you being cross so much as you being your uppity self. Very unfortunate."

Flustered, she turns on him with narrowed eyes. "How dare you -"

His laugher stalls the angry words in her throat. "You should learn to lighten up, Lady Fiennes." He meets her eyes for a long moment before letting his gaze drop, sliding along her bodice with enough interest to make her skin prickle. "You know, let down your hair, loosen your corset.

Figuratively, I mean," he adds hastily, looking into her eyes again with a sheepish grin. "Bet you've never been drunk in your life, have you?"

"Have I ever been gluttonous with my liquor and made a complete fool out of myself, you mean? Have I ever had a whole bottle of whiskey and turned into a complete scoundrel? No, sir, I have not." Alex lifts her chin and raises an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be ashamed of having self control?"

He bites his lip, clearly struggling not to outright laugh at her. "Yeah, you definitely need a drink."

He's up the steps and slipping into the house before Alex can stop him and she squeaks in alarm, struggling to her feet and hitching up her skirts a little to hurry after him. Her sitting room is empty and she follows the sound of booted footsteps down the hall, heart pounding as she glances around for servants. If any of them spot Matt, it'll be all over town within hours that she had a strange man in the house while her husband was away. She can't even begin to imagine the consequences should such a thing get back to Ralph.

She passes Mrs. Blackburn cleaning the larger sitting room where Ralph entertains his guests. The head housekeeper nods politely when she sees Alex, a friendly smile on her face, and Alex returns it with a sigh of relief. Slipping past the room and hurrying on her way, she wonders how Matt had possibly escaped the nosy woman's notice even as she hears the telltale muffled curses that always prelude Matt's appearances. She sighs gustily and follows the noise down the corridor, finding herself standing in the doorway of Ralph's study.

Crouched on the floor, Matt has broken into the liquor cabinet and she watches him pull out a bottle of whiskey with a noise of triumph. "Blimey, this is the good stuff."

"What are you doing in here?" She hisses, shutting the door behind her in case a servant discovers

them. "Have you no decency at all?"

"None." He glances over his shoulder at her with a wicked smirk. "Come on then, Miss Manners. Have a drink with me."

Without waiting for an answer, he grabs two glasses and rises to his feet, swaggering over to Ralph's leather armchair and sinking into it with a sigh, as if he's lord and master of the manor himself. He pours himself two fingers of whiskey and one for her, placing it on the table and pushing it toward her with a raised brow.

It's a challenge and Alex Kingston could never resist one of those. Apparently, neither can Lady Fiennes. With a barely repressed huff, she stalks further into the room and takes up the glass, sinking into the sofa opposite him. "Just a sip," she warns at his victorious grin. "And only to silence you."

He shrugs carelessly, watching with interest as she lifts the glass to her mouth. The whiskey burns all the way down her throat and she coughs, eyes watery. "That's vile," she manages, voice hoarse.

Matt laughs, taking her glass and filling it again. "You'll get used to it."

Doubtful, she takes the glass from him again anyway, watching with admiration as he downs his own glass without flinching. Already she can feel the alcohol warming her insides, like a heavy blanket, and she suddenly understands why Ralph likes to drink it on cold nights. She sips cautiously this time, savoring the strange, smoky taste on her tongue.

Matt seems more interested in watching her drink than paying attention to his own glass and Alex wants to fidget under his gaze but she doesn't, studying him just as intently. Even as at ease as he is in this distant land, he seems so out of place in his clothes from the future, slouched in the seat where the ever-pristine master of the house usually sits, reading his paper and smoking a cigar. Matt looks positively foreign.

He snorts, reaching for the box of cigars sitting on the table. "Thanks for that."

"Oh my goodness, did I say that out loud?" Alex eyes the glass in her hand distrustfully, squinting.

"You have a habit of doing that," he says, amused. "Not very ladylike."

She giggles, clapping a hand over her mouth.

Pausing in the middle of sniffing a cigar, Matt raises his eyes to look at her, stunned. His eyes soften and his mouth curls into a little grin, those cheekbones suddenly flushed with color. Thrown off balance by his gentle gaze, Alex composes herself quickly and puts aside her drink. "What?"

"Nothing." He drops his eyes and picks up a match, lighting the cigar. She wants to tell him the servants will smell the smoke and think she's gotten into her husband's stash herself but for some reason, she just lets him do as he likes. He usually does anyway. "I just like hearing you laugh." Letting out an appreciative hum as he takes the cigar from his mouth, he releases a plume of smoke toward the ceiling. "You should try it more often."

The words form an ache in her chest and Alex busies her trembling hands with smoothing out her skirts, lips pursed tightly. "I didn't used to be this way," she confesses, wondering why she feels the need to tell him. It isn't any of his business but for some reason, the thought of this odd young man with his infectious grin thinking she's an eternally uptight stick in the mud makes her unhappy. Not so long ago, she was the eldest daughter of Anthony Kingston and young men fell in love with her ever-present smile. "I'm just trying to fit in here. Every day, everywhere I go, I'm judged for being of a lower class than everyone else around me. Ralph married beneath him, you see."

Cigar frozen halfway to his lips, Matt doesn't move, staring at her with gentleness and a little regret in his gaze. "He must really love you," he observes softly.

She shrugs uneasily. "He thought I was beautiful. I barely knew him when he proposed."

"Ah, the solid marriages of the regency era," he snorts softly, paying no attention to her confusion. "You still said yes – even not knowing him."

"Of course I did," she says, frowning. "He was a very smart match."

"And love is of no consequence when a man makes eight thousand pounds a year, hmm?" Matt stubs out the cigar and leaves it lying in the tray, flexing his fingers. "I'm about to head off, I think. Thanks for the drink, Lady Fiennes."

She nods silently, a lump in her throat. She can't decide if it's the smoke in the air, the alcohol in her stomach, or the knowledge that any moment, her peculiar new companion is going to disappear in front of her again. Perhaps all three at once.

"Even married to your stuffy old husband, you've got plenty of reasons to smile. Big house, lots of pretty dresses and those sinful corsets, enough money to do whatever you like." He grins impishly at her, scratching the back of his head as he climbs to his feet. "Maybe if you stopped trying so hard to fit in, you might have more fun around here."

Shaking her head, she watches him approach her warily. "It's not about having fun."

His smile fades and he crouches down in front of her, one of those long-fingered hands resting on her knee, hot as an iron through petticoats and the silk of her dress. Alex feels her breath catch and she can't bring herself to move as he reaches out a hand and cups her cheek, thumb brushing softly over her skin. Her eyes lock with his and she feels a flutter of warmth in the pit of her stomach. "Then what's the point, love?"

He's gone before she can reply and she sits there with her heart pounding in her chest and the whiskey settling oddly in her stomach until she hears the sound of Ralph's voice ringing out from the foyer. She jumps when he calls her name, scurrying to put away the whiskey and stash the cigar in a potted plant. She doesn't have time to freshen her breath with a gargle of perfume so she turns her head as she goes out to greet him, hoping he doesn't smell the alcohol on her.

"Hello, my sweet." He smiles, handing his coat to his footman Miles. "Did you manage to entertain yourself while I was away?"

She nods, her cheeks flushed and her smile forced. "How was town?"

"Odious, as usual." He wraps an arm around her waist and nuzzles her hair. "It's good to be home again." She leans into his embrace and closes her eyes, pretending she doesn't smell perfume that isn't her own on his collar.

In the weeks that follow, Alex rarely stops thinking of her last encounter with Matt. She lies awake at night thinking of his hand on her knee and remembers the oddly gentle look in his eyes

out of nowhere right in the middle of teatime. It makes her spoon tremble against the china of her teacup and she laughs when all the ladies look at her, murmuring that she's clearly had enough sugar. More than anything, she thinks constantly of his parting words to her. She spends her days struggling to fit in, to be the perfect wife to one of the wealthiest men in five counties. She pretends to like people whose idle chatter and spoilt mannerisms make her nauseous. And for what? What is the point in a big house full of servants, more money than she could ever spend and more influence than one woman has any right to if she isn't going to enjoy it? What's the point of life at all if she isn't having any fun?

She contemplates it even as she sits at her vanity the night of yet another ball. Ralph loves the summer season – he throws parties nearly every weekend just so he'll have the excuse of showing everyone that he can afford it. Constantly rubbing elbows with people she barely tolerates is mentally exhausting but Alex never says a word. She only smiles and strives to be the picture perfect hostess. She eyes herself critically in the mirror. Ralph had brought another dress from town for her to wear tonight, as if a present will make up for what she knows he's doing there – visiting her. The identity of the female remains a mystery but Alex is certain only low class women wear perfume so cloying.

It isn't her place to confront him. He gave her a home and money and fine things, he treats her well and doesn't ever lay an angry hand on her. It's more than many women could ever hope to have, and what Ralph does in his own time is none of her concern. Men stray all the time and it is the expectation that a wife will look the other way, so long as he's discreet. Other than a small pang of betrayal every time he comes home smelling of someone else, Alex doesn't feel anything at all.

The dress – a lavish representation of his guilt – is quite beautiful. Made of silk the color of the wheat, tiny pearls sewn intricately into the bodice, it's elegant enough to show everyone in the room just how much money her husband spends on her without being ostentatious. It brings out the deeper, honey-hued color of her curls. Alex tugs on a ringlet and stares at herself in the mirror, frowning. Her hair is her best feature, according to her mother. Composed of wild, corkscrew ringlets, it is her only distinguishing trait and without it on display, she looks like all the other married women at the balls. Living here has slowly made her forget, but once, Alex had always taken great pride in standing out.

With a thoughtful hum, she opens a drawer in her vanity and grabs a handful of pins just as Cecily

– the young maid responsible for helping her dress – steps into the room. "Ready to put up your hair, Ma'am?"

Alex shakes her head, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Actually, I think I'd like to try something different tonight."

With butterflies in her stomach, she instructs Cecily to only pin up half of her hair, leaving the rest spilling freely down her shoulders and though she can sense the girl's hesitance, she doesn't

question Alex's orders. She even pins an orchid in her curls to complete the look and the end result is a soft, lovely style unlike anything the other ladies wear. Pleased, Alex thanks Cecily profusely and sends her on her way, determined to stay out of Ralph's sight until the ball begins and there is nothing he can do to make her change.

She slips from her room just in time to help her husband greet their guests as they arrive and he does a double take, eyes narrowed as he takes her in. He shakes the hand of a baron with a smile on his face, directing him into the ballroom, and as they watch Everard Davies and his wife Eudora walk up the path to their front door, arm in arm, Ralph keeps his welcoming smile in place, speaking through his teeth, "What are you doing?"

"Helping you to greet our guests," she answers, furrowing her brow and looking at him as if she can't begin to imagine what he's on about. "Would you like to do it alone?"

Before he can snap a reply, the Davies' reach them and he shakes hands with Everard warmly. "Lovely to see the two of you again. How is that handsome child of yours?"

"As good-looking as ever," Everard says proudly, cigar in the corner of his smirking mouth. "Takes after his father." Turning to Alex, he offers a bow and kisses her hand. "Hopefully, any child you have, Ralph, will resemble your charming wife."

Alex manages a stiff smile, her stomach dropping. After a few years of marriage, she's all but given up on ever having children of her own. "You flatter me, sir."

Everard winks at her good-naturedly and leads his simpering wife away with him. Alex doesn't miss the way Eudora's eyes flick up to her hair curiously, her mouth a thin line of disapproval. Already, she can imagine the circle of ladies who will no doubt stand in the corner tonight and cluck their tongues at her for trying to look like a girl again.

The moment the couple disappears into the ballroom, Ralph turns on her. "Your hair-"

She touches a fingertip to the orchid in her curls. "You like it?"

"Like -" He huffs, blue eyes livid. "Go upstairs and put the rest of it up. You're not an unmarried young girl anymore. I can't believe Cecily allowed you downstairs looking like that."

"Cecily works for me," she snaps. "Not the other way around. And I can't fix it – I have to stay

down here and play hostess. You're always telling me how rude it is to leave your parties."

He growls under his breath but another exquisitely dressed couple is walking up the and he pastes on a charming smile. They exchange pleasantries, Ralph kissing the hand of another lord's wife in greeting and Alex accepting her compliments on her dress and offering her own in turn. When they're gone, he hisses, "You may not care for your reputation, but it reflects on me -"

Alex sighs patiently but inwardly, she's astounded at her own level of rebellion. It's the height of disrespect to contradict her husband's wishes so blatantly. "It's hair, dear. Hardly the subject of gossip." She turns her head and frowns at him. "You loved my hair when we met."

"And I still do," he says, though he barely glances at her as he says it, his jaw tight with anger. "But you're not a country girl anymore. You're a Lady and it's simply not genteel."

She drops her eyes, biting her lip. "It makes me happy," she admits softly.

"Then your happiness needs a new outlet," he snaps.

She flinches but instead of nodding in defeat, she feels only righteous anger at his words and she lifts her chin, glaring. "I just wanted a change. I don't think my hairstyle is going to cost you any of your precious society friends, so leave me be. Calm down and go have a drink, for goodness sake. What sort of man obsesses over his wife's hair of all things?"

For a long moment, Ralph stares at her in stunned silence. In the ballroom, the strains of music from the orchestra they'd hired for the night reaches their ears, their guests starting to enjoy themselves without their hosts. Finally, he shakes his head and says, "What has gotten into you?"

Alex glances away guiltily, knowing if not for the strange man from the future, it never would have crossed her mind to be so defiant. Ralph stalks away without waiting for an answer, leaving her standing alone in the corridor but she stays put, unwilling to walk into the ballroom and stand at his side, pretending to be his adoring wife when she's caught between remorse and insolence.

A slow clap draws her focus from the ground and up, down the corridor. Slouched against a wall and smirking, Matt is dressed in another pair of those jeans, a blue shirt that for once doesn't have some sort of vulgar design on the front and a jacket made of the same rough material as his trousers. "That was literally the most restrained, polite domestic I've ever seen. Beautiful."

She glares down the corridor at the reason for her conflicting emotions. "What are you doing here?"

He straightens from the wall and begins to saunter toward her, hands in his pockets. "I came back to see you, of course." He stops just short of invading her personal space and at her unimpressed stare, he flushes and looks unsure for the first time since she met him. He drops his head and peeks at her through his lashes. "I could hardly abandon you to a boring life without me, could I? What would my little stick in the mud do for fun?"

She frowns, secretly pleased despite herself that he'd returned on purpose this time rather than by chance. But she's still annoyed at his influence over her and letting him know how happy she is to have him around – especially tonight – is unthinkable. "I'm hosting a party and I haven't the time for your antics. Go to the library and wait there. There's a liquor cabinet in there – feel free to help yourself."

He opens his mouth to protest, looking petulant.

"Stay in the library," she warns. "I'll not protect you if my husband sees you and has you thrown from the premises."

It's a lie and she wonders if he knows it.

When he grins outright, she knows he does. "Yes, ma'am. I'll be a good boy, on my honor."

"Do you even have any?" She quips, enjoying the way his eyes widen in surprise. It feels good, not worrying about her manners for once and saying whatever comes into her mind. She's missed it. Without waiting for him to formulate a reply, she turns on her heel and moves to enter the ballroom, but the sound of his voice stops her. She pauses and turns back, eyebrow raised questioningly.

Matt scuffs at the ground with the toe of his boot, looking uncharacteristically shy. "Your hair looks beautiful like that."

She feels her cheeks heat with color and dips her head in thanks, heart leaping at the compliment. "You're the first to say. It's not the fashion – nor is it proper for a married woman."

"Why are you wearing it then?" He smiles like he already knows.

Still, she hesitates. "Because I like it."

He laughs, looking almost proud. "Fun, isn't it?"

Her answering smile is reluctant but she can't hide the twitching corners of her mouth. "It's a start."

With one last glimpse over her shoulder to see him loping off on long legs in the direction of the library, Alex strides into the ballroom to join her husband, feeling lighter and happier despite Ralph's mood and the judging stares of wealthy socialites. She enjoys herself a little more tonight than any other, feeling more like herself with her hair around her shoulders and a flower tucked behind her ear. Watching her tongue and her manners around these people is still a priority but she's so used to slipping into the role that it comes easily now. Sometimes she doesn't even have to think before she speaks.

After a few hours, the party begins to wind down and there are few enough people that slipping away for a few minutes won't be considered rude. She walks directly to the library, hoping Matt had managed to linger a little longer this time but she isn't surprised to find the room without an occupant. The smell of cigar smoke still lingers in the air and a half-finished glass of scotch sits on a pile of books on a table.

Shaking her head at the clutter he'd left behind, she glides swiftly to the table and begins to pick up after him, downing the rest of the scotch herself. She begins to stack the books neatly to carry over to the right bookshelves when a leaf of paper from one of them flutters to the ground. She pauses, books balanced precariously, and stoops to pick it up. In messy penmanship, ink blotted on the page as if he'd been unused to writing with a quill, Matt had written: See you soon, Miss Manners – or should I even call you that anymore, you feisty minx? – M.

Smiling at an empty room, Alex tucks the note into her bodice for safekeeping.

my love, don't fade away

Chapter Summary

The last person on earth she expected to find in her kitchen in the middle of the night was Matt Smith, though she wonders how he manages to continue surprising her. The man thrives on showing up at the most inconvenient times – in the middle of balls, at two in the morning when she's in her nightgown. Oh lord, her nightgown. Blushing furiously, Alex wraps her dressing gown tighter around her frame and crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring Matt's knowing smirk. Honestly, at times he can be downright lecherous. "What are you doing here? And how did you get in?"

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Reminder by Mumford and Sons.

Embroidery by candlelight is hellish on the eyes. Alex squints in the dim light of her private chambers and struggles not to prick her sore fingers again. She has never been very adept at sewing or embroidering or, really, anything at all in which ladies are supposed to excel. She can sing well enough and Ralph loves to request her performances at balls they host, and she's even fairly accomplished at drawing and painting, but the truly ladylike, delicate things tend to escape her. She forges on anyway because she is nothing if not perseverant, and if Eudora Davies can embroider insipid flowers, then Alex can too.

She takes out her frustrations on a needle and thread like she has been taught ladies are supposed to do – apparently throwing things at Ralph would be most uncalled for. It's been two days and he is still barely speaking to her when not in polite company, but that isn't the part she minds. It's rather nice being left on her own during the day, and he'd long ago stopped bothering her in the night once he realized children would never be an option. She doesn't mind that either – the whole business had been uncomfortable, bordering on painful, and she can't begin to imagine what all the fuss is about. No, what really irritates her is that he isn't speaking to her over her hair. It's the silliest reason not to speak to someone she's ever heard of.

The needle pierces through the fabric and into her skin again. Alex yelps, muttering a barbarous expletive she'd learned from Matt, and stuffs her finger into her mouth to soothe the sting. Scowling at the needlepoint, she tosses the whole lot of it onto her nightstand, deciding she's had more than enough practice for one night. Still too worked up to blow out her candle and go to bed, she slips from beneath the sheets with a weary sigh, picking up her dressing gown. Perhaps a cup of tea will help her sleep.

Tying her gown together as she traipses quietly down the corridor and the staircase, she manages to make her way to the kitchen without waking anyone. Ralph dislikes her venturing into the kitchen, claiming they have servants for a reason, but considering he's already angry with her, it can't do any real harm to disobey him again. What can he do, become even more sullen and silent?

Unfortunately, as she nears the kitchen door and the smell of tea in the air fills her senses, she realizes someone else is already ahead of her. She pauses for a moment outside the door, a hand on the frame. She'd been looking forward to a little time alone in the kitchen and she isn't sure she's up to conversation with one of the maids, but a cup of chamomile tea sounds too tempting to resist. Perhaps she can take a cup back to her bedroom rather than lingering for pleasantries. It's such a late hour it might not even be considered rude.

Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door and slips into the kitchen, a polite smile on her face for whichever member of her staff is still up. Instead of Cecily or Mrs. Blackburn, she finds herself staring at Matt sitting on the counter rather than a chair like a normal person, hands wrapped around a delicate china cup and breathing in the steam rising from his tea. He glances up at her sharp intake of breath and a slow grin lights up his whole face. "Hello," he whispers, as if afraid to wake the house. "What are you doing up?"

She stares at him in silence for a moment, too stunned to speak. The last person on earth she expected to find in her kitchen in the middle of the night was Matt Smith, though she wonders how he manages to continue surprising her. The man thrives on showing up at the most inconvenient times – in the middle of balls, at two in the morning when she's in her nightgown. Oh lord, her nightgown. Blushing furiously, Alex wraps her dressing gown tighter around her frame and crosses her arms over her chest, ignoring Matt's knowing smirk. Honestly, at times he can be downright lecherous. "What are you doing here? And how did you get in?"

"Is that any way to greet a guest?" he raises his thin eyebrows at her and takes another sip of tea. When Alex fails to apologize for her apparent rudeness, he sighs. "My timing's a bit off, didn't mean to come here in the middle of the night and I didn't want to wake you. But I was thirsty and I've broken into enough places in my travels to know how to do it quietly. And before you say anything, yes, I know it was rude." He shrugs, obviously unremorseful. "Now, want some tea?"

Reluctantly, she nods and watches him hop from the counter and wander about the kitchen like he owns it, fetching her a cup and pouring her water from the kettle he'd found. "How do you like yours?" He hums thoughtfully, holding up a hand. "Don't tell me – you take one sugar when you're with all your uppity society friends but when you're by yourself, you prefer two."

"Three, actually," she mumbles, biting her lip when he laughs quietly.

"Damn. Bloody close, though." He slides a cup and saucer in front of her and Alex slides into a

chair gratefully, murmuring her thanks. "What are you doing up so late, young lady?"

She closes her eyes and doesn't answer for a moment, savoring the tea on her tongue and the way it begins to warm her from the inside out. "I couldn't sleep," she finally says.

Thankfully, he doesn't ask her why, only watches her silently from across the table. "Maybe you just need a bedtime story."

She resists the urge to snort. "Perhaps. Have anything in mind?"

He ducks his head, lips pursed. "I didn't take my meds on purpose. I wanted to see you."

She swallows her tea around her suddenly dry throat. "Oh? Whatever for?"

"I got a part in this play – this really great, amazing play – and I had so many people I could call or text, who would love to celebrate with me and the first thing I wanted to do was find you even though I knew you wouldn't understand a thing I said. God, you'd even hate the play. You'd say it was immoral." He snorts softly and lifts pained hazel eyes to look at her. "But I didn't care about any of that. I just wanted you to know."

Alex stares back at him in silence, her throat closing up and her heart in her mouth. "I'm flattered," she manages, blinking away the sting in her eyes. "Congratulations, darling."

His eyes light up at the term of endearment and Alex hides her flush by bringing her cup of tea up to her mouth and sipping, hoping he'll attribute the red of her cheeks to the steam. "Thanks. It's not easy, you know, having a friend who lives so far away."

"Am I your friend?" She asks over the sudden rushing in her ears. "I didn't even know you were an actor."

"Never cared much to talk about me – always doing that back home." He scratches at his head and shrugs. "It's not the unfortunate profession it is in this time period, though. Pay's pretty decent, actually."

"What else do you do?" She asks, stifling a yawn. "When you're not traveling in time and

acting?"

"I'll tell you on one condition," he says, rising from his seat. "You take your tea into the sitting room and lie down."

She blinks up at him standing over her, a fond smile on his face, and suddenly feels very sleepy. "Are you my bedtime story, then?"

His smile widens. "If you like. Come along, Lady Fiennes."

"Alex," she says as she climbs to her feet, allowing him to guide her along with a gentle hand on her elbow. "Lady Fiennes is a terribly stuffy character and I don't care for her at all."

Matt laughs, a quiet noise in her ear that makes her shudder inexplicably. "How unfortunate. I'm quite fond of her. She's very entertaining – especially when she's tired."

"That's because you're my friend," she says, a warmth filling her very like the tea had done as the words leave her mouth. "You have to like all of me."

"Untrue." He pulls her into her private sitting room and guides her to the settee, pushing her gently onto it. "I just have to tolerate all of you."

She huffs at his rudeness but the comfort of the settee cushions beneath her stalls any reprimand. Instead, she curls up into a ball and rests her head on the cushioned arm as Matt watches her settle in.

"Comfy?" he asks, looking amused.

She has a feeling he's mocking her but she nods primly anyway. "My story, if you please."

Matt sighs patiently and sinks into the chair across from her. "Close your eyes, Alex." She frowns but her eyelids are heavy and he hadn't bothered to call her any of those silly nicknames. She obeys almost without thought. Satisfied, he starts to talk, telling her in a soft, slow voice about this sport called football he likes to play and his older sister Laura who has her own dance troupe. He tells her how he used to play the part of a man Doctor Who, who was also a man who could travel

in time. He tells her that he likes sweets and music and colorful socks.

Gradually, the soft, soothing sound of his voice lulls her to sleep and though she struggles to stay awake and listen, to hold onto her time with him for as long as she can, she drifts off in the middle of a story about his grandfather. When she wakes, morning, sunlight filters in through the drapes in her sitting room and Matt is gone once again. Alex clutches the blanket he'd draped over her before he left and sighs in disappointment.

"Are there others like me?"

She peers at him over the top of her thin, leather-bound journal but Matt isn't looking at her, reclining on his back on the picnic blanket, one arm behind his head and the other hand plucking grapes from a bowl and dropping them into his mouth. She hasn't seen him for weeks, not since that night she found him in the kitchen, but she's been keeping a list of questions to ask him should he come back again. And come back he does. He'd appeared today in the middle of a cool summer afternoon and as usual, he'd been parched. Alex had decided instead of giving him an orange and water again, a picnic under a shade tree in her garden was just the thing.

Without opening his eyes, Matt snorts softly and answers in a teasing tone, "Oh yeah. Got a girl in every era of history, me."

Flustered, she harrumphs and tosses a grape at him, inexplicably annoyed when he isn't bothered, plucking it from where it landed on his shirt and popping it into his mouth. "I am not your girl. I meant are there others who know you're a man out of time. Who supply you with water and food and manage not to bash you over the head with something out of sheer exasperation."

He pouts up at her, wounded. "What do you mean you're not my girl? Of course you are – we're having a picnic with grapes for god's sake."

She shakes her head, mildly amused with his antics despite herself. "I'm a married woman, sir."

Grumbling under his breath, Matt rolls over on his stomach and reaches for another biscuit. "I could challenge him to a duel. Do they still do that sort of thing now?"

"Not quite." She watches him bite off half of his biscuit at once, crumbs falling on the blanket, and

wrinkles her nose. "Use a napkin, honestly."

Matt answers her with an obnoxious smack of his lips. "Did you bake these biscuits?"

"Our cook did. I'm not allowed in the kitchen – Ralph says it's beneath me," she shrugs and when Matt frowns, it's difficult not to notice the bit of powdered sugar clinging to his upper lip from the biscuit he'd eaten. Without thought, Alex reaches out and swipes it away with her thumb, conscious of Matt's sharp intake of breath when she touches him. Embarrassed as he stares at her with wide eyes, she wipes her thumb on her skirt and looks away, blushing. "I'll pass along your compliments, however."

He ducks his head, brushing away the crumbs on the blanket and avoiding her gaze just as thoroughly. "Does he – I mean -" He shakes his head, sighing. "What's he like, your husband? Tell me about him."

"There isn't much to tell, I'm afraid. He's a very wealthy man – his family has always been well-to-do. They have quite the fearsome reputation." She picks up the bowl of grapes and holds it in her lap, idly wondering what the servants must think of her entertaining a young man out here.

Matt opens his mouth like a helpless baby bird, blinking big eyes up at her, and she decides she doesn't care what they think nearly as much as she should, dropping a grape into his waiting mouth.

He mumbles his thanks as he chews. "What else?"

Alex hums thoughtfully, fingers tapping lightly against her chin. "He likes drinking the best whiskey and smoking the finest cigars, and throwing lavish balls so everyone knows how much money he has. He waited until he was thirty to marry because no woman reached his standards and he says he picked me because he thought I was prettier than any of his friends' wives. But I think he liked that I didn't have any money or anything to offer him. He even had to hire a tutor to teach me how to act and speak around his rich friends." She laughs lightly, fiddling with a loose thread in the picnic blanket. "I think it makes him feel superior."

A larger hand with long, tapered fingers rests over hers, stilling her nervous movement and she glances up biting her lip to find Matt watching her, mouth pursed and eyes pained. She manages a brief smile, turning her hand over to squeeze his fingers. "Well," he says at last, attempting a light-hearted tone. "At least you don't have any kids with the twat."

She flinches. "Not for lack of trying. I can't have them."

Matt inhales sharply, his grip on her fingers suddenly iron-tight. "Shit, love. I'm so sorry." He scrubs a hand over his face. "For that and for saying shit."

Letting out a choked laugh, Alex smoothes a hand over his fuzzy head, ignoring the flutter of her heart whenever she initiates physical contact with this man. "It's probably for the best but it does leave me rather vulnerable." At his bemused look, she sighs. "Without children to bind us together, he could turn me out of the house whenever he likes and marry another – a woman capable of bearing his children."

"You mean demon spawn," Matt scowls, looking moody and she feels a rush of fondness for him and his solidarity. She likes that he sees the practices of her time as barbaric, that he isn't siding with Ralph and telling her as her mother does that she should be lucky he still wants her even though she's defective. She likes that Matt talks to her like she's a person and that she can confide in him without fear of scolding or judgment. And she knows if she were to tell him of Ralph's mistress, he would be furious on her behalf, whereas everyone else she knows would see it as her husband's right. She wonders what sort of future Matt comes from – if he's a special case or if all men are like him where he's from. "I understand now, though."

She blinks, hurriedly looking away from studying his profile and putting aside the bowl of grapes. "What?"

"Why you were so keen to follow all the rules." He traces the tip of his index finger over the gold thread at the hem of her gown, brow furrowed. "I didn't realize how dependent you are on his… kindness." The word seems to leave a sour taste in his mouth, his lips twisted in a grimace, and she hides a smile. "I'm sorry for pushing you."

"Don't be." She pushes his hand away with a scolding look when he begins to wrinkle the hem. "If he decides to turn me out of the house, there's nothing I can do to stop him. I might as well enjoy myself while I can."

"What a positive outlook, my Lady," he says, affecting a posh accent that makes him sound ridiculous and uncomfortably close to those she interacts with on a daily basis. He laughs at her face and rolls over again, stretching languidly. The hem of his shirt slides up over his stomach, revealing taut, pale skin and Alex feels her face heat up but cannot bring herself to look away until he tugs his shirt back down, oblivious to her predicament. "Anything else you want to know?" He taps pointedly at the book still open on her lap. "I see a lot of writing in there."

She tilts the book protectively away from his prying eyes. "I'll not ask you everything all at once. I'll save some of them for other days." When she looks at him questioningly, wondering if there will even be other days, he smiles softly and nods once. She brightens, shutting the book and tucking it away. "You said before you can travel wherever you like if you concentrate."

"Mhm." He shoves another biscuit into his mouth and she decides the next time he shows up, she's going to sit him down at a table and make him learn the same lessons in etiquette she did when she married Ralph – that powdered sugar clinging to his mouth is most unmannerly and more than a little distracting.

"Then why did you travel here that first time?" She offers him a napkin but places it directly over his face, giggling when he sputters dramatically. "Were you thinking about visiting this era?"

He removes the napkin from his face and wipes his mouth, shaking his head. "I just forgot to take my medicine – a sort of variation on a drug people use when they're prone to seizures. It stops me from traveling. But I'm a bit of an absent-minded idiot and forget to take my doses. The night we met I traveled in my sleep – was taking a kip on the sofa."

"Why do you take the medicine at all?" She frowns, wondering what it would be like to have the ability to go anywhere or do anything, in any era of history. She could learn everything the world has to offer. She could see the Pyramids or hike the mountains in China. She could climb trees again and not worry about dirtying her fine gowns or which knife to use for which course. She could be free. "Don't you like to travel?"

"Not really." He hesitates, picking up his crystal glass of wine and taking a slow sip. "It's sort of… scary. One minute, I'm standing in my kitchen in 2013 and then the world shifts around me and I'm standing 300 years in the past or future with nothing but the clothes on my back. And there's nothing I can do but wait to disappear again." It had never occurred to her to think of it like that and Alex shudders, wondering what she would do in a foreign land with no way home. "I mean, I've learned to control it somewhat and that can be brilliant – went to a Rolling Stones concert last month, their very first one. That was wicked."

Unsure why he's so excited about a bad concert of moving rocks, Alex decides to remain silent, fairly certain it isn't an important point anyway. "What about before you could control it?"

"I got hurt a lot." He shrugs. "That's what the medication was originally for – to keep me from going anywhere and getting injuries. I'm clumsy enough on me own." He grins at her, wide and self-deprecating. "But I forget to take it sometimes and that's why I learned to control it – at least I'll be somewhere safe, yeah?"

Swallowing hard and uneasy at the thought of this gangly, ridiculous man in danger, she only nods, resisting the urge to reach out and take his hand or smooth his hair again. Matt may not mind her offers of comfort but it isn't proper to touch a man who isn't her husband so freely, no matter how she might want it. "But you said you were napping when you came here. You can't control it in your sleep, of course." He shakes his head. "What caused you to travel here if you weren't

thinking of it?"

Matt takes another sip of wine and watches her do the same before he answers, eyes tracking the line of her throat as she swallows. "Well, from my experience, if I don't control it I tend to be attracted to big events. They sort of pull me in, like a magnet. Wars, revolutions, assassinations, the day my Gran died, me mum and dad's wedding day, the time my sister Lor was six and fell out of a tree trying to get my kite…"

"Trampling my garden was a big event?" she raises an eyebrow, amused.

He smiles back at her, eyes bright with mischief. "Must have been."

Laughing, she shakes her head, curls spilling over her shoulder. "Wars and weddings and my garden. I wonder what the connection is?"

Matt pops another grape into his mouth and mutters around it, "Guess we'll have to wait and see."

Her time traveler keeps appearing in her life at random intervals over the summer months, sometimes staying for only five minutes and other days for whole afternoons. On one memorable occasion, he doesn't disappear for two weeks and Alex has to sneak him into the manor and hide him in her vast closet. She carries him meals when no one is looking and entertains him as well as she can while still attending to her duties around the house.

She feels very much like a naughty little girl again, caring for the baby bird she kept under her bed and hoping her mother didn't find out. They talk and play chess and when she wakes one morning to find Matt gone, she's so glum for the rest of the day that Ralph doesn't go into town like he usually does, choosing instead to stay home and try to cheer her with his presence.

Matt always comes back though, and the assurance of that keeps her sustained. No matter how many days she has to wait, he always comes back in the end, driving her mad with his poor manners and ridiculous pet names. Like now, lounging on the settee with his shoes off, garish purple socks propped up on a cushion as he smokes another of Ralph's cigars. She doesn't think he even likes to smoke – he just enjoys using Ralph's things, the cad.

She wisely chooses not to comment, too content with her free afternoon. She'd been in better

spirits this morning and Ralph had taken the opportunity to venture out of the house and into town. She has no doubt his mistress has been longing to see him. "You're getting smoke in the fabric," is all she says.

"The windows are open," he protests, and as obstinate as he looks, she knows he would put out the cigar or stand outside to finish it if he thought it truly bothered her. She likes having something to complain about – it makes for conversation in the social circles she moves in. "And it's not like anyone smells it but you and me anyway. Does anyone else even use this room?"

She shakes her head. "It's only for my own use. Can't you tell? The furnishings are more comfortable."

He laughs softly and stubs out his cigar. "I did notice." Hopping to his feet, he wanders the room barefoot, those brash socks sinking into the plush carpet as he inspects knick-knacks and vases filled with bright flowers, humming obnoxiously in approval just to make her smile. He gestures to the walls. "Paintings in here are much better too. Prettier to look at it – your husband has an unfortunate love of battle scenes and portraits of scary, balding ancestors."

She hides an inappropriate giggle in her knitting and knows he isn't fooled. "Thank you. The artist is pleased to hear such high praise."

Matt turns on his heel and stares at her. "You what?" She smiles pleasantly and waggles her fingers, not even bothered when he follows it up with, "Are you fucking around?"

"Must you be so crude?" She's almost used to it by now but if she didn't complain, their entire relationship would just collapse in on itself from lack of order.

He sighs and offers her a contrite look that still manages to be smug. "I'm sorry, let me rephrase that. Did you, by any chance, Madame, create these lovely works of art or are you taking the piss?"

She rolls her eyes; fully aware it's probably the best she'll get out of him. "I painted every picture in here. A lady has to do something to keep herself occupied."

Matt wanders around the room again, more slowly this time, taking in every painting and studying them intently. It makes her feel nervous and she squirms in her seat, afraid she'll somehow be found wanting. Her paintings are nice enough, she supposes, but how can they possibly be compared to the things Matt must see all the time in his own future and in his travels? Silly

paintings of flowers and meadows and people couldn't possibly interest him. She fiddles with her knitting and listens to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room tick over the seconds until finally, Matt turns around and looks at her with a soft smile. "These are gorgeous."

She blinks, hopeful and unsure. "You think so?"

"They're incredible," he says, and he's still looking at her like he really means it. "You're incredible, Alex."

She begins to shake her head, flustered.

Matt is across the room and kneeling in front of her in seconds, his hands over hers on her knitting. Breath stuttering in her throat, Alex stares down at him, wide-eyed. "It's maddening, you know," he says quietly. "Watching you so unsure of yourself all the time. They may act like they're the superior ones, but you stand head and shoulders above every damn one of them and it's a bloody crime against humanity that you can't see it."

Heart pounding and blood rushing in her ears, Alex blinks away tears and swallows thickly, unable to think of anything adequate to say. Instead, she reaches out a hand and cups his cheek, inhaling quietly at the feel of stubble beneath her palm. Matt tilts his head, nuzzling into her with his eyes shut and she smiles softly, stroking her thumb beneath his eye. "Thank you," she finally manages. "You're a good friend, Matt."

His smile is more of a grimace and he opens his eyes but doesn't look at her, turning his head. Already feeling the blush heat her cheeks, Alex lets him catch her hand in his and kiss her fingers, his lips warm and soft against her skin. "I take what I can get," he murmurs.

Placing her hand back in her lap, he gives her another half-hearted smile and retreats back to the settee. Alex watches him go, her whole body trembling with some unnamed feeling, a need like no other. It confuses her and frightens her, and she does her best to cover the tremor in her voice as she speaks. "You could take one with you." She curls her hands into her skirts and manages a cheery tone despite everything, hoping he won't notice how he affects her with a glance, a touch, a few words. Even her own husband doesn't incite such a reaction. "A painting, I mean.

Something to remember me by when you're gone."

If anything, Matt only looks more troubled than he had before but he forces a smile. "I wish I could, sweetheart." She doesn't even have time to be secretly thrilled by the new pet name before he continues, "But it's the same as when I arrive. I can't take anything back with me when I leave

– trust me, I've tried. Just the clothes on my back."

"Oh." A sinking feeling in her stomach, she glances down at her lap, curls tumbling into her eyes, and wonders when she started hoping one day she might go with him and see the strange world he came from. "Of course. I'm sorry."

His smile fades and they regard each other silently from opposite sides of the room. Warm hazel eyes are fixed on hers and she thinks maybe Matt is sorry too.

He disappears not long after, leaving her alone in her sitting room and listening to the ticking of the clock in the corner once more. She doesn't see him for a few days and in the time spent on her own, she begins to formulate a plan. It might not work and she's absolutely certain she'll be thought mad, but she only has to think of the look on Matt's face when she offered him a painting before she goes through with it anyway.

Months ago, Ralph had donated quite a few of their paintings to an art gallery in town – more for the prestige of having his name on a placard next to the donated artwork than for any real charitable feeling – but she's glad now that he had. There had been a rather remarkable portrait of her in the donated art, something she'd had commissioned as a wedding gift when they married. Even Ralph had thought it captured her likeness with alarming accuracy. He said he couldn't stand to have it in his study – two of his wife always watching him was more than he could handle.

It only takes a visit to their solicitor and a substantial bribe to get the necessary paperwork accomplished and she leaves his office with a hopeful smile, waiting for Matt's next visit. She doesn't have to wait long.

Two days after she made the arrangements, she sits in her garden with a glass of lemonade and a parasol. It's a humid morning and she imagines the heat will only get worse as the day wears on. Ralph has been in bed all day, declaring the heat too much for his delicate sensibilities, but Alex likes it far better than the harsh winter she knows will follow. Sunny days have always been kind to her.

"How did you do it?"

Startled, she turns and finds Matt standing just behind her, tears in his eyes. Her own eyes fill up and she smiles, luminous. "It arrived safely then?"

He nods wordlessly, staring at her like he's never seen anything so fascinating in his life. Considering Matt's life, she finds it quite the compliment. "There was a delivery and I -" He stops,

shaking his head. "I don't have long. I can feel it."

Alex stands instantly, carefully setting aside her parasol. "It's alright. I -"

He crosses the distance between them in two long strides and before she can utter another word, he draws her tightly into his arms and bends his head, crashing his mouth against her own. She inhales a startled breath, her eyes fluttering shut. His lips are warm and soft against hers, gently but insistently coaxing her mouth open. Helplessly melting into his broad chest, Alex parts her lips and allows his tongue to slip inside and slide wetly against her own. He tastes like - oh lord - he tastes like sweets and tea and dust in sunlight. He tastes like days gone past and days yet to come. She curls her fingers tightly around the collar of his shirt and whimpers.

"Oh, you magnificent woman," he breathes, breaking away to press fervent kisses to her jaw, her forehead, her cheeks. She keeps her eyes shut, relishing the feel of his clumsy, tender hands on her face, her hips, sliding over silk. "How did you do it? A portrait of you – I'll cherish it always, do you understand? Every single time I look at it. It's a poor substitute but it's you, Alex. You'll never understand what you've done, you beautiful, precious -" He kisses her again, hard and desperate, as if he's afraid she'll slip through his fingers. Overwhelmed tears slipping from closed eyes, she holds onto him with all her might and wishes it could be enough. "Alex -"

He doesn't even get to say goodbye this time.

One moment, she's clutching his shirt and she can feel his hot breath on her cheek and the next he's gone and she stands alone, reaching for a man hundreds of years away from her. Chest heaving and lips tingling, Alex wraps her arms around her middle and shivers in her sunlit garden, suddenly cold.

closer to the time when you're coming back

Chapter Summary

Eyes on hers, he bows politely and she offers a curtsy, feeling a little silly for the charade. "Lady Fiennes," he murmurs, the sound of his voice sending a frisson of warmth up her spine. "Might I have the honor of the next dance?"

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from The Distance by Evan and Jaron.

She tries to forget, going about her days as usual and never letting on that anything has changed, but rarely does a moment go by in which Alex isn't thinking of that one forbidden kiss. She lies awake at night with her fingertips pressed to her lips as she tries to recall the vivid slide of Matt's mouth over hers and the way he'd tasted on her tongue. She thinks of it in the middle of embroidering by the fire and only the prick of a needle piercing her skin draws her from her thoughts. She thinks of it in the middle of dinner and blushes, oblivious to Ralph's questioning glances.

Had it been only the excitement of the moment that made Matt hold her like that? She doesn't believe so – he just doesn't seem like the sort of man to take advantage of a married woman for no reason. She trusts Matt – Matt is her friend, and he'd never hurt her that way. But what about her? She kissed him just as enthusiastically. She still feels warm just thinking about it.

As much as she'd wanted it then and as much as she wants it still, she had no right to touch Matt that way or allow him to touch her. She's married – and not that it seems to matter much to Ralph, but she took vows and meant to uphold them. It's only when she said I do, she certainly hadn't counted on an odd, wonderful man dropping from the sky and claiming he was from the future. There had been nothing in her vows about that.

She struggles between guilt at breaking her marriage vows, petulant reasoning that Ralph had already done so, and the happy flutter in her chest whenever she thinks of the way Matt held her like he'd never let go. It doesn't get any easier to decide what the right thing is and she distracts herself with teatime and luncheons, charity work and her gardening. When Ralph asks her to begin planning another ball, she could kiss him for giving her something else to do. She throws herself into the preparations with gusto, making it the finest, most extravagant ball of the summer season.

Standing in the middle of the room and talking pleasantly with her guests, Alex pauses just long enough to glance around at her work with a satisfied little smile. It's a marvelous turnout. Even Ralph looks pleased, catching her eye from across the room and nodding. She'd worn his favorite dress tonight, a silk velvet dress the color of jade. It brings out her eyes and the flush of her cheeks and he'd bought her earrings to match. He'd been so happy with her cooperation that he hadn't scolded her for leaving her hair down again. She doubts he approves, but her husband is learning to pick his battles.

"Have you heard, Alex?" Cornelia deLisle – wife of an earl, Alex remembers idly, thin as a skeleton and just as ghastly to look at – smiles at her excitedly, the harsh red line of her mouth curled in that telltale way that preludes a juicy bit of gossip. "The Ingram's eldest daughter – not yet old enough to be out in society – has fallen…" she lowers her voice, hissing, "pregnant."

For once, Alex doesn't have to feign her gasp. "No – but she's only a girl!"

Cornelia nods, clearly relishing being the first to tell Alex. "It's supposed to be very hush-hush, but positively everyone knows about it. Apparently, they've sent her away to have the child and she'll come back when it's all over but I don't know why she'd bother returning – her life is over now." One hand wrapped around the stem of her champagne glass, Cornelia uses the other to reach out and pat Alex's arm. "The whole thing made me think of you, poor darling. That brat can have a child but you can't."

Alex manages a tight smile, hoping she looks forlorn rather than tight-lipped and angry at the reminder. "Well, I suppose it's not meant to be."

"Yes, but it's awful just the same." Cornelia sips her champagne and squeezes Alex's arm briefly. "Perhaps you should contact the Ingrams' and let them know you're interested – they might sell the babe to you if you offer the right price. I suppose it isn't the same as having your own but it's better than nothing at all, hmm? Ralph would be so pleased. I know he'd love a boy to spoil."

Frozen smile in place, Alex nods complacently. "I'm sure he would but I'm afraid he'll just have to settle for spoiling me instead."

Cornelia laughs, delighted. "Oh, you lucky thing. He simply adores you, you know."

Alex sips at her champagne to avoid a reply, nodding mindlessly instead.

Opening her mouth to no doubt continue singing Ralph's praises, Cornelia stops suddenly and

stares over Alex's shoulder. "Oh." She fans herself with a delicate hand, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Oh my."

Alex raises an eyebrow at the dramatics, eager to latch onto anything that will change the subject from herself. "What is it?"

"Fresh meat, my dear." She nods across the room and Alex turns curiously, wondering who on earth could incite such a reaction in a woman like Cornelia. She doesn't get excited about anything but a scandal. Her heart begins to race, her stomach drops, and the moment her eyes focus on the young man making his way through the ballroom, she realizes Matt is a scandal all by himself – a virtual stranger to everyone in this room but her, a handsome man in an expensive suit headed right for her. Cornelia pinches her arm and hisses, "Good lord, he's looking right at you. Who is that lovely creature, dear?"

"I- I don't know," she manages, eyes still locked on Matt. He looks stunning in that suit, though his cravat is a little crooked. She's never seen him in anything but his own clothes, those jeans she's become almost fond of and those terrible shirts and colorful socks. If not for his short hair, he'd looked like he belonged and while he looks very handsome, she finds she doesn't like that he fits in so well. He is her time traveler from the future and she feels oddly possessive of him – this world is not supposed to touch him. She wants him to always look like Matt.

By the time he reaches her, nearly everyone is staring, including Ralph, but Alex can't bring herself to care what anyone thinks when Matt is standing in front of her smiling like that, saving her from this mindless drivel the way she always imagines he might. Eyes on hers, he bows politely and she offers a curtsy, feeling a little silly for the charade. "Lady Fiennes," he murmurs, the sound of his voice sending a frisson of warmth up her spine. "Might I have the honor of the next dance?"

She bites her lip to contain a giggle, nodding. "You may, sir."

The stares they've attracted are nothing compared to the moment he finally sweeps her onto the dance floor, away from her friends and their endless questions and Ralph's suspicious gaze. The waltz is still a relatively new dance and most consider the physical contact rather shocking but Ralph had been insistent that it be played – he loved staying abreast of the latest fashions and dances, shocking or not. Hand in Matt's as she allows him to lead her around the dance floor, Alex wonders if her husband is regretting that decision now.

The music swells around them and almost everyone else has decided to stop staring long enough to join in, so Alex finally allows herself a smile and Matt purses his lips in an effort not to join her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "What are you doing here, you great idiot?"

"Oi, is that any way to greet a man who traveled across dimensions to see you?" He squeezes her hand in his teasingly and she shakes her head as they glide across the floor. "How was I to know you'd be having another bloody party? And I certainly couldn't pass up the chance to dance with you." He winks and she blushes, her gaze flickering over his shoulder to see Ralph still watching them closely. "What do you think of the suit?"

"Very dashing," she admits, looking up at his smug face. "You certainly came prepared."

"Hardly." His grin widens and he whispers conspiratorially, "I stole it out of your husband's closet."

"You -" She gasps and hisses, "Matthew."

Matt looks entirely unapologetic and upon closer inspection she realizes that yes, those are definitely Ralph's cufflinks. "What? He's a bloke – he isn't going to notice." He frowns, glancing at their feet. "Trousers are a little short though."

"You are mad," she says, smiling through clenched teeth.

He clucks his tongue. "Don't pretend you don't love it, little Miss Manners."

Choosing not to reply because anything she says will only be confirmation to him and he's smug enough as it is, Alex focuses on the dance instead, heart sinking when she realizes how close they are to the end already. Matt is surprisingly capable, sweeping her around the floor and the other dancers with practiced ease. "Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"Who says I had to learn? Maybe I'm just a natural?" At her raised eyebrow, he huffs. "My sister taught me, if you must know."

"Pass along my thanks, then. She saved my poor toes." She laughs at his insulted face, bright enough and loudly enough to attract more attention to themselves but she doesn't care. Matt is here on the dance floor with her, holding her in front of everyone. Nothing can take away the giddy lightness in her chest. "I'm glad you're here."

He nods, the hand on her hip squeezing gently. "You're the most gorgeous woman in this room, you know. And I bloody love your hair like this – it looks like one of those lions in the jungle."

He grins when she scoffs, shaking his head. "Don't let them tame you, Alex."

"I won't," she promises, and meets his eyes meaningfully. "Not as long as you're here to help fend them off."

"Always," he swears, and gives her a pained, contrite smile. "But I think it's almost time to go for now – I wasted a lot of time changing."

She laughs despite the twist in her stomach at the thought of letting him go away. "It's alright, I forgive you."

"Alex," he says, voice low and urgent as the waltz slows to an end. "I'm sorry about the last time I was here, I just -"

Her breath catches painfully. "Do you regret it?"

His response is instant. "Never. But you're married and I don't even belong here. It isn't fair to you. I shouldn't have -"

"I don't regret it either," she assures him, and the moment the words are out of her mouth, she knows they're true. She's been wrestling with her guilt over that kiss since he left but now, in his arms and looking up at him, she knows she wouldn't change it if she could. "Not even a little."

Around them, the other dancers are bowing and bidding each other adieu but Matt clings to her hand and looks at her like one step away from her might kill him. "I'll be back," he says softly. "And we'll talk, okay? I just, I'm sorry – I have to go before I disappear in front of all these people."

"I understand," she says, and struggles not to let her eyes well with tears, not here. "Go."

Without another word, he bends and kisses her hand like a gentleman. Alex bows her head in a curtsy as his fingers slip away, the back of her hand tingling where his lips had touched. When she looks up again, Matt is moving swiftly through the ballroom, swallowed up by the crowd. She watches just long enough to make sure he gets out of the room without disappearing mid-stride before walking off the dance floor, avoiding eye contact with everyone but still feeling their stares on her back.

A hand grabbing her elbow the moment she reaches the safety of the punch bowl is not surprising but she flinches anyway when Ralph brushes his mouth over her ear. "And just who was that man?"

"No one," she says, and shifts out of his grasp without glancing at him. "Just an old friend."

"You've never mentioned an old male friend," he says, eyeing her. "Was he a suitor? Your lover?"

"Does it matter?" She hedges and glances around to make sure no one is listening. "He lives far away. He was just visiting."

Ralph sniffs disdainfully but visibly relaxes. "You certainly made the right choice, my dear. His trousers didn't even fit properly."

Alex bites the inside of her cheek to contain a smile.

"Look at you – you look like a bloody china doll. We can't possibly go anywhere with you looking like that!"

He'd only just appeared in her garden and though the first thing he says is a little insulting, Alex is still delighted to see him. He'd promised her they would talk and she plans on making him keep his word. Ignoring his first sentence and his scowl of disapproval entirely, Alex lights up at his last words, bouncing a little. "We're going somewhere?"

His mouth twitches at her excitement and he nods once. "But you have to change first. The simplest dress you own – nothing fancy. And if you can nick a pair of Ralph's boots, that would be perfect."

It's a strange request but she's used to his little quirks by now, pushing him into a chair in her sitting room and hurrying off to do as he asks. She finds a plain, white cotton gown all the way in the back of her wardrobe and she slips into it quickly, searching until she finds the old boots she used to wear in the meadows near her childhood home. She hasn't had much use for them since

she moved here with Ralph but she has a feeling they're perfect for whatever Matt has planned.

She leaves her hair down entirely, relishing the feel of bouncing curls slipping over her shoulders and down her back. When she reappears in the sitting room, Matt has moved to the mantle, tapping his fingers restlessly against it. He looks up when she clears her throat and does a little twirl, biting her lip. "Will I do?"

He nods wordlessly, lips parted as he stares at her. "You – you look lovely, sweetheart."

She ducks her head to hide a blush and plucks at her skirt. "It's certainly more comfortable than what I usually wear."

He snorts. "Anything is more comfortable than what you usually wear."

"Can I know where we're going now?" She glances up and finds him holding out a hand to her. Without hesitation, she takes it, letting him pull her out the door and into her garden. They wind their way along the path, through rosebushes and hedges and even the little pond in the center of it all until they're out of her garden entirely and heading toward the wooded area beyond it. Unable to stand it as he leads her along silently, Alex asks again, "Darling, where are we going?"

"Patience," he chides, glancing at her teasingly. "You'll see."

She frowns.

"You trust me, don't you?"

"I'm walking into the woods alone with you, aren't I?" she asks, clinging to his hand when she nearly trips over a rock. "Do you have any idea what people would think if they saw?"

"Ah, but you don't really care what people think, do you?" He phrases it like a statement rather than a question, as if he knows her far better than she knows herself. "If you did, you wouldn't have danced with a complete stranger at a ball."

She smiles, traipsing with him through foliage and underbrush, snapping twigs under her heavy boots. The hem of her dress gets caught in a mess of thorns and she tugs at it, tearing the fabric a

little until Matt stoops to gently untangle her. She rests a hand on the top of his head for balance and can't resist rubbing a tender thumb over his scalp. He untangles her hem and stands, catching her hand in his, his eyes soft.

"Alright?"

She nods and laces their fingers together as they start moving again. "Ralph thought you were a former lover."

"Yeah?" Matt sounds delighted at the prospect, his smile devilish. "And what did you tell him?"

"I let him think what he liked," she shrugs. "It's not as if I could tell him the truth."

"What? That I'm a man from the future hopping out of my time to come back and woo his wife?" Matt waggles his eyebrows at her and she flushes, shaking her head. He turns serious instantly, stopping in front of a towering tree right in the middle of the forest. "I mean it, you know. I'm not so addle-headed that I forget to take my medication all the time. I purposefully don't take it because I want to come back and see you. The thought of seeing you gets me through most days – just knowing that you're here, waiting for me with a glass of whiskey or a picnic or, god, just a smile on your face."

She purses her lips tightly in an attempt to stifle the well of emotion but it doesn't work and she leans into Matt instantly when he cups her cheek in his hand. "I wait for you – I've been waiting for you since that first night. You're the one who gets me through my days, darling. You make it all bearable because I know you'll be back with another ridiculous outfit or a funny word I've never heard before and you'll look at me like I matter -"

He cuts her off with a kiss, his mouth soft and tender against hers and his large hands on her hips to draw her close. Alex frames his angular face in her hands and opens her mouth to his instantly, her curves melting into the straight lines of his body. He tastes just as amazing as he had the first time, and when her tongue snakes eagerly against his, he groans and holds her tighter. They're flushed and breathless when they finally part for air, clinging to one another. "You do matter," he whispers to the corner of her mouth.

"Only to you," she says, and presses her forehead to his chin. "But it's enough. It's more than enough."

Matt kisses her forehead and slides a hand up and down her back soothingly. "I've been

practically everywhere, you know. Everywhen. And nothing really touched me until the first time I looked up and saw your face." He laughs quietly, gripping her just a little tighter. "That horrified expression when I stepped all over your roses."

"It was very rude of you," she grumbles.

"A terrible first impression," he agrees, still laughing. "But I made up for it, didn't I?"

She shakes her head, tilting her face up to grin at him impishly. "I've just grown used to you and your boorish tendencies."

"Boorish?" His jaw drops and he looks mortally offended. "I am not boorish, Lady Alexandra -" She dissolves into giggles and his face softens instantly but he manages a very admirable scowl nonetheless. "Fine, laugh away. But I'm not telling you my surprise."

She gasps, sobering immediately and latching onto his shirt. "No wait, I'm sorry. I want my surprise."

He sniffs and glances away, petulant.

Alex grins and strokes a finger down his cheek, triumphant when he shudders. "Please, darling? I really am sorry."

"I'm not boorish?"

She bites her lip and squints, thinking. "Well, I suppose not. I've been a very good influence."

He growls and draws her into him, ignoring her shriek of surprise as he kisses her neck roughly. She laughs, squirming in his arms and suddenly happier than she can remember being since, well, ever. She strokes her fingers through his hair and tries not to think about what will happen when he leaves, when being with Ralph in the interim is no longer bearable. Right now, she just wants to be happy. "Insufferable minx," he mumbles, and kisses beneath her ear before letting her go and stepping back with a gesture. "I brought you out here for this."

She looks where he points and her eyes follow the lines of the towering trunk all the way up,

branches twisting into the sky. Sunlight shines through the green leaves and seem to light them up from within, turning them golden and transparent. "A tree?"

He nods, rocking on his heels proudly. "We're going to climb it."

She looks at him sharply; hope welling up in her chest and spreading like wildfire. "Really?"

He nods, looking hesitant suddenly. "I mean, only if you want to. But I remember you talked about -"

Alex throws her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek soundly. "It's perfect."

For once, Matt is the flustered one and he attempts to hide the flush of his cheeks by taking her hand and leading her to the base of the tree. There are a few low hanging branches and he insists on helping her up and following behind her, promising not to use the opportunity to stare up her dress. The climb is slow and arduous but Alex enjoys the challenge and the chance to work up a sweat, using muscles she hasn't been required to use since she married. Matt keeps grumbling to himself about heights below her and the strain of actual fear in his voice makes her roll her eyes.

"You know, we didn't have to do this," she calls back. "It was your idea."

"I know," he says, pointedly not looking up in case he glimpses up her dress. The knowledge that he's actually trying not to look warms her heart. "But you like climbing trees."

She smiles widely. "You could have stayed on the ground and watched."

"And let you sit at the top and taunt me?" He scoffs. "I'd rather face my fear, thanks."

"Such little faith in me," she says, attempting to sound wounded as she holds tightly to a branch with one hand and stretches out on her tiptoes for the next one. "What have I done to deserve such ill thoughts?"

Matt snorts and doesn't dignify her with a comment. He keeps grumbling quietly to himself but Alex doesn't roll her eyes anymore, too warmed by his willingness to overcome his anxiety just for her to be exasperated. They make it nearly to the top before the branches start becoming too

weak to hold their weight and they settle onto a sturdy one together, legs dangling over the side and holding onto each other as they finally look down.

"Are you going to be alright?" she asks, watching Matt's pale face with amused concern. "Should we go back?"

He shakes his head quickly, clutching her skirt. "No, we'll stay for a while. Just don't let go."

She loops her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder. "Never."

He kisses the top of her head in gratitude. Gradually, he starts to relax as he gets used to being so high up and he looks out over the land appreciatively. "Quite the view, isn't it?"

She nods and doesn't let go of his arm, using her other hand to point out the manor and the other estates beyond it. From up here, she feels as free as a bird, away from the confining life she leads, her restrictive role as Ralph Fiennes' wife and all the social etiquette contained therein. She feels less like a prisoner and more like a queen surveying her kingdom, all laid out before her in miniature.

"And what about me?" Matt nudges her gently. "Where do I fit into this kingdom of yours?"

"You can be my court jester," she tells him, enjoying his undignified squawk of protest. He pouts and she kisses his nose, feeling light enough that a soft wind could just carry her away. "Or maybe I would let you be my personal servant."

"Hmm, I think I like the sound of that." He presses his lips to her ear and she shivers. "I could follow you about everywhere. Help you dress, assist you into your bath…"

"Matthew," she laughs, blushing at the images he conjures. "Honestly, where are your manners?"

"I don't have any," he says woefully. "I'm too boorish and uncouth."

"Poor darling." She turns her head to press her nose to his jaw. "Didn't your mother ever teach you how to talk to a lady?"

He shakes his head, smirking. "Too busy trying to keep me from disappearing in the middle of supper. I'd try to sometimes – when she was making me eat my vegetables."

Alex laughs brightly, imagining a much younger, adorable Matt struggling with all his might to travel far away from his broccoli. "Your poor mother," she says, still giggling. "You must have tried her patience."

"Frequently." He smiles. "You two would get along brilliantly."

She pauses, her laughter catching her in her throat.

He frowns, pressing his hand into hers. "Alex?"

"I'm fine," she says softly, shaking her head. "I just realized I'll never be able to meet your family."

Matt sighs, the light fading from his eyes. "Yeah."

She hadn't meant to ruin the mood - they were having such a nice time together and he'd gone to all this trouble to give her a special surprise away from everything she's grown to hate. "I'm sorry, I -"

"No, it's fine." He smiles faintly. "I just forgot for a second."

Alex sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and glances away, focusing on the horizon in the distance. "Are we being foolish?"

"Maybe," he admits softly, resting his chin on her shoulder. "But I can't stay away now. Not unless you ask me to."

She shakes her head and turns to look at him, her lower lip trembling. "I can't do that."

"Then we'll keep going as we are." Matt sets his jaw tightly and gathers her into his arms, cradling her to his chest and letting her cling to him. "We'll make it work, sweetheart. Somehow."

They sit in the tree for hours, holding each other close and talking quietly until the sun begins to go down and neither of them fancies walking back through the woods in the dark. Walking back hand in hand, they remain silent, both of them slightly morose since Matt had felt his hands starting to tingle – the first sign that soon, he'll be gone. It's twilight when they reach the edge of her garden once more and they stop right outside of it, lingering there in the fading light.

She sways into him and Matt holds her close, pressing his forehead to hers and looking into her eyes. "I'll be back soon," he promises. She nods wordlessly; too afraid her voice will tremble if she speaks. "I'll never leave you here, do you understand? I will always come back for you."

"And I'll always be waiting." She blinks away tears and nuzzles her nose against his, wishing more than ever she could just disappear along with him.

He smiles sadly and takes her hands in his, kissing her knuckles. "Until next time."

She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly to her, burying her face in his neck and breathing him in, the smell of the woods and the summer air still clinging to his skin. She inhales greedily, as if it's the last time, and when he fades from her arms, she stands in place for a long time, imagining his scent still lingers in the air around her.

should our fire turn to dark, take my heart with you

Chapter Summary

She makes it onto the terrace just as two of her gardeners reach it, dragging a limp Matt between them. Distantly, she recalls their conversation weeks ago, when she'd asked him about his travels. 'I used to get hurt a lot.'

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from My Heart With You by the Rescues.

Next time, everything changes.

After a restless night's sleep, Alex rises early feeling tired and on edge, though she can't begin to explain why. Something feels different today. She pushes aside the uneasy feeling and dresses silently in the early morning light, not bothering to ring for Cecily – she'd managed to dress by herself just fine for years. The rest of the house is quiet, the servants moving about silently in deference to their still sleeping master, but outside her window, Alex can hear her gardeners moving about, hoping to finish their work before the day becomes too warm.

Sitting at her vanity, she pins back half of her hair and leaves the rest down, pinching her cheeks in hopes of gaining a little color. She looks as tired as she feels and she sighs, turning to rummage through a drawer for the expensive little pot of rouge she keeps. She doesn't get the chance to apply any before the sound of a commotion outside stops her in her tracks.

Heart hammering because somehow she knows even without any proof at all, Alex leaps from her vanity and out of her room, skirts rustling noisily as she runs down the corridor, trips down the steps and nearly knocks over Mrs. Blackburn in her haste to rush out into the garden. She makes it onto the terrace just as two of her gardeners reach it, dragging a limp Matt between them. Distantly, she recalls their conversation weeks ago, when she'd asked him about his travels. I used to get hurt a lot.

"What happened?" she snaps, struggling not to reach out to Matt and grip him tightly to her.

"He just appeared, ma'am," says one of them, looking shaken. "Out of thin air."

Her hands shake and she hides them in the folds of her skirt. "Don't be ridiculous," she scowls. "People do not just appear. He probably stumbled onto the grounds when you weren't looking."

Matt's head lolls to the side and his eyes focus on her blearily. "Manners," he says, and she isn't sure if he's greeting her or reprimanding her.

She bites her lip and digs her nails into her palms as she takes him in, noting the blood on his shirt. "Get him to a room upstairs. I'll send for a doctor."

They drag Matt into the house and up the stairs, but Alex doesn't stay to watch, going to her writing desk and jotting down a quick note in a shaking hand. She gives it to one of the servants and sends them running for the nearest doctor but still doesn't move to go upstairs. She stands at the bottom of the staircase and curls her fingers tightly around the banister, struggling to breathe.

Mrs. Blackburn passes by with a raised eyebrow but doesn't bother to comment, clearly still miffed about Alex nearly knocking her off her feet a few minutes ago. Alex stops her anyway, reaching out a trembling hand to curl around the older woman's wrist. "Please wake your master and tell him we have a matter that needs his attention."

Mrs. Blackburn nods with a murmured, "Yes, ma'am," and bustles off to do her bidding.

Waiting until she disappears, Alex takes a deep breath and smoothes a hand over her corset before hurrying up the stairs. The thought of seeing Matt hurting and in pain is more than she can bear, but he needs her and she won't stall any longer. She searches the guest rooms on the second floor until she finds the one he's in, managing a cool, calm outwardly façade as she orders the gardeners from the room. "I can look after him until the doctor gets here," she says. "Thank you both for your help."

The two exchange glances before traipsing from the room, still muttering to each other about a man appearing out of nowhere. Alex shuts the door behind them and all but runs to the bed, tears springing to her eyes as she smoothes Matt's hair from his forehead. "Darling, can you hear me? Look at me."

Eyes still shut, Matt reaches shakily for her hand and she takes it, lacing their fingers together. "Date," he says haltingly, his whole frame stiff with tension. "What's the date?"

"Don't worry about it, darling. You're here, you're safe." She presses her lips to his hairline and tries not to touch him much, unsure what his injuries are. "I've sent for a doctor -"

His grip on her hand tightens until it feels like he'll crush all the bones of her fingers into fine powder and he manages to pry open his eyes, looking at her with a desperate, manic gleam. "Please. The date."

Hand aching and startled into silence, Alex blinks at him but finally stammers out, "It's the first of September. 1815."

His eyes fill with tears and he releases her hand instantly, all the fight leaving him at once. "So soon," he whispers brokenly, and turns his face away from her.

Puzzled, Alex strokes her fingers over his cheek. "What is, darling? What's soon?"

He shakes his head, still refusing to look at her.

She sighs. "What happened? You're hurt -"

"I'm fine," he says, voice hollow.

"Darling, you're bleeding everywhere, you couldn't even walk on your own -"

A soft knock on the door prevents her from questioning him further but she doesn't move from the bed, only glancing over her shoulder as the door creaks open. "Doctor Hawthorne," she greets, mustering a wan smile. "Please, come in."

She leaves the doctor to examine his patient in peace, offering Matt one last worried look before slipping from the room and out into the hall. Ralph is already waiting, still looking half-asleep but dressed for the day. "What's this about a man appearing out of thin air? Are the gardeners drinking again?"

"Probably," she says, and attempts a convincingly annoyed sigh. "But the man they found is certainly injured. He looks frightful, the poor thing."

"So long as he lives to pay for the house call," Ralph mutters, pacing the length of the hallway in agitation.

Alex offers him a withering look but inside, her heart leaps into her throat. Oh god, she hadn't even considered – he isn't that badly hurt, is he? Suddenly weak-kneed, she leans against the wall and attempts to draw in calming breaths. He was talking. He was relatively lucid. He'll be fine.

Ralph pauses. "What was he doing on our property anyway? You didn't recognize him?"

She shakes her head, hoping he'll never be close enough to Matt to realize he's the same man she'd danced with at the last ball. "Definitely not a neighbor. He must have been passing through, looking for help."

"Probably some sort of vagabond," he says, reaching into his jacket pocket for a cigar. "Decent men don't wander about bleeding everywhere."

"He isn't a vagabond," she snaps, glancing at him in irritation.

"And how would you know?" Ralph sticks the cigar between his lips and lights it, eyebrows raised as he looks at her.

Clenching her jaw, Alex glances pointedly away and they don't speak again until Dr. Hawthorne slips from the room carrying his medical bag and tucking his eyeglasses back into his pocket. Alex pushes away from the wall instantly, struggling not to take the man by the collar and shake him.

"How is he?"

"Sleeping," Hawthorne says calmly. "He'll need plenty of it if he wants to recover quickly. He'll need to stay put if it won't trouble you both to have a guest." Without looking at Ralph, Alex nods vigorously, eager to look after him. "He has a few bruised ribs but they'll heal well enough. I've dressed the knife wound in his shoulder -"

Her stomach drops. Knife wound?

"Knife wound?" Ralph echoes, sounding furious. "What sort of man have you brought into the house, Alexandra? No respectable gentleman has knife wounds! He's clearly trouble and he

cannot stay."

"No, he has to!" She turns on her husband desperately, already struggling not to cry. He hates it when she cries – it always irritates him. "Please, dear. We can't send him away – he isn't strong enough."

Ralph begins to shake his head.

She latches onto his jacket, curling her fingers around the lapel and looking at him pleadingly. "Just let him stay until he's well enough to leave on his own. I'll look after him myself, I promise. You won't be troubled."

After a long moment spent eyeing her with obvious annoyance, Ralph sighs and gives a terse nod. "Fine. But be sure he isn't a bother to anyone but you."

Grateful tears spring to her eyes and Alex nods hurriedly. "Yes, of course." She leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, murmuring, "Thank you."

Matt sleeps the rest of the day, likely due to the exhaustion of traveling coupled with the medicine Hawthorne gave him for the pain. She sits by his bedside with unwavering loyalty, getting up only to wet the cloth over his forehead or to fetch him another blanket. A servant brings her dinner and she eats it with one hand, the other holding Matt's tightly. She watches over him during the night, sleeping on the cot Mrs. Blackburn and Miles bring to her. They put it in the corner of the room but once they leave, Alex shoves it next to Matt's bed, close enough for her to reach out and touch him in the night, to reassure herself that he's still here and perfectly fine.

She doesn't sleep well, troubled by Matt's injuries and his delirious ramblings earlier. What had so distressed him about the date? She's never seen him quite so manic or so morose. The uneasiness from the morning never leaves her and she falls asleep with her hand still aching from Matt's vice-like grip on it, dreaming of all the horrible ways he could have sustained his injuries.

She wakes in the morning when someone squeezes her hand, opening her eyes to the sunlit guest room and Matt's face, his eyes tired and his smile half-hearted. Shaking off the remnants of sleep, Alex draws in a breath and scrubs a hand over her face, sitting up to swing her legs over the side of the cot. "How are you feeling?"

"Better," he says, still watching her with interest. "Thank you."

She shakes her head. "I didn't do anything."

"You took care of me, called a doctor." He smiles. "Made sure no one believed your gardener's story about a man appearing out of nowhere."

"That wasn't for you," she says lightly. "I have a reputation to maintain and strange men appearing in my garden at all hours would ruin it entirely."

He laughs cautiously, clearly wary of his bruised ribs. "I appreciated the effort, all the same."

Relieved that he seems to be in better spirits than he was the last time they spoke, Alex presses her palm to his warm cheek and directs his gaze to hers. He leans into her hand and meets her eyes reluctantly. "You scared me," she says quietly, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I mean it. You really frightened the life out of me, showing up like that."

He drops his eyes. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't do it again."

He can't promise that and she knows it but he nods anyway, swallowing hard. "I'll try."

It's as much as she'll get and she nods once, pursing her lips tightly. "What happened?"

His expression shifts instantly into a blank mask that looks so cold and unlike him that she almost pulls her hand from him, startled. "It was nothing," he says, and his voice sounds as distant and hollow as it had yesterday. "I accidentally traveled somewhere I shouldn't have, got into a bit of trouble."

"I thought you could control it now?"

"I can." He hesitates. " I wasn't thinking when it happened this time. I didn't even mean to go anywhere. I was just… stressed. It triggers my… ability."

He's hiding so much from her that she doesn't know where to begin, and her heart sinks in disappointment. She thought they were friends – more than friends now. She thought he told her everything, and he's so blatantly evading the truth that she can't help feeling hurt. "Why were you stressed?"

"Just the play," he says, shrugging, and she shuts her eyes at the lie. "And missing you."

She manages a thin smile and squeezes his hand. "Well I'm here now. Are you hungry?"

He shakes his head and pats the space next to him. "Sit here with me."

"I can't, darling. You're not well and -"

"I'm not going to break, Alex." He sighs quietly, lifting his eyes to look at her pleadingly. "Please."

She hesitates only a moment before rising from the cot and walking around the side of his bed to slide in next to him, resting her head on his uninjured shoulder. Matt relaxes instantly when she presses herself against him, a contented noise in the back of his throat. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and breathes him in, reminding herself that no matter what he isn't telling her, he's here now and he's safe. It's the only thing that matters.

Carefully, Matt wraps an arm around her waist and turns his head, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I was in New York City," he says quietly, mouth brushing her hairline as he speaks. "It was sometime in the 1980s but I'm not sure. I didn't know how long I'd be there, so I just started walking. Got on a train. And apparently I looked wealthy to a few blokes." She curls her hands into the blanket covering his bare chest, careful of the bandage on his shoulder. "They weren't very pleased to find I didn't have any money for them."

Tears fill her eyes and she presses trembling lips to his throat. "Matt -"

"All I could think was that I really, really didn't want to die. Not without seeing you again." He tightens his hold on her waist and noses at her curls. "And before I knew it, I wasn't lying on the floor of a train car and bleeding out anymore. I was in your garden and I knew I could just let go. I knew you'd look after me."

She nods, stifling a soft cry. "Always."

"I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart."

"It's alright," she says, and this time, she really means it. She lifts herself up on her elbows to look at his face, at those hazel eyes wet with tears, and strokes her fingers over his cheek, giving him a watery smile. "We needed a little excitement around here, hmm? It was getting far too dull."

Matt snorts but his smile is relieved as he draws her down to him, capturing her mouth in a soft kiss. She threads her fingers through his short hair and sighs, lips parting to let him in. She isn't sure how long they'll have before he disappears again and she won't waste the time they have by being upset. There'll be time for that when he's gone.

She leaves his arms only to change her dress and fetch him something to eat, carefully balancing a bowl of soup and a cup of tea on a tray. Matt makes for a stubborn patient, insisting he can feed himself when she tries to lift the spoon to his lips. "I'm injured, not a child," he says, scowling as she places the tray on his lap.

"That's debatable," she murmurs, and crosses the room to sink into an armchair and watch him struggle.

At least, she intends to watch him struggle until he asks for help like a grown man, but the moment he tries to lift the spoon to his mouth and grimaces, she's on her feet and crossing to the bed again, scolding as she goes. "Honestly, would it kill you to accept a bit of help? You're allowed to be weak every now and then." She settles onto the edge of his bed and snatches the spoon from his grasp, glaring at him until he settles back against his pillows and pouts. "You said you knew I would take care of you, so let me, darling."

It takes two grudging spoonfuls of hot soup before he sighs and looks at her with those big, contrite eyes. She melts a little on the inside and struggles not to show it outwardly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be difficult." He opens his mouth obediently for another bite. "It's just – I hate this. Being here with you, alone in this room, and I'm stuck in this bloody bed."

She raises an eyebrow. "And are you implying there are other things you'd do with me alone in a room?"

"Lots of things," he says lowly, eyes flaring brightly.

She flushes, dropping her eyes to his soup bowl. "Honestly, darling. Manners."

"To hell with manners, I want you." He grumbles, fingers sliding over the silk of her skirts with intent. She smacks his hand away with the spoon and he yelps. "What's that for?"

"You're being coarse," she says, willfully ignoring the mad fluttering in her stomach. Her corset suddenly feels too tight and her skirts too heavy. Her skin feels warm and flushed, and she draws in a steadying breath. "Show a little restraint."

"Alex," he whinges.

"You're injured and in no condition to do anything but eat this soup." She holds a spoonful up to his lips expectantly, "Now open."

Twitching fingers still dangerously close to the hem of her dress, he asks, "What's in it for me?"

"Your good health isn't enough?" She laughs when he shakes his head stubbornly. Putting the spoon back in the bowl, she leans in close and brushes her lips softly over his, tasting salt from the soup as he cups a hand around the back of her neck and keeps her close, mouth opening to plunder hers. She whimpers quietly and pushes him away with reluctance, mindful of the bowl on her lap. "Not until you've eaten."

"And after I've eaten?" he asks, smirking.

Her stomach floods with heat at that devilish grin and she takes a moment to steady her hands, wondering why on earth it had never felt like this with Ralph. Is this how it was supposed to feel when one was attracted to one's partner? It's all so new and strange she can't help feeling slightly terrified, in an exhilarated sort of way. "After you've eaten, you'll have a bath."

He eats every single bite without complaint.

Alex stokes the fire in the room's hearth and sends Ralph's footman to fetch the bath and Mrs. Blackburn to get a pitcher of hot water. It won't do for Matt to soak with his shoulder injury. She doesn't want to risk him wetting the bandage. When they have what they need, she shuts the door again, sending the servants on their way with a murmur of thanks. Ralph would probably prefer

one of them to perform this task but Alex is determined to be the only person to take care of Matt

– especially when it comes to this.

She helps him stand while studiously avoiding the sight of his bare chest – not because she does not want to look but because there is still a part of her insisting it isn't right or proper to see a man who isn't her husband without his clothes on. She keeps an arm around his waist and he wobbles for a moment before finally gently pushing her away to stand on his own two feet. She hovers for a moment anyway, just to be sure, and he huffs. "I'm fine, love. I swear."

Nodding nervously, she drops her hands to the waistband of his trousers and begins to fiddle with the button. Matt sucks in a quiet breath through his teeth and she pauses, glancing up curiously. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he says, managing a tight smile. "Just never thought the first time you'd see me without trousers on would be when you're treating me like an invalid."

She flushes, dropping her eyes to focus on the fastenings of his trousers. "And what did you imagine instead?"

"Something much more romantic," he grumbles.

"We can still have that," she says, easing her fingers into the waistband and tugging his trousers down. He kicks them off and she stands once more, suddenly unable to look anywhere but at her feet. "You don't have to count now."

"Alex," he says softly, and she hates how understanding he sounds. "You don't have to do this. You can call for a servant -"

"No, I want to." She lifts her head and meets his eyes. "It's just… I'm a little nervous but I'm fine." Just to prove her point, she slips her fingers into the waistband of his pants and watches his eyes flutter shut. She presses her lips to his chest, nuzzling his skin. "Now let's see all of you, hmm?"

"A bit unfair," he says, stepping out of his pants when she gets them to his ankles. "Maybe you should undress too and make me feel a little less awkward about the whole thing."

She laughs, standing once more and refusing to let her eyes drop below his waist. She doesn't

want the first time she sees him like this to be while she's bathing him – it should be special and as romantic as Matt had fantasized about. She'll try her best to give him that dignity at least. "Perhaps next time. Now step into the tub, please."

With a put upon sigh, he does as she asks while she turns to the dresser, picking up the pitcher of water and pouring some into the basin. "Miss Manners would never have allowed herself to be alone in a room with a naked man. My how you've changed. What has my influence done to you?"

"You give yourself too much credit, darling." She submerges the washcloth in the hot water and grabs the bar of soap, lathering it carefully. "Maybe I wasn't as innocent as you like to believe."

"Shh, don't tell me that." He dutifully holds out his arm for her to scrub. "I want to always believe it was my handiwork."

She smiles, sliding the washcloth over his bicep and silently admiring how muscular he is beneath those strange clothes. She never would have imagined it of a man so gangly. "I'm only teasing, darling. You've absolutely ruined me."

He hums, clearly pleased with the notion. "It wasn't easy. You were very dedicated."

She strokes over his chest with the washcloth, scrubbing gently and ever mindful of his bandage and bruised ribs. "As were you."

Grasping her soapy hand, Matt squeezes her fingers and smiles, looking at her as he has since he woke up this morning – like if he blinks, she'll be the one to disappear rather than him. She smiles back, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, and starts scrubbing anew. It doesn't take long to wash him and Matt is much more compliant than he'd been eating soup. She manages to finish before the water cools and wraps him in a towel, drying him gently and planting little kisses to bare skin as she goes. After helping him into a pair of Ralph's silk pajamas bottoms, she scrubs the towel over his hair, her nose brushing against his as she laughs. "You look very dashing like this. I think I prefer it to the suit."

Matt, who has been strangely quiet as she bathed him, wraps an arm around her waist to draw her nearer. The brush of his bare skin against the silk of her dress makes her breath catch. His mouth captures hers in a brief, hard kiss and she sways into him with a quiet whimper. "I want to see you so badly," he says hoarsely. "I want to know what you look like beneath those fine clothes, Alex."

"When you're better," she promises, attempting to sound firm but her voice shakes and gives her away. Matt leans in again with a groan, slanting his hot mouth over hers. She doesn't try to protest again, dropping the towel from her hands to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing her curves against the hard planes of his body. Matt slides a hand from the small of her back to cup her bottom, his rough grip somehow still reverent. She gasps softly, teeth sinking into his lip, and Matt growls in the back of his throat.

He stumbles toward the bed with her help, dragging her with him when he eases carefully back onto the mattress. His kisses are relentless but each one different from the last – rough and hard enough to leave her breathless, then so soft and tender it brings tears to her eyes as she reaches up to cup his face in her hands.

"Did you enjoy it?" he asks, easing her beneath him and hovering over her. She can feel his hand clawing at her skirts, dragging them up her legs and, good lord, she shouldn't be doing this, but she wants it more than anything. She can't remember ever wanting a man to touch her the way she wants Matt to. "Did you enjoy it when he touched you?"

She shakes her head, already panting as his hand finds it way beneath her petticoats, warm fingers stroking up her bare thigh. "It – it was never like this. I never understood why people liked it so much."

Matt presses a series of rough kisses down her throat, his stubble rubbing the skin raw. "I'll show you," he promises gruffly. "As soon as I'm capable, I'll show you just how good it can feel, sweetheart."

Alex shakes her head again, hips canting into his touch, and even as she blushes at her own boldness, she pleads softly. "Show me now."

He lifts his head from sucking at her collarbone to look at her, his eyes dark and his red lips parted in surprise. "You – are you sure?"

She nods, biting her lip. "I want you to be the last man to touch me."

Her breath stops at the first brush of his fingers through her folds and she looks up at him with wide eyes as a rush of heat overwhelms her, sure that something must be wrong. Is she supposed to tremble like this? Matt drops a reassuring kiss to her cheek and draws circles over her entrance teasingly with his fingertips, sliding up to brush her clitoris lightly. Her hips jerk and she gasps in surprise, mortified. Matt only chuckles softly, looking delighted, and repeats the motion again and again until her shaking thighs feel damp and his fingers are slick with her.

Never in her life has she felt such base need – such blatant desire. She flounders in this new feeling, lost and adrift, grasping for something, anything to hold onto. Her hand finds Matt's unoccupied one and she grips it tightly. He presses his mouth to her ear and whispers how beautiful she is like this, spread out beneath him, so trusting and undone. "It's alright," he breathes, and she shudders. "I've got you, sweetheart. I'm taking care of you."

His quiet, low voice coupled with the sudden sensation of his long, clever fingers sinking inside her and spreading her open is enough to unravel her completely. She tosses her head back against his pillow, curls tangled around her face as she drags in lungfuls of air desperately. The scent of Matt, the expensive soap she'd bathed him with and the smell of her own sex washes over her like an aphrodisiac.

She whimpers Matt's name, her grip on his hand like a vice. He pumps his fingers inside her, a slow, delicious burn as he takes his time. He draws out to stroke through her wetness, slicking over her clitoris once more before delving deeply back inside. His fingertips map her every weakness, using them all against her to make her moan breathlessly. He presses feverish kisses everywhere he can reach, still talking between each and every one – beautiful, filthy things that might have made her blush once, and still might, when the heat of the moment has passed.

She can barely breathe, fingers curled tightly in the sheets until her knuckles turn white and ache with the strain. She twists her hips, grinding down shamelessly on Matt's hand. Sweat collects beneath her corset and her shift, and she feels flushed and unkempt, like something wild and entirely uncivilized but, god, she is enjoying herself far too much to care about such things anymore. Matt presses the heel of his hand hard against her clitoris and suddenly absolutely nothing else matters but the way her tension-filled body snaps like a dam breaking, flooding her whole being with the most unimaginable heat. Her stomach muscles contract, her sex flutters around his fingers and she can hear nothing but glorious, blessed silence as the world around her fades.

Matt swallows her scream in a deep kiss.

these miles have torn us worlds apart

Chapter Summary

Matt had insisted on getting out of bed after breakfast and she'd agreed because it was the only way to get him to eat anything. He leans on her occasionally but only for a moment, and then he's walking upright again, arm in arm with her. "Paris in the 1920s was definitely a good one. You'd love the dresses. Or maybe I would just love you in them."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from the Lifehouse song From Where You Are.

"Favorite place you've traveled?"

"Here."

She beams, glancing around furtively to make sure no one is looking, and plants a swift kiss to his cheek. "Other than here, I mean."

This morning, she'd woken up already smiling, curled around Matt with him snoring lightly into her hair. She'd felt a little embarrassed by her behavior last night – she was supposed to be taking care of him, not seducing him – but he keeps looking at her adoringly, touching her often, and gradually, she has started to feel a little less ashamed of herself. This comfortable tenderness, this inexplicable fondness and desire for the other person – this is what it should feel like between a husband and wife. She'd never realized it before. All she has ever known is Ralph and his aloof, calculated affections.

"Rome at the height of the Roman Empire was pretty incredible," he muses, obviously taking her question seriously. Alex watches him closely, looking for any sign of his growing fatigue. He'd insisted on getting out of bed after breakfast and she'd agreed because it was the only way to get him to eat anything. She supposes a stroll through the garden won't be too strenuous and perhaps even good for him but she frets anyway, ready to drag him back into the manor at the slightest hint that he's feeling tired. He leans on her occasionally but only for a moment, and then he's walking upright again, arm in arm with her. "Paris in the 1920s was definitely a good one. You'd love the dresses. Or maybe I would just love you in them."

She flushes, nudging him. "What did they look like?"

"Well, no corsets for one thing." He grins, halting beside a honeysuckle vine to pluck a flower from its place. There aren't many left, the approaching autumn and the chillier weather causing most of them to wither and fall from the vine.

"No corsets," she murmurs, fascinated by the concept. "What a lovely thing it must be, to be able to breathe."

He hums sympathetically and tucks the honeysuckle blossom behind her ear. "Lots of sparkles and lace too. People could even see your knees."

She gasps. "Matthew, don't lie. It isn't nice to tease me."

"I'm not lying!" he laughs, tugging her along gently. "And that's only the twenties. Blimey, I wish you could see what women wear in my time." He hesitates, watching her stroke her fingertips over the yellow blossom behind her ear. "Then again, maybe not. With your delicate sensibilities, you'd probably faint, and I'm in no condition to catch you."

"You're horrible," she says, smiling despite herself. "Tell me something else about the future."

"Well, we don't really have these fancy balls anymore." They reach a bend in the garden and happen upon the pond in the middle of it, and Alex sighs in relief. Matt will never admit it but he must be feeling a little tired by now. She drags him over to a bench by the edge of the water and coaxes him to sit.

"Just for a moment," she promises. "I want to rest."

Matt eyes her as if he knows this moment of respite is more for him than for her.

Alex smiles brightly. "So no balls? No one enjoys dancing in the future?"

"We do," he says, willing to let her win just this once. "We just prefer to dance in clubs now. They're darker and louder and people wear less clothes. And they drink a lot of alcohol with

horrible names like the screwdriver and sex on the beach."

She blushes, settling on the ground in front of him to dangle her hand in the water. "That sounds ghastly."

"You would hate it," he laughs fondly, reaching out to tug playfully at one of her curls. "God, I would love to take you just to see the look on your face."

Huffing, she lifts her hand from the pond and flicks water at his face, giggling when he yelps. "Don't be rude."

He wipes at his face with his sleeve and doesn't attempt to retaliate, watching her with that soppy grin he's had on his face ever since he woke up beside her this morning. "I really would, you know."

"What?"

"Love to take you with me."

Alex nods once and turns to look out over the pond again, her chest aching with a longing never to be filled. "Don't, darling. Don't think on such things."

"I think about it every time I leave here and go back to my own time," he says softly. "Alone in my flat, my arms empty…" He sighs, sounding pained, but Alex can't bring herself to turn her head and look at him. She's afraid she'll cry if she does and burdening him is the last thing she wants. "If I could stay here forever, I would."

She bites her lip. "You'd leave your own time?"

"I'd live anywhere, leave anything behind, if it meant staying with you, Alex." He strokes a hand over her hair and she shuts her eyes, breathing in shakily. "Surely you know that."

She nods, pursing her lips. "Just as you must know I would leave everything here to be with you – no matter how horrid the future sounds."

He lets out a choked laugh, and she finally turns to see him pressing a hand to the wound in his shoulder. She leaps up instantly to fuss over him, pushing aside her own pain to deal with later as she leads him back to the manor.

"Would you please stop fussing?" He whinges, sitting on the bed back in his room as she kneels before him and tugs off his boots. "I'm fine, Alex."

"You won't be if you keep pushing yourself," she scolds, setting his shoes aside carefully. "You've had your walk like you asked, and now it's time to rest."

He frowns. "I'm not tired."

"Indulge me." She pushes gently until he reclines on the bed, feet up and head cushioned. Leaning down to smooth his hair and press a fond kiss to his forehead, she says, "Sleep. I'll be back soon."

She slips from the room only when she's sure he won't get up the moment she leaves, intending to change her dress and find a cup of tea. Halfway down the corridor, she meets Ralph walking up the staircase and he smiles. "There you are. I was just coming to find you."

"Is there something wrong?"

He shakes his head, resting a hand on the small of her back. "I feel as if I haven't seen my own wife in days – had I known I'd be forced into bachelorhood again while you look after that vagabond, I never would have agreed."

"I'm sure Mrs. Blackburn has been taking care of you adequately," she says stiffly, a little perplexed that he'd even noticed. Usually, he spends most days in town and doesn't care if he sees her until dinner or not. "I didn't think you would mind my absence."

"Well I mind very much," he says, kissing her hair. "You'll dine with me tonight – I'm sure your patient can feed himself for one evening."

Her stomach fills with dread and Alex struggles not to let it show outwardly. "But dear, he needs me -"

"Yes, and so does your husband." He huffs. "He'd be a very selfish man to keep you from me. Now do as you please for the rest of the day but at dinner, I expect to see you in the dining room."

She nods, deflating. "Yes, Ralph."

He presses a kiss to her temple. "Good. Now I have some business to attend to in town but I'll see you later."

The moment he disappears back down the stairs, Alex retreats to her room quickly before she gives in to the urge to run back to Matt and disturb his sleep. Ever since he had arrived, she has spent every spare second with him, hating to leave him even to get them something to eat from the kitchen or change her clothes, all too aware that he could disappear without warning and she wouldn't even get to say goodbye. Even when he was only her strange friend, it had bothered her, but now that he is so much more, every second together matters. It could be weeks before she sees him again.

She forces herself to go about her business as usual, having the servants draw her a bath. She soaks in it until her fingers and toes prune, stepping out to let Cecily help her dress. She sits at the open window of her chambers and lets the cool air dry her curls, tapping her fingers anxiously. Matt needs time to rest and she won't wake him when there's nothing he can do to make her feel better.

Busying herself with overseeing the servants and her gardeners and all of her other duties, she manages to keep away from Matt's room until nearly dinnertime. Knowing Ralph will be home any moment, she slips away upstairs with a tray of food to find Matt lying awake and staring at the ceiling, looking bored.

"Did you sleep at all?" she asks, setting the tray on the table by his bed.

He nods, a smile curling his lips at the sight of her. "Woke up about half an hour ago, Mum."

She slaps his cheek lightly, raising an eyebrow. "Hardly an appropriate thing to call me, considering last night."

He gapes at her, hazel eyes wide. "My god, I really have corrupted you. You're not even blushing."

Pleased at the proud note in his voice, she smiles and leans in, pressing her lips softly to his. "A terrible influence, you are."

"I'll make a twenty-first century woman out of you yet," he mutters, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck to draw her closer.

Alex pulls away with a reluctant sigh and drops her eyes to his blanket. "Ralph wants me to dine with him tonight."

"Ah. I knew there was something." He brushes his fingers over her chin. "You had that look."

She raises her head with a frown. "I don't have a look."

"You do. You're doing it right now." He chuckles, threading a hand through her hair and kissing her cheeks and her eyelids. "It's adorable, you spoiled thing."

"Oh hush," she says, flustered. "He wants me there but just say the word and I'll stay here. I'll tell him you can't feed yourself or -"

"Alex, stop." He cups her cheek in his hand and brushes a tender thumb beneath her eye, smiling sadly. "As much as I want you with me always, you need to have dinner with him. He's your husband, sweetheart, and he's been very patient. I don't want to cause trouble."

She doesn't care. She doesn't care that Ralph is her husband, she doesn't care that he would be furious if she refused to have dinner with him, she only cares that Matt will be up here alone and she'll be downstairs pretending Ralph doesn't smell of some other woman's perfume. Curling her hands into his shirt, Alex presses her face into the crook of his neck and pleads, "Don't leave before I get back."

Matt lifts her chin and plants a hard, bruising kiss on her lips. "I'll be here. I promise."

Dinner with Ralph is tedious. Alex sits across from him and attempts polite conversation, though they rarely have anything to say to each other anymore. She listens as Ralph recounts the details of his trip to town, pretending she doesn't know that he's making up most of it as he goes along since he clearly can't tell her where he's really been.

"By the way, I ran into that horrible woman – the one you say talks like a common guttersnipe…" Ralph smiles as if her colorful turn of phrase had amused him but Alex detects the tightness around his eyes and watches him closely, suspicious. "What was her name again?"

"Francesca." She barely manages to swallow the bite of food in her mouth, feeling it turn to ash on her tongue. She forces it down her suddenly tight throat and reaches for her wine glass with a shaking hand. That horrid perfume that always clings to Ralph after his trips to town – nauseating and cheap, like a woman of ill repute – suddenly makes so much more sense now.

"Yes, that's the one." He actually manages to sound enlightened and she silently praises him for his skill even as her stomach attempts to rebel what little food she's managed to eat. "She requested an invitation to our first ball of the autumn season, if you can imagine."

Alex stiffens. "I won't have that woman within a mile of this house."

Pausing in the middle of cutting his meat, Ralph looks up with a frown. "You may not care for her, my dear, but she is not so different from you. You both come from similar backgrounds. The only different is she married a very old man and was unfortunate enough to lose him. She's a young widow -"

"She's forty-five," she snaps. "Hardly a spring chicken."

"Still much younger than her husband was." Ralph snorts and reaches for his wine. "Of course, I told her she would be invited. It won't do to exclude her."

Alex tosses down her cutlery on her plate and pushes it away. "I'm afraid I've lost my appetite." She pushes back her chair and stands. "If you'll excuse me."

Ralph stares up at her, stunned. "Alex -"

"Don't." She holds up a hand and looks at him furiously. "Do not speak to me."

Without another word, she turns on her heel and stalks from the dining room, managing a clipped, steady pace until she reaches the stairs. She runs up them and nearly trips in her skirts, hurrying

down the corridor to Matt's room with tears in her eyes. She doesn't care about his horrible mistress or what he does on his own time, but to bring that woman into this house and parade her about in front of his friends, as if he isn't carrying on with her behind Alex's back – it's more than she can bear with dignity and grace. To be treated so disrespectfully in her own home is the greatest insult Ralph could bestow.

The moment she walks into Matt's room and sees him lounging in bed, his finished dinner on the nightstand beside him, she bursts into tears. He scrambles to sit up, holding out his arms, and she walks right into them, sinking onto the bed next to him. She buries her face in his chest and struggles to get a hold of herself, shoulders heaving. "Shh," he says, stroking her hair. "What's the matter? What did he do?"

She shakes her head, clinging to his shirt. "It's nothing," she manages. "I'm fine."

"You're a shit liar, sweetheart." He settles back against the headboard, pulling her with him. His hand strokes up and down her back, his fingers threading soothingly into her hair. "Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk about him," she sniffles, kissing his neck. "I'm just so tired. I hate this house when you're not here. It's like a prison and he's my warden, able to come and go as he pleases, free to bed other women -"

"Wait, what?"

"Some horrible woman twice my age."

His grip on her only tightens and he presses a rough kiss to her temple. "He's a bastard."

She nods, wiping at her eyes hurriedly. "I don't even care about him, he can do what he likes. But he's going to embarrass me in front of everyone, inviting her to the next ball and, oh god, what if he throws me out? What if he moves that horrible woman in here instead? Where will I go -"

"Shhh." Matt pulls back to press his forehead to hers, fingers tight on her face. "Alex, he's not going to do that. Men like him – they don't want anyone to know about their dirty laundry, all right? He'll never toss you out for some classless tramp – what would happen to his reputation then? You're safe, I promise. Just breathe."

She struggles to obey, gripping his collar in her fingers. "I don't want to be here."

"I know." He brushes her curls from her forehead. "I don't want you to be here either."

But there is nothing either of them can do and it's always going to be like this, stolen moments whenever he appears, just a few minutes or a few hours to sustain them until the next time. She will never have anything stable with Matt. She'll never sleep through the night with him holding her without having to fear he'll be gone when she wakes. She'll never look up at teatime and find him already there, looking back at her. She'll never introduce him to her family and get to meet his. She'll never have children with his strange, otherworldly features and odd sense of humor. She will have laughter behind the hedges in her garden and stolen kisses in the privacy of the woods. She will have lonely nights and days spent waiting. They both will.

"You should leave," she says softly. "Find a woman capable of being with you all the time."

"What fun would that be?" he asks with a pained smile.

Alex shakes her head. "It isn't about fun."

"Then what's the point, love?" Just as last time, he doesn't let her answer but rather than disappear, he takes her face in his hands and draws her down for a kiss, his mouth hot and hungry as it claims hers. Alex melts into him, eager to feel something other than the ever-widening ache in her chest. She fists his short hair in her hands, pressing herself against him with a whimper. Matt nips at her bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, and she retaliates by stroking her tongue over his teeth and drawing patterns on the roof of his mouth. She scrapes her nails over his scalp and he hisses, his wandering hand cupping her breast and squeezing through her dress. She arches into his palm, easily undone by his every touch.

She still isn't sure of herself in these matters and Ralph, when they were together, was always in charge, domineering and selfish. Matt, on the other hand, seems content to carry on this way, making her dizzy with kisses and caresses. Alex craves far more than that from him, far more than she has ever craved any man.

Tearing her mouth from his, she struggles to catch her breath, licking swollen lips as Matt drops his head, mouthing and sucking greedily at her décolletage. "Darling, please."

He grips her hips tight enough to bruise and places one last kiss over her heart. "I'm not going to be here much longer," he says softly, voice raw with pain, and her heart clenches. "I can feel it."

Steeling her resolve, Alex drops a kiss into his hair and says, "Then let us have this before you go. Something to keep us warm."

Matt lifts his head, eyes searching her face intently. Whatever he finds in her gaze must satisfy him because he leans in to kiss her soundly. "Take off your clothes. I want to see you."

She climbs from the bed and leaves his arms with reluctance, and he helps her unbutton her dress. She slides it from her shoulders, leaving it a pile of expensive silk crumpled on the floor. She sheds her petticoats with his eyes on her, drinking her in with every new layer stripped away. If it were anybody else but Matt, she might feel self-conscious, but he looks at her with such desire and adoration that she can't feel anything other than eagerness to let him see her entirely bare, to show him she trusts him with every part of her.

She sits on the edge of the bed and he unlaces her corset with a tenderness that is entirely unlike Ralph's usual rush or Cecily's businesslike fingers. Matt's hands are clumsy but devoted, tugging her laces until she can breathe again. He presses kisses to her shoulders and strokes his fingertips over her spine.

Alex shudders and slips from the bed again, turning to look at him as she lets the corset fall to the floor, leaving her in only her thin shift. She has his full attention, those big eyes focused solely on her and a flush of desire on his high cheekbones. Slowly, she lifts the shift over her head and hears his sharp intake of breath as she lets it drop.

"My god," he says, sounding strangled, and she raises her head tentatively to find him looking at her with dark eyes, lips parted in awe. "You're even more beautiful than I'd imagined."

She flushes, suddenly shy.

He laughs warmly and holds out a hand. "Come here, sweetheart."

Though he tries to hide it, she sees him wince as he reclines on the bed, resting his head on his pillow. She clambers onto the mattress and straddles his lap, biting her lip in concern. "Are you sure we should -"

"I'm fine," he sighs patiently, big hands and clever fingers sliding over her bare skin with reverence. She shudders, eyes drifting shut as he cups her breasts, flicking his thumbs over her

nipples until they turn to hard points under his ministrations. He rolls his hips under her, the hard bulge in his trousers suddenly pressed right against her sex. She gasps, rocking back against him. "More than fine."

She nods hurriedly, reaching for the waistband of his trousers and undoing the fastenings. Matt manages to lift his hips enough for her to slide them down his hips to his knees. She pauses there, eyes drifting to his groin to take him in, since she'd done her best not to look when she bathed him. His erection curves against his belly, slender and red, and leaves sticky fluid on his stomach.

More than anything, she wants to touch him and without thought, she reaches out and curls her hand around him, relishing the delicious contradiction of his hard length and the velvety softness of his skin. Matt arches into the touch with a hiss through clenched teeth. She smiles, stroking a hand up and down, his arousal making her fingers slick. "Jesus, Alex," he pants. "I won't make it if you keep doing that."

She swirls her thumb over the head of his erection, idly wondering what he tastes like. Ladies aren't supposed to use their mouths on a man – only whores in brothels do that sort of thing – but Alex finds herself wanting to take him into her mouth, to feel him hot and heavy on her tongue –

"Oh god, Alex, stop." Matt groans, yanking her down for a rough kiss, and she realizes as she returns it with fervor that she'd spoken aloud. "Are you trying to make me travel? Bloody hell, that mouth." He kisses her again, nipping eagerly as he slips a hand between her thighs to stroke her. "So deceptively pretty."

Alex moans, grinding down on his hand as he rubs at her clitoris. "Oh god, darling, now -"

He nods, moving his hand to settle them both on her hips. "Yes." She takes him in hand and lifts her hips, lining him up with her entrance. Her mouth drops open and she throws her head back, curls spilling over her shoulders and a low, guttural moan leaving her throat as she sinks down slowly, her body stretching to take him inside. Matt clutches her to him, swearing under his breath as he slides all the way in. "You feel so good, sweetheart. So incredible, Christ - "

She whimpers, lowering her body to hover over his, placing her hands on either side of his head for balance as she begins to move, sliding up and down his length. Matt threads a hand through her curls and kisses her messily but she can't breathe or think or do on anything but feel as she moves steadily over him, moaning obscenely.

It's never felt like this. Nothing in her life has ever felt this good. Her senses are on overload – the slick friction between her thighs and the burn of her muscles, the smell of sweat and sex in the air, the taste of Matt's kiss still lingering in her mouth, and the hot stroke of his tongue as he sucks her

nipples between his lips. Her inner muscles tighten and she rolls her hips faster, lungs burning.

Matt releases her nipple, his hand finding her wrist and circling his fingers around it tightly. "Alex," he says shakily, a warning in itself. "I'm not -"

"No, not yet." Tears sting her eyes and she grits her teeth, forcing them back. "Don't leave me yet, darling."

And he tries for her, his jaw tight as he struggles to remain in the past with her. She has no doubt he's feeling that telltale tingle in his hand and she turns her head, kissing his knuckles. "Hold on," she whispers, pleading. He nods, beautiful and brave, clinging to her like she can anchor him here forever. She moves faster, though she wants nothing more than to make it last, to make him stay.

Matt rocks his hips against hers, pumping up into her wildly, and Alex cries out, hovering just on the edge of ecstasy. She slips a hand between her legs to find her clitoris, pressing down hard and rubbing in short, sharp circles. She falls apart with a final, trembling cry, her body arching and the rhythmic clenching of her sex gripping Matt's length tightly.

Exhausted, she keeps moving, her lips against his jaw as she coaxes him toward release. "It's alright, darling. Let go. I'm here." She kisses his throat and strokes a hand over his bare chest, biting back tears. "I love you."

Clutching her to him like something precious about to slip through his fingers, Matt turns his head and kisses her, a searing, desperate meeting of mouths that makes her heart sink. He's leaving her. With one final thrust of his hips, he spills deep inside her, leaving bruises where he holds her. He pants harshly against her cheek, kissing her flushed, sweaty skin. "I love you, Alex," he breathes. "I love you so much."

She nods shakily, reaching out a hand to cup his darling face, but between one blink and the next, he's gone. The sheets are still rumpled and warm, the scent of him and sex still lingers in the room, but she's completely alone. Alex curls into a ball in the middle of the bed and clutches Matt's pillow to her chest, tugging the blanket over her naked body as she finally lets the tears come.

my tired heart is beating so slow

Chapter Summary

Weeks pass and Matt does not appear. She tries not to be discouraged, knowing it isn't unusual for him to disappear for so long. He can't help when he comes back – it isn't something he can trigger purposefully. All he can do is not take his medication and hope.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Little House by Amanda Seyfried.

Weeks pass and Matt does not appear. She tries not to be discouraged, knowing it isn't unusual for him to disappear for so long. He can't help when he comes back – it isn't something he can trigger purposefully. All he can do is not take his medication and hope. But weeks turn to months, late summer turns to autumn and then to the dead of winter, and still, he does not return.

It grows too cold to wait for hours in her garden any more but for a while, she nearly lives in her sitting room, staring out the window and hoping to catch a glimpse of him clumsily climbing out from her rosebushes. As time passes, it hurts too much to even look upon the place where they spent so much time together and she stops looking, trusting that if he comes back, he'll find her.

She lies awake at night curled beneath her blankets, clinging to her last memory of him and imagining she can still feel his hands on her. She closes her eyes and tries to memorize the catch in his voice when he told her he loved her. For a while, it keeps her going. He loves her and he'd promised to always come back. He promised he wouldn't leave her here.

He promised.

"Are you planning to go out today?"

Alex glances up from her knitting to find Ralph standing in the doorway and for a moment, she can only blink stupidly at him. He never ventures into her private sitting room – ever. She hadn't realized he even knew the way. He frowns at her and she realizes she's still staring wordlessly and for the life of her, she can't remember if he'd spoken at all. "Sorry, what did you say?"

He sighs and folds his arms over his chest. "You've barely been out of the house since October. You need to see and be seen. Go to teatime, luncheons, organize a party. I don't care what you fill your days with but my god, do something beside sit here and stare uselessly into space!"

"I'm not staring, I'm knitting," she says simply, and drops her eyes back to the bundle in her lap. She's been at it for hours and only pricked herself with the needle a handful of times – quite the accomplishment. Matt would – no. "I don't feel like going out."

He shakes his head. "You never feel like going out anymore. I've tried to be patient, Alexandra, really I have, but you test even me. People are starting to think you've developed some sort of severe illness and are confined to your bed. There are rumors of -"

"You know very well I don't care about rumors," she snaps tiredly. The thought of mustering up the energy to dress in her finest, go into town and lunch with society biddies, to listen to them tell stories about their children as if they raise them rather than nannies and governesses, to smile politely all the while… Alex shudders. She hasn't the strength to do it anymore. She's tired of pretending.

"You used to care what people thought of you," Ralph points out, and she huffs derisively because her husband knows nothing at all about her. For his sake, and for the sake of her marriage, she tried as hard as she could to fit in and belong in this upper class world but never once did she truly concern herself with the gossip of these terrible, mindless, materialistic wretches. "What happened to the woman I married?"

She's a figment of your imagination and mine, she thinks. She was never really here and I am too tired and heartbroken to conjure her likeness to make you at ease. Out loud, she says calmly, "Perhaps if you spent more time here and less time in town, you would know."

Ralph stiffens, drawing up his frame and looking down his nose at her. "I have business in town."

"Yes, I know exactly the sort of business you have in town," she murmurs, still not looking up. She can feel the fury radiating from her husband in waves but she feels oddly distanced from it, as if nothing he says or does can touch her. What does it matter if he gets angry? What does it matter if he tosses her from the house? How can anything at all matter but the painful knowledge that the man she truly loves is gone and she can't even hope for his return? Everything else pales in comparison.

But she isn't thinking about Matt.

"How dare you suggest -"

"I'm not suggesting anything," she says calmly, and pauses in her knitting to give him her full attention. His blue eyes widen at her unwavering gaze and the dull tone of her voice, utterly bereft of tears at his betrayal. "I simply know another woman's perfume when I smell it. How you can stand to inhale it all the time, I'll never know."

Ralph stares at her for a long moment, face thunderous even as he maintains his dumbfounded silence. She wonders what she must look like to him and how disappointed he must be – he'd wanted a pretty china doll on his arm and ever since she met… she's changed. She has stopped trying to fold into herself, to make herself small enough to fit into his life and his desires. She has stretched out her arms, taken up space and declared it her own. She is not just Lady Fiennes. She is Alex. He'd taught her that.

But she isn't thinking about him.

When Ralph finally speaks, his voice is dangerously soft but hard enough to have made her flinch, once upon a time. "How I spend my time is none of your concern, wife. Haven't I fulfilled my duty? Haven't I given you a big house and fine things? A reputation and status you never would have had if you had married some butcher or pig farmer -"

"I don't care!" she spits, tossing aside her knitting and rising swiftly to her feet. It's been so long that it's almost a relief to feel something, even if it is anger. "Don't you understand? I don't care about any of that. None of it means a bloody thing to me! I need something money cannot buy." She shakes her head and presses a hand over her mouth, wilting suddenly. Her knees tremble but she holds her ground, dropping her hand and curling it into a fist at her side, drawing courage from the ache of her knuckles. "I need companionship, Ralph. I need love. I need -"

Matt.

She violently forces the thought aside, bile in the back of her throat.

Oblivious to the way she falters, Ralph waves an impatient hand. "Alright, so you need company. That's what I keep telling you – go out and-"

"Not the companionship of your friends' horrible wives!" She rakes a hand through her hair, a

frustrated, hollow laugh on her lips. "They don't care about me and I certainly do not care for them. I want something real – something that matters."

Ralph lounges against the doorframe, looking so unconcerned and distant she could scream. "Well, you were very happy when you had that vagabond to look after-" She flinches but he doesn't notice. "Perhaps you just need something to care for."

She turns away to hide the tears in her eyes, staring out at her garden through the window. It's covered in snow and ice, a world away from the warm, sunny patch of green where she fell in love. She's sure it would be quite the metaphor if she had the heart to truly think on it.

"I could -" Ralph hesitates, clearing his throat, and for a moment, he almost sounds like he cares. "I could ask around and find out what I need to do to acquire a baby for you if it will make you happy."

"I don't want you to buy me a baby!" She whirls on him, not bothering to hide the tears in her eyes. It would never occur to him to offer her his love and companionship. He couldn't give it to her even if she wanted to accept it. There is only one man whose love she wants, only one man who can soothe the ache of loneliness, but he isn't here. He may never show his ridiculous face here again. "A baby cannot fix everything. It isn't a magical solution to a woman's troubles."

"Then what do you want?" Ralph throws up his arms and pushes away from the doorframe. He looks at her with annoyance, as if her very existence is nothing but an inconvenience to him. She is not the pretty doll he wanted on his arm anymore – she doesn't know if she ever was. "I cannot stand another moment of you haunting this house like a bloody ghost, not really here -"

"Would you like me to leave?" Not so long ago, the thought of Ralph tossing her out had reduced her to hysterics. There had been nothing worse in her mind than being out in the cold with nowhere to go and no way to support herself. Now, it would only be a relief to escape these walls, to look out her window every day and not see reminders of Matt in the hollowed out remnants of her garden. "I'm certain Francesca would be very pleased."

Ralph clenches his jaw and breathes out quietly through his nose, nostrils flaring. "You are my wife and you will remain my wife. You think I would release you so easily?"

She lifts her chin, eyeing him defiantly.

"I would damn us both first." He turns on his heel and begins to stride from the room, tossing over

his shoulder, "Your vagabond will never have you."

Her blood turns cold and she stares after him, her whole body trembling, until the echoing click of his boot heels fades into the distance and she knows she's alone once more. Finally, her knees give out beneath her and she sinks to the floor, voluminous skirts around her as she kneels. Shoulders shaking and sobs wracking her frame, she presses her face into the carpet. What if he found a nice young woman from his own time he could actually spend his days with? He'd barely even healed from his last misadventure when he left her – what if something awful has happened to him? Oh god, what if he's dead?

She doesn't know how long she sits there before Mrs. Blackburn comes to fetch her. Dazed, Alex barely notices her, allowing herself to be manhandled. Mrs. Blackburn pulls her to her feet and guides her up the stairs. Alex's feet follow willingly, though her mind is far away, full of the horrors that could have befallen Matt on one of his travels. He's a terribly gangly thing but he has muscle and he's fast. He could look after himself. But he'd been so weak and injured…

Mrs. Blackburn leads Alex into her chambers and begins helping her undress, pulling her gown over her head. Alex lifts her arms obediently, her thoughts on Matt lying in a gutter somewhere hundreds of years in the past or future, alone and rotting. No. She would feel it, wouldn't she?

Wouldn't she know deep in her heart if he were gone? Surely the universe would not go on as usual, would it?

Pushing her gently in the direction of her bed, Mrs. Blackburn murmurs soothingly to her, and it's only then that Alex realizes she's still sniffling, tears drying on her cheeks. She climbs onto her bed and lays her head on her pillow, letting Mrs. Blackburn tuck the blankets around her with sympathetic tuts. Numb, Alex watches in silence as the older woman blows out the candle by her bed and lets herself out, shutting the door behind her.

Months ago, in the woods and beneath a towering tree, she'd told Matt that he made her days brighter. She told him she'd been waiting for him from the day she met him and always would. Curling up beneath the sheets like a child, Alex shuts her tired, swollen eyes and wonders when she'd stopped.

"And of course, I told him I couldn't possibly be expected to appear in public without it, no matter how frivolous he thought it might be." The women around the table murmur 'naturally' and Theodosia tilts her head proudly to show off her latest purchase, an extravagant hat that must have cost her poor husband a very pretty pence indeed. She waits patiently for the oohs and aahs to fade, sipping primly at her tea. "It goes very well with my dress, don't you think?"

Another murmur of agreement echoes around the table, a few women eyeing the hideous hat with envy. Alex keeps her eyes on her teacup, stirring her tea listlessly. She might have agreed to go out and socialize for Ralph and his darling reputation but he hadn't specified she had to participate in such vapid conversation. They've been going on about that bloody hat for ages and Alex never cared for feathers. She tunes them out as best as she can, focusing instead on the way her dainty spoon creates a little whirlpool in her cup the faster she moves it. A droplet splashes over the edge of the cup onto the table and she forces herself to slow her movements, watching the liquid in the cup settle once more.

"And it's so lovely to have you with us again, Alexandra."

Alex glances up at the sound of her name, startled, and finds every woman at the table looking at her. She forces a winning smile and nods her thanks. "It's lovely to be amongst you all. I missed your company so terribly – I was forced to talk to Ralph and the servants while I was ill." The words feel like poison on her tongue but they all beam at her and she breathes a sigh of relief, hoping they'll go back to discussing things without her.

"Oh, you poor thing." Theodosia rests a pale hand on her arm, mouth downturned in sympathy. "I can't imagine how dull it must have been. We were all so worried for your complexion. But you look very well for being so ill."

The others nod enthusiastically and one of them ventures enviously, "Your waist looks smaller too."

Alex affects a thankful smile, her stomach churning. She curls her shaking hands into fists in her lap and wonders what they would think if she told them she hadn't been ill at all. She just couldn't stand the idea of pasting on a smile for them or listening to their inane chatter. She learned to handle it before Matt, had even managed to thrive in this toxic environment, but he had weakened her. He'd reminded her of how empty it all was and how much of her life she was wasting by pretending she cared about parties and gossip and what fabric was in from Paris. And then he'd left her to fend for herself. There was nothing to do but pretend again – for her sanity and her survival.

"I've lost two inches," she confesses, affecting a whisper for the sake of modesty, and they all gasp covetously, fluttering hands on their chests. "Ralph brought home a whole trunk of new dresses just yesterday."

It had been a bribe to get her out of the house and out among society again. Alex had let him believe it was the dresses that changed her mind, rather than the sudden desire to be as far from him and his impatient hovering as possible. The women around her swoon, dropping jealous eyes back to their teacups, and Alex smirks. They're all a little in love with her husband and the only

thing that seems to silence their chatter is an offhand remark about how he dotes on her. If only they knew she would give him up in a heartbeat for her freedom.

Taking a dainty bite of her raspberry tart, Beatrice Clayton clears her throat and comments slyly, "I noticed you're wearing your hair up again, Alexandra."

For a moment, Alex forgets herself and her role, freezing with her teacup halfway to her mouth. The other women look up but she recovers quickly, slipping back into character and struggling not to lift a hand to touch the elaborate updo, tight on her scalp and not nearly as comforting as the feel of her curls around her shoulders. It too, had been too painful a reminder. "It was a phase," she murmurs around the rim of her teacup. "I was itching for a change."

Theodosia lights up and snatches the opportunity to turn the conversation back to herself, touching her fingers to the wide brim of her hat. "That's why I insisted Charles purchase this, my dear. Much more elegant than natural hair."

As the conversation returns once more to Theodosia's hat collection, Alex breathes out a quiet sigh of relief and drops her eyes back to her teacup. Picking up her spoon, she begins to swirl it around and make another whirlpool, tuning out the sound of talk and laughter around her.

She stays out just long enough to satisfy Ralph before returning to the manor. Without pausing to greet the servants or search out her husband, she heads directly up the stairs and down the corridor, pointedly not looking at the guest room where Matt had stayed as she strides with purpose toward her chambers. Throwing open the door, she slips inside and stoops to slip out of her shoes, tossing them across the room in a fit of pique.

A little yelp startles her half to death and she stumbles back with a hand to her pounding heart, turning to the source of the noise. There, in the middle of her bed, sits a little lump of black fur with a wagging tail and big brown eyes that peer at her curiously. Alex eyes it in much the same way, inching carefully into the room with a wary, "Hello there."

At the sound of her voice, the puppy prances a little in place, tail still wagging.

Disarmed instantly, Alex crosses the remaining distance between them and scoops the little thing up into her arms, cuddling it to her chest. The puppy snuggles into her and licks happily at her shoulder, sniffing her. Giggling, Alex squirms away from the touch and scratches behind its ear, cooing. "Aren't you just darling, hm?"

"A Newfoundland."

She turns at the sound of Ralph's voice and finds him standing in the doorway, watching her clutch the dog to her chest. "Pardon?"

"He's a Newfoundland." Ralph shoves his hands into his coat pockets and smiles faintly. "Only eight weeks old but in time, he'll be quite formidable. I thought you might like him for company. A puppy is rather like a baby, isn't it?"

"Not quite," she murmurs, preoccupied with the furry bundle in her arms. He's warm and soft against her and she feels comforted for the first time since… well, since Matt. "Thank you, Ralph. He's a lovely gift."

He nods, pleased. "What will you name him?"

"Sid." The name leaves her mouth without thought but after a moment, she knows why. A young man in her garden wearing a strange t-shirt, telling her tales of the future with a wry grin and calling her Miss Manners. Tears sting her eyes and Alex ducks her head, burying her face in sweet-smelling puppy fur. "I'll call him Sid."

As winter progresses, Sid becomes her constant companion. She takes him with her everywhere and he trots happily behind her throughout the manor and on the grounds when she braves the cold to visit her garden, which is more and more often lately. She wraps her cloak tightly around her, traipses through snow and turns her face into the biting wind, offering up a silent plea that wherever he is and whatever he's doing, Matt is safe and happy. And then Sid will fall on his face in the snow and make her laugh again.

He's always doing that – cheering her without even trying. Once the ladies she's unfortunate enough to call friends discover that Ralph bought her a pet, they all flock to the manor to see the purebred pup, fawning over him like they might a new hat. Not quite housebroken yet and a little excited at all the company and attention, Sid had urinated all over Theodosia as she held him. Alex had gasped and offered polite apologies and offers to replace the gown, all the while biting her lip to contain a bout of giggles. She'd scooped Sid up and fed him an extra treat.

Thankfully, Sid also provides a point of conversation for her and Ralph. They both love and dote on the dog even if they can't seem to love and dote on each other. More often than not, she feels

lonely in the manor all by herself. Ralph doesn't brave the snow and the cold to visit town as frequently as he had during the summer, but even with his company, Alex feels isolated. And then Sid will curl up at her feet or nudge her hand insistently to be petted and suddenly she isn't alone anymore. She has someone who needs her and loves her, someone who won't just go away.

Sid is even at her side when she falls ill. One moment, she stands in her sitting room pouring herself a cup of tea and the next she feels so dizzy and warm she can barely stand. She forces a smile when Sid cocks his head at her, curling her fingers into the table to keep herself upright. "How about a treat for the good boy, hm?" she asks shakily, reaching for the little cup of sugars next to the milk.

Sid wags his tail at her.

Her hand shakes violently as she reaches for a sugar cube and she knocks the whole thing over, upending it all over the table. A few skitter to the ground at Sid's feet and he drops his head to snatch one up. Alex watches him fondly but her vision swims and this time, she doesn't grasp the table edge quickly enough. As she falls to the floor in a crumpled heap, Sid begins to bark madly, no doubt alerting the whole manor of her clumsy fall. Just before she passes out, he whines and licks her hand.

When she wakes again, she isn't on the floor but in her bed, tucked in snugly and with Sid still at her side, a silent guardian. Around her are the familiar voices of Ralph and Doctor Hawthorne but delirious and insensible with fever, she can only make out bits of their conversation.

"You let her wander about outside in the cold for hours at a time – is it any wonder she's fallen ill? I'm only shocked she managed as long as she has without catching a cold." Dr. Hawthorne sounds scolding and in her sleep, Alex frowns because Ralph does not like to be spoken to that way. He'll get angry – probably with her.

"I let her?" Ralph scowls. "You are sorely mistaken if you think I have any control over what Alexandra does or does not do, Doctor. She does as she pleases and if I had forbidden her to go out, she would have gone anyway and stayed out longer just to spite me."

Dr. Hawthorne sighs patiently. "Well, for her sake, try to keep her inside and in bed. She needs rest."

Alex lapses into unconsciousness again and when she wakes, Ralph and Dr. Hawthorne are gone. The room is warm, a fire burning in the fireplace and the blankets tucked up to her chin. A soft, familiar hand rests against her cheek and she hears a quiet hum she remembers from childhood. "Nicola?" She murmurs, squinting into the dark room. "Am I dreaming?"

Her sister laughs softly and pats her cheek. "I'm afraid not, dear heart."

She flinches when Nicola replaces her hand with a cool cloth, stroking her face with it. Since she married Ralph, Alex hasn't seen any of her family. Ralph never wanted to make the journey. "What are you doing here?"

"Your husband wrote to me," she says, her lip curling around the word husband as though it leaves a vile taste in her mouth. "He said you were unwell and you might enjoy my company more than his or a servant. It was so uncharacteristically thoughtful I almost fell out of my chair when I read it."

"Nicola," Alex slurs disapprovingly, stifling a tired smile. "Rude."

Nicola shrugs, leaning over to wet the cloth in the bowl by the bed, wringing it out and placing it over Alex's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

Pausing long enough to take stock of her body, Alex hums thoughtfully. "Better. Tired."

"Well, your fever has broken so I think you're out of the woods." Nicola brushes damp curls from her sister's forehead and watches her in disapproval. "For a while, we weren't sure. You scared me."

Alex reaches up a weak hand and clasps her sister's as tightly as she can. "I'm sorry."

Nicola squeezes back, lacing their fingers together. "What were you thinking, wandering about outside at all hours of the day?"

She shrugs. "I like the fresh air."

Eyes narrowed in disbelief, Nicola doesn't get the chance to reply before a knock on the door interrupts her. Ralph peers into the room, his eyes landing on Nicola. "Is she awake?"

Nicola leans away from Alex just enough for him to see that her eyes are open and to his credit, he looks relieved. "How are you?"

"Fine. Better." Alex manages a faint smile.

He nods. "I'm glad. Can I get you anything?"

She shakes her head; ignoring the odd look Nicola gives them both. "Thank you for sending for my sister."

"Of course." He clears his throat, glancing behind him. "There's someone who would like to see you, if you're feeling up to it."

Alex opens her mouth to tell him she isn't up to company at all – she's bedridden, in a thin nightgown, unwashed and with her hair a mess, the last thing she needs is someone like Theodosia wandering in with her painted face and perfectly coiffed hair to sniff at her – when the visitor pushes past Ralph with a huff and bounds into the room, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of his mouth. She lights up instantly, laughing as Sid leaps onto the bed and clambers over Nicola to get to her.

"Oh hello, my love!" She reaches out a hand and rests it on his head, letting him lean in to lick her face. "Did you miss me, then?" Sid answers her by curling up at her side, resting his chin on her stomach and blinking up at her with big brown eyes. Alex chuckles fondly, scratching behind his ears. "Did he behave for you?"

"Perfectly." Ralph shifts from foot to foot, unusually hesitant. "If you have no need of me, I thought I might venture into town this afternoon."

He eyes her steadily, looking tentative, and she realizes suddenly that if she asked him to stay, he likely would. He might join her in her chambers and join Nicola in looking after her, regaling them with tales of Sid's mishaps while she's been indisposed. He might have been so frightened by her sudden illness that he'd promise to never 'venture into town' again if she asked it of him. Alex finds herself shaking her head slowly, green eyes meeting his as she says, "I'll be fine. Go ahead."

After another moment of eye contact, Ralph nods once and drops his head. "Very well. I shall see you at dinner, if you're well enough to attend." He glances at Nicola. "Look after her for me?"

Nicola nods, still looking puzzled. "Of course." The moment he disappears, shutting the door behind him, she turns and looks at Alex, eyebrow raised. "What on earth was that all about?"

"What?" Alex trails a finger down Sid's nose playfully and does not look at her sister.

"You two speak as though you're strangers, not a married couple." Nicola picks up the washcloth Alex had discarded and places it by the bowl on her nightstand. "And I've never seen two people so serious about a trip into town, of all things."

Alex sighs, unwilling to tell her sister anything but knowing she doesn't have much choice in the matter. "We might as well be strangers – we hardly see each other. And a trip into town is my husband's polite way of telling me he's going to call on his darling mistress. Horrid woman."

Nicola stares at her, appalled.

Glancing away, Alex turns her attention back to Sid, uncomfortable under her sister's scrutiny. "I'm fine, Nic. Honestly."

"How can you be fine?" Nicola finally splutters. "You told him to go -"

"Because I don't care."

"How can you not care that your husband is -"

"Because I don't love him, Nicola." Alex finally looks at her again, frowning. "He can do as he wishes."

Nicola studies her in silence for a long moment, eyes searching her face with intense scrutiny. Finally, she nods primly and rises from the bed, moving to open the curtains and let in the cold winter light. "Who is he then?"

Brow furrowed, Alex watches her move about the room, tidying up with short, clipped movements that reveal her sister's agitation. "Who?"

"The man you're really in love with." Nicola begins straightening the pillows on the settee across the room, ignoring Alex's sharp inhale. "The only reason you wouldn't care if Ralph had a mistress is if you yourself had taken a lover. So who is he?"

Alex begins to shake her head, hands trembling. "Nicola -"

"You might as well tell me." Nicola pats the last pillow in satisfaction and places her hands on her hips, glancing up at Alex solemnly. "I'll not give you a moment's peace until you do."

Telling Nicola the whole truth – that she met a time traveler from the future and fell in love with him during his brief, sporadic visits – would only ensure that her sister sent her away to an asylum, sure that marriage to Ralph has driven her mad. Alex quietly resolves to tell her only part of the story, just enough to satisfy Nicola. "His name was Matt."

"Was?" Nicola crosses the room and takes her hands.

"I don't know what happened to him," she answers honestly. "He… traveled quite a lot but he always visited when he could. I haven't seen him since September."

Nicola squeezes her fingers. "Did you – love him?"

A lump forms in her throat but Alex forces herself to speak around it, her voice coming out strangled and hoarse. "Yes. Very much."

"Alex -"

"It doesn't matter," Alex swallows hard. "He's gone."

Seeing the tears in her eyes, Nicola crumbles, settling onto the edge of the bed and gathering Alex into her arms. "Oh, my poor love. I'm sure he'll come back – perhaps when the weather is warmer, hmm?"

Burying her face in her sister's hair, Alex shakes her head. "No, I don't think he will."

every road leads home to you

Chapter Summary

"Nicola," she growls, gripping her sister tightly as tears of frustration sting her eyes. He could be gone again by the time she gets to him and oh god, she'll not survive if she can't at least see him, just a glimpse of his face. "I will get down there if I have to crawl the whole way on my hands and knees. So you can either watch me do it or help me."

Chapter Notes

Just the epilogue left! Chapter title from the Richie Sambora song.

After a week of Nicola's care and persistence, Alex is well enough to sit up in bed and eat a bowl of soup on her own, balking at her sister's attempts to help. Lying at the foot of the bed, Sid watches her eat with a look of longing in his eyes but makes no attempt to steal her bread, warm and fresh from the oven.

Nicola swats at him anyway with a scolding, "Don't even think about it, Sid." She arranges Alex's pillows behind her, fluffing them to her satisfaction. "Such an unusual name. Whatever made you think of it?"

Stomach knotting instantly at the reminder of Matt, Alex places her soupspoon back in her bowl and swallows. "I read it in a book," she lies.

"Really? What book?" Nicola tidies the nightstand with a frown. "You require less and less looking after, and I could use something to keep me occupied."

Silent as she struggles to come up with something, Alex doesn't hear the sudden eruption of shouting and chaos outside until Nicola tuts disapprovingly and goes to the window. "Lord, what on earth is all that noise for?" Unable to see anything, she sighs. "I'm going to find out what all the fuss is about. Stay put and eat your soup, please."

Too relieved that Nicola seems to have forgotten about the nonexistent book for now, Alex doesn't argue. She doesn't even think about the noise in the garden again until she hears the rustling of Nicola's skirts hurrying down the corridor, back far too quickly. She must have gone to

another room on the second floor to get a better look out a window instead of going all the way downstairs. Alex sips another spoonful of soup and raises an eyebrow at Sid's envious whine. "Oh, act your age. Honestly."

Appearing in the doorway, flushed and shaken, Nicola says breathlessly, "There's a funny looking man in strange clothes in your garden shouting for you. He must be a madman or a drunkard but -"

Oh god. Alex shoves the blankets away from her so fast she upends the bowl of soup all over her bed. She ignores Nicola's shout of protest, scrambling from the bed as quickly as her tired body will let her. The moment she tries to stand, her weak legs give out from under her and it's only Nicola's arms around her that save her from hitting the floor. "Alexandra Fiennes, what in god's name has gotten into you? Get back into bed this instant -"

Alex struggles back to her feet again with Nicola's help. "I need to see him, Nic. Please, get me to the garden."

"Absolutely not – the doctor said you're not to venture outside for any reason -"

"Nicola," she growls, gripping her sister tightly as tears of frustration sting her eyes. He could be gone again by the time she gets to him and oh god, she'll not survive if she can't at least see him, just a glimpse of his face. "I will get down there if I have to crawl the whole way on my hands and knees. So you can either watch me do it or help me."

Stunned into silence, Nicola nods wordlessly and together, they begin the laborious trek down the corridor, down the staircase and to the terrace. Sid hurries on ahead of them at the ruckus, barking the whole way. Her heart pounds wildly against her ribcage, her hands shake and passing out from exertion seems like a very real possibility but Alex forges ahead with determination. The sound of Matt's voice raised in anger spurs her on and good lord, hearing him again after all these lonely months – it's better than she imagined it would be if he ever came back.

And he did come back. Just like he promised he would.

He looks seconds from having some sort of fit, running his fingers through his short hair and shouting at her gardener with a red face and wild eyes, Sid barking and jumping around at his feet. "Where is she? So help me god, if that bastard has touched a hair on her head, I will -"

His panicked diatribe dies in his throat the moment Alex steps out onto the terrace supported by

Nicola, and for a long moment, he just stares. She knows she must look a fright, sickly pale and thin in her rumpled nightgown, her feet bare. She can't even bring herself to care, clutching Nicola's arm to keep herself upright as she drinks him in greedily. Heavens, he is just as perfect and ridiculous as her memory of him. It's been months but his hair is still the same length, his clothes are still terrible and he still looks at her like he can't see anything else. As he stares, tears fill his eyes and he takes a hesitant step forward. "Alex?"

Her name on his tongue after all this time is enough to undo her entirely and she crumples right in front of him, knees giving out beneath her. Matt is at her side in an instant, pulling her from Nicola and into his arms. He holds her tight enough to squeeze the breath from her lungs but it still isn't enough and Alex clings to him, fisting his shirt in her hands and sobbing into his chest. Matt presses his lips into her hair and rocks her silently, his arms strong and solid around her frame. "Oh sweetheart," he breathes, voice choked. "I've been gone too long, haven't I?"

She can't even articulate a reply, trembling violently, tears streaming down her face.

He tightens his arm around her waist and strokes her hair, murmuring apologies in a tortured voice. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to – it's only been three weeks for me. I tried – I tried to come back to you before then, I swear."

Curling her fingers into the short hairs at the back of his head, Alex nods hurriedly and struggles to get a hold of herself, wondering why she ever believed he would leave her on purpose. She thought he'd found someone else, that he'd been hurt, that he was dead, but it had never occurred to her that all those months of worrying and missing him had only been three weeks for Matt – three weeks that he spent trying desperately to return to her.

"Pardon me, but might we continue this reunion inside?" Nicola clears her throat and they both freeze, lifting their heads to find that while they'd been occupied with each other, Nicola had sent the servants away. They're alone in the garden, standing out in the snow and shivering. "My sister is ill and she needs to be warm and in bed."

Matt pales instantly and offers a silent nod, lifting Alex into his arms. She gives a startled yelp and clutches at him with a tearful giggle, allowing him to stand and carry her into the house. "Darling, I can walk."

Trailing after them, Nicola snorts.

Alex glares at her over Matt's shoulder, softening instantly when he turns his head and brushes his lips over her temple. "I'm not ready to let go of you yet."

Pressing her face against the soft, sweet-smelling skin of his throat, Alex presses a kiss there and murmurs, "I'll never be ready to let go again."

They reach her chambers far too quickly and Matt reluctantly releases her to help Nicola settle her on the bed, tucking the blankets in around her tenderly. The moment he sits on the edge of the bed, Alex latches onto him again and he smiles widely, cupping her face in his hands and stealing a hard, biting kiss that leaves her breathless and flushed. "God, I missed you. I'm so sorry, sweetheart -"

She shakes her head, stroking her hand over his lightly stubbled cheek. "It isn't your fault, darling." He leans his head into her touch, kissing her palm. "You came back to me. That's all that matters."

"Course I did." He kisses her palm again and then the pads of her fingers, looking at her so lovingly Alex feels warmth blossom in her chest, truly happy for the first time since he left. "I promised."

Once again, Nicola clears her throat and Alex flushes, wondering how she could possibly have forgotten her sister was still in the room. "I'm going to give the two of you a moment alone. How do you take your tea… I assume you're Matt?"

Cheeks pink with embarrassment, he nods. "Two sugars, please."

Nicola gives Alex a look that she can't begin to interpret and turns on her heel, leaving them alone. The moment she's gone, Alex pushes away her blankets and abandons all propriety, climbing into his lap. He wraps his arms around her and rests his chin on top of her head but she can't seem to get close enough. She clings to him, terrified he'll disappear again. Nicola had left the door open and Sid pushes his way through, ambling inside with a wagging tail.

Matt laughs softly. "Who's this?"

She lifts her head and holds out a hand, beckoning her closest companion onto the bed. He hops up and settles at her side, sniffing the knee of Matt's trousers curiously. "His name is Sid."

He guffaws in delight and reaches out to ruffle the fur on top of Sid's head. "That is a brilliant name."

"He was a gift from Ralph," she says softly. "I wasn't… myself for a while, and he thought I might like something to look after."

"How long has it been?" He asks, sounding afraid of the answer.

Alex turns her head into the crook of his neck and breathes him in deeply. "Six months."

He swears, tightening his hold on her. "I don't know what happened. I -" he stops, freezing, and Alex feels him tense and trembling against her. "What's the date, Alex?"

"1816. The first of March -" His face crumples and he drops his head to her lap, burying his face in her skirts. Wrapping his arms tightly around her middle, he shudders, heaving a quiet cry of despair, and does not move. Stunned, Alex wraps her arms around him and attempts to lift his head but he turns away from her so she doesn't see his face, gathering her close and pressing his face against her neck. She feels his shoulders shake beneath her hands. "Matt, darling -"

"It's today," he says, voice catching, and she feels hot tears against her neck. "I wasted months – oh god."

"Matt, calm down, darling." She lifts his head from her shoulder and cups his face in her hands but Matt still won't look at her, his eyes red and his face pale.

"I've just gotten you back and I've lost you -"

She brushes her thumbs over his cheeks and kisses his chin, silencing him. He swallows thickly, eyes wet and desolate. "I need you to talk to me. Why is the date so important?"

Matt sniffles, ducking his head and looking like he could be ill at any moment. He doesn't say anything for a long while, gripping her hands tight enough to make her fingers ache. Finally, in a hollow voice, he says, "After you gave me that painting, I realized I could look you up on the internet -" At her befuddled look, he explains, "I could research you and find out about your life, your whole history."

She draws in a quiet breath, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. "And what did you find?"

Matt purses his quavering lips, fresh tears welling in his eyes. "The first of March, 1816." He lifts his head and his destroyed gaze makes her tremble. "Lady Alexandra Fiennes died of a fever."

She shakes her head even as her stomach drops in alarm, drawing his hands to her chest and pressing them over her heart. "That can't be right," she says firmly. "I feel perfectly fine, darling. A little weak, perhaps, but I've spent weeks in bed recovering, so it's to be expected."

"But it said -"

"I don't care what your intersnatch whatsit said. I am fine, darling. Just ask Nicola – my fever broke days ago." With him sitting right in front of her, after months of believing she would never see him again, it's easy to offer him a wide grin and she feels him relax somewhat at the sight of it. "I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Lifting his hands from her chest, Matt threads his fingers through her hair and kisses her, slower this time but just as desperate. Alex melts into him, lips parting eagerly at the first stroke of his tongue. He tastes just as he always does, like ancient cities and summer dew, like moments yet to come. He tastes like home. "Why would it say that if it isn't true? It's incredibly detailed and accurate about every part of your life – it doesn't make any sense."

She shrugs, stroking his hair and pressing reassuring kisses to the shell of his ear, making him shiver. "Perhaps it was a lie."

"It can't lie. It's a genealogical website. It's just giving me information that – well, I suppose whoever made the official records could have lied but why on earth would someone create a record of your death when you're alive and perfectly well?" Matt slips his arm around her waist again and rests his chin on her shoulder, thinking. She kisses the side of his head fondly, stroking her fingers up and down his back. "What if -"

"Matt?"

"Hmm?"

"I want to go back with you."

His shoulders slump and he leans all of his weight into her. "I know, sweetheart. I do too."

"No." She pulls back to look him square in the eye. "I mean it."

"Alex, you know I can't take anything from the past with me – it doesn't work like that." Matt strokes his hands over her legs beneath the hem of her nightgown, his touch soft and soothing. "I've tried before."

"Maybe it didn't work because those things aren't supposed to be in the future – they belong in the past." She swallows, attempting a small, hopeful smile as he looks at her in confusion. "But maybe I don't."

"Don't what?"

"Belong here."

"You don't," he says, eyes soft as he strokes her hair. "You belong with me."

"Exactly." Her smile widens. "When you leave, I'm coming with you."

Matt shakes his head, his mouth a grim line, but she sees the light in his eyes, feels the tremble of excitement and hope in his fingers as he touches her, and knows that he doesn't want to get his hopes up. "If you could travel with me, wouldn't you have gone before? When we were -"

"Maybe it wasn't time yet," she reasons, gripping his hands. "I had to stay because in the future, I'm still here. Until the day I supposedly die – today."

"Alex, you don't know what you're asking. What if it goes wrong and something happens to you? Or hell, what if it does work? You'll be in a world two hundred years in the future, sweetheart. You'll have to leave everything behind. I can't ask you to do that -"

"But you can ask me to sit here and wait for you to get back?" She frowns, shaking her head, and her curls slap his cheek lightly. "This time it was six months, but what if it's years next time? You could come back and it may have been a week for you, but I'm old and gray."

His eyes dim but he manages a half-hearted smile. "I would still love you."

"I could be dead."

"Don't." He swallows audibly, shaking his head. "Don't say that."

"Whether I say it or not, it's still true and you know it. You've spent god knows how long believing I was going to die and it wasn't true this time but eventually, you're going to travel here and find me dead." He flinches violently and she lays a hand to his cheek, guiding him to look at her. "Think about it – what if this is the reason why the records say I died? Ralph wouldn't want everyone believing I just disappeared. People would think I ran off with someone else and what would that do to his precious reputation? He would pay the physician to lie just to save himself the gossip. It would free him to remarry in a matter of months."

Matt looks at her with barely disguised hope, lashes wet and chin quivering. "Alex-"

"We have to at least try, Matt. I can't do this anymore. I thought I would be happy waiting as long as you came back but it's agony, darling. I can't." She presses her forehead to his and shuts her eyes, gripping his collar in her fists. "Don't leave me again. Please."

He nods, burying his hands in her hair with a quiet sniffle. "Okay, sweetheart. We'll try."

"Alex?"

She turns and finds Nicola in the doorway, holding a tea tray and looking at them with concern and a little bit of alarm. Realizing she's on Matt's lap in her nightgown, Alex flushes and scrambles off him but doesn't go far, clinging to his arm. "Come here, Nic. Forget about the tea."

Slowly, Nicola walks into the room and sets the tea tray on the table by the bed. "What's going on? Is he upsetting you?" She glares at Matt, who shrinks from her gaze. "It's bad enough you left her for months, not knowing if you were dead or alive, but to come here and upset her when she's ill -"

"Nic." Alex laughs at the look on Matt's face, pressing a soothing kiss to his jaw. "He isn't upsetting me. I'm happy." With one last look at Matt to make sure he isn't going to disappear, she

releases his arm and crawls to the edge of the bed, reaching for her sister. Nicola takes her hand, still eyeing Matt suspiciously. "But I need you to listen very carefully."

"What is it?" Nicola frowns. "Are you sure you're alright, love?"

"I'm perfect, I promise," she smiles fondly at her sister, drawing her close to pull her into a hug. Nicola tentatively returns the embrace, still confused, but Alex closes her eyes and breathes in the scent of cinnamon and tea that has clung to Nicola since she was a little girl. Tears sting her eyes but she pushes them away, pulling back to smile bravely. "But I'm going to be going away for a while."

"A while?" Nicola raises a challenging eyebrow. "You're not venturing one foot out of this bed for the next week, dear heart, but I'll indulge you. How long is a while?"

Smile dimming, Alex squeezes her sister's hand. "I don't think we'll see each other again, Nic. And I'm sorry."

Nicola shakes her head, pulling her hand from Alex's grip. "Alex, stop talking nonsense. You're scaring me."

"I need you to look after Sid for me." She glances at her dog, still sitting at the foot of the bed and watching her innocently. "Make sure he's always happy and comfortable. And let him sleep with you because he'll be terribly lonely otherwise."

"Alex, stop it -"

She shakes her head, holding up a hand. "Tell Mother and Father that I love them, alright?" She sniffles and when she reaches for her hand again, Nicola lets her take it." And remember that I love you too."

"Of course, dear. But what has gotten into you?" Nicola takes her by the elbows and begins to guide her back onto the bed. "You're talking nonsense and you clearly need more rest. You'll feel much better in a few hours, I promise."

Alex resists her efforts to make her lie down, shaking out of her sister's grip and reaching for Sid instead. The dog bounds into her arms willingly and she buries her face in soft black fur, cooing at him. "You've been such a good boy," she says, combing her fingers through his fur gently.

"Thank you for looking after me."

Sid lifts his head and licks her cheek, panting against her skin.

She smiles, turning her head and kissing his nose. "But now you have to look after, Nicola, alright? Keep her safe for me."

"Alex." She turns and finds Matt watching her in a panic, holding up his undoubtedly tingling hand. "I think it's time."

"Time?" Nicola scowls. "Are you both delusional with fever now? Alex -"

"I'm sorry, Nic. You'll understand in a moment." She hurries back to Matt's side and decides that in a moment, propriety won't matter and she isn't going to take any chances of him fading away without her. She climbs into his lap and loops her arms around his neck, ignoring Nicola's scandalized squeak. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiles warmly at her sister. "It's going to be fine. I'll be safe." She turns back to Matt, eyes softening. "I'll be happy."

He tangles his hands in her hair and looks into her eyes. "Don't be upset if this doesn't work," he warns. "We'll find another way. And I'll be back for you, like I always am."

She shakes her head. "It's going to work. I know it is."

Just in case, she leans in and kisses him fiercely, her hands framing his face and her chest pressed tightly to his, holding on with all her might. Matt responds with fervor, clutching her small frame to him as if it will be enough to keep her with him always. Her eyes fall shut and she forgets about everything else, the whole world dissolving around her as she kisses Matt, tongue twining with his and his fingers biting into her hips. A sudden rush of air makes her cling to him tighter than ever and she makes a small, desperate sound against his lips, terrified that if she opens her eyes, she'll see him fade from her arms like she has so often before. Please, she prays to whoever might listen.

Not this time.

The sound of wind in her ears fades and her stomach drops, the dizzying rush of falling from a great height – and then silence. The ground feels steady beneath her once more and slowly, she begins to realize that she is not alone in her chambers with Nicola, and in fact, she is not in her chambers at all anymore. Matt is still kissing her. Strange sounds begin to reach her ears, horns and people talking and a high, annoying screech that grows louder and louder and then fades into the distance. Sounds of the future, she realizes. Except it isn't the future anymore. It's the present.

Slowly, she gathers her courage and drops her hands from Matt's face, drawing away to stare at him. He stares right back, blinking at her as if he can't bring himself to believe that she's real. Slowly, a wide, giddy grin begins to spread across his face. "It worked."

She glances around, realizing they're sitting on the floor and clinging to each other in the middle of what looks to be a very tiny parlor. There's a settee and a table and a strange, square box hanging on the wall showing flickering image after flickering image until she grows dizzy and has to look away. "It worked," she repeats, and laughs in delight.

When Matt kisses her, he still tastes like the future. Their future.

epilogue: time has brought your heart to me

Chapter Summary

Alex is in his kitchen.

His Alex – the 19th century woman with her ball gowns and her manners – is in his kitchen.

Chapter Notes

Thank you all so much for your kind and encouraging comments on this fic - I appreciate them more than you can imagine *HUGS*

Chapter title from Christina Perri's A Thousand Years

Alex is in his kitchen.

His Alex – the 19 th century woman with her ball gowns and her manners – is in his kitchen . He never even dared to dream he could have this, and now that it's happened, he thinks he's in a state of shock and has been since they'd arrived last night. They'd celebrated by having each other right there on the floor, frantic and clinging to each other in disbelief. When they'd stumbled to their feet again, Alex had leaned heavily into his side and he'd remembered belatedly just how sick she'd been when they'd left.

Her first introduction to the 21st century had been a hot shower and he'd joined her, showing her how the knobs worked with an arm around her bare waist and a smile buried in her shoulder as she expressed delight and awe over running water. Her wet curls had clung to her cheek and dripped down her shoulders and chest, her face flushed with pleasure and her heated skin perfect and real and there under his palms.

He'd discarded her antiquated nightgown and helped her into a pair of his jogging bottoms and an old t-shirt, making sure to select a plain one so the design wouldn't offend her sensibilities. She'd crawled into his bed still beaming about the novelty of wearing trousers, plucking at them in fascination every few seconds. She'd had her first taste of modern medicine and he'd stroked her hair as she settled against his pillows, promising she'd feel much better in the morning and so grateful that he'd been able to take her home, where things like a silly fever won't kill her.

He'd barely slept through the night, wide awake and staring at her as she slept, terrified that if he

shut his eyes, he'd wake up alone and the whole thing will have been a wonderful, impossible dream. And now she's in his kitchen, sitting at the bar and still dressed in his clothes, waiting for her breakfast. Matt had forced himself to abandon her side to get ready. As much as he hates to leave her for even a second, especially when she only just arrived, he has rehearsals today and he can't miss them.

Brushing his teeth and staring at his tired, elated reflection in the bathroom mirror, he contemplates taking her with him but quickly decides against it. She hasn't even familiarized herself with his flat yet, and taking her out into the middle of London would be something akin to a combination of sensory overload and culture shock. She'll have to remain here for the day and then he'll have the entire weekend to help her become acquainted with this new, undoubtedly scary world.

A startled yelp from the kitchen quickly followed by the noisy scrape of a barstool sliding backwards and then crashing into the floor sends Matt into panic mode. He spits, drops his toothbrush in the sink and slides in his socks down the hall and into the kitchen, still wiping the toothpaste from his mouth. The kitchen is empty and he panics for a moment, wondering if she'd somehow been sent back and oh god what if it had only been temporary – "Alex?" He calls out, a desperate edge to his voice.

"Here," comes the soft reply and he takes a brief second to calm his racing heart, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. Following the sound of her voice he finds the barstool on the floor and Alex tucked away under the counter, wide-eyed and pale.

He laughs softly, holding out a hand to her. "Sweetheart, what are you doing under there?"

She refuses his hand, peering around the counter and pointing on top of it. "The silver box tried to kill me by throwing toasted bread."

Matt bites his lip hard and pinches the bridge of his nose to contain a snort of laughter, quickly schooling his features into something he hopes is soothing and not amused. "It's the toaster, Alex. It toasts your bread for you and then pops it back up," he explains gently, still holding out a hand to her. "It isn't trying to kill you, I promise."

At his encouraging look, she hesitantly takes it and allows him to help her stand. Instantly pressing herself against his side, she turns her head and eyes the toaster suspiciously. Matt presses a swift kiss to her temple and steps away from her, plucking out her toast and putting it on a plate. He rummages in the fridge to find the raspberry jam, picks up a butter knife and turns back to her with a flourish. "See? Breakfast."

He sets the plate in front of her and rights her overturned barstool, watching fondly as she spreads

the jam over her bread and takes a tentative bite. Her eyes light up as she chews and the moment she swallows, she reaches out a hand and pats the toaster cautiously, like it might bite. "I suppose the silver box does have its merit."

Matt steals a bite of her breakfast and presses a warm, raspberry flavored kiss to her waiting mouth, murmuring, "Wait until you try Nutella."

Before he leaves for the day, he shows her how to use the television so she can keep herself entertained and the phone so she can call him if she needs him. She lingers in the doorway with him, still dressed in his clothes and looking an adorable mess rather than her usual regally wealthy self. His hands settle on her hips and he kisses her goodbye with dedicated thoroughness, whimpering with loss when she pulls away. "I'll be here when you get back, darling," she says softly, blinking green eyes up at him. "I promise I'm not going anywhere."

"Course not." He kisses the tip of her nose and smiles when she wrinkles it. "You belong here now."

He's distracted all day at rehearsals, thinking only of Alex back in his flat waiting for him, and impatient to get back to her. She calls him in the middle of a musical number and though he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, he can't stop until the song is over. The moment they get a break, he scurries offstage and outside for some privacy, checking his phone as he goes. He has a voicemail message from her and he presses the phone to his ear, listening intently.

"Is it – hello? Matthew, are you there? This peculiar little device had your voice and then it beeped at me. I really don't understand this world at all. Little boxes do everything for you!" She huffs, sounding disgruntled. "Darling, the people in the moving picture box keep laughing but I don't understand any of the jokes. And did you know all the women seem to be wearing trousers? You never said anything about trousers!" She pauses. "Oh, I feel terribly silly talking to this thing. I shall see you when you return. How do I end this? Is it like a letter? Erm, all my love, Alex." She sighs when the phone still doesn't turn off. "Lord, must these boxes be so complicated? Perhaps this button -"

The message ends and he knows she'd found the button to hang up the call. Matt stands outside the theatre, grinning ridiculously at a brick wall and plays the voicemail again.

"I am not coming out."

"What? Why not?"

"Because you can see my knees, Matthew." Through the door, he hears her scandalized whisper. "I look like a strumpet!"

Standing outside her dressing room in Harrods, Matt rolls his eyes. "I seriously doubt that." He leans in close and presses his forehead to the door, murmuring, "I bet you look beautiful."

He can almost hear her shaking her head stubbornly.

"Come on, sweetheart. Let me see you." They'd spent all of Friday evening and Saturday morning in bed together, Matt explaining the jokes on television as best as he could and making love to her whenever he could distract her from Monty Python long enough. He'd finally managed to drag them both out of bed in the afternoon, knowing Alex needed some essentials. They've been shopping all day, buying perfume and deodorant, razors and shaving cream, makeup and hair products, bras and underwear – the trip into the lingerie department had left Alex blushing but delighted that she no longer has to wear a corset – and now he's finally managed to push her into a dressing room with clothes she hadn't cringed away from the sight of. At her continued silence, he sighs. "Please?"

The lock clicks and he jumps back as the door swings open and Alex appears, looking mortified as she allows him a glimpse of her red sundress. It feels strange to see her outside of her expensive

silk gowns and tightly laced corsets, but the 21st century suits her beautifully. The hem of the dress falls just above her knees and the neckline is fairly modest, only showing a hint of cleavage. The fabric nips in at the waist, accentuating her tiny waistline and the color somehow makes her hair even blonder than ever. He reaches out, mesmerized, to stroke a fingertip over a golden curl. Alex bites her lip, glancing down. "I told you I looked silly."

"You look amazing," he counters softly, smiling when she glances up. "I know it must seem strange to you right now, but I can promise you no woman has ever looked so gorgeous in a little cotton dress." She blushes, looking pleased, and he can't resist the urge to lean in and press his lips to her pink cheek.

Her small hands curl into his shirt and she hides a smile into his neck. "I suppose I'll take this one then."

"That's my girl." He turns his head to kiss her but she slips from his grasp and shuts the door in his face with a giggle. "Oi! Rude, Miss Manners," he grumbles, amused despite himself.

"I've got a surprise for you," she calls, and he listens to her struggle out of her dress, wishing he were in there helping. He waits patiently, leaning against the wall opposite her dressing room and nodding politely at anyone who wanders by and stares, wondering what Matt Smith is doing standing in the ladies dressing room.

The moment the door opens again, he forgets all about anyone and anything else but Alex. She wiggles her bare toes against the floor and glances down self-consciously as he stares, his mouth dry. His prim and proper Alex stands there in a white t-shirt and tight jeans, the denim hugging the curve of her arse and clinging to her thighs. Sodding hell.

Alex smoothes nervous hands over her thighs and says lightly, "I must admit, they're quite comfortable. I understand now why you wear them all the time."

He swallows thickly. "All due respect, sweetheart, but they've never looked like that on me."

She grins, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. "Is that a yes on the trousers?"

Stumbling a bit in his haste to get to her, Matt slides his hands over her hips and down, curling his fingers over her bum and squeezing. Alex squeaks in alarm, arching involuntarily into him as he bends his head and brushes his mouth over her ear. "That's a hell yes on the trousers."

She swats at his hands, flushing. "Honestly, darling. We're in public."

"No one cares," he whinges, reaching for her again.

"I care," she snips, and shuts the door in his face once more.

Matt pouts, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can you at least wear them home then?"

"If you promise to keep your hands to yourself like a gentleman," she calls back.

Frowning and promising himself the next item on his agenda is to get Alex used to public displays of affection, he sighs. "Fine. I'll behave."

It's difficult but he manages to keep his promise through the next two hours they spend shopping for shoes. Alex seems particularly delighted with her Chuck Taylors, practically bouncing all the way home in them, and he resolves to come back later without her and buy her a pair in every

color. For now, he has a denim-clad 19th century goddess who needs to be taken home and ravished.

He drops their shopping bags and slides a hand over her bum again in the lift just as the doors shut, victorious when Alex doesn't swat him away. "You know, there were quite a few women we saw today wearing trousers just like these and I didn't see you drooling over any of them."

He snorts, slipping a hand into the back pocket of her trousers and just so damn elated that she's really here – and wearing jeans of all things. "I don't give a toss about any other woman in trousers. It's you in trousers that's driving me bloody mad." He draws her close and buries his face in her hair, kissing the crook of her neck. "Lady Alex wearing such rough, peasant clothing? God, I could have you right here."

"Matthew," she scolds breathlessly, cheeks pink with pleasure.

The lift jolts to a stop and Alex clings to him, still wary of the contraption, until the doors slide open. He steps away from her reluctantly and starts gathering their bags again, ushering her out the door and into the hall. "Come on then, sweetheart," he says, watching her arse with a grin as she walks in front of him. "Let's go inside and you can teach me some manners."

She glances back in surprise, sees the focus of his gaze and gasps, swatting at him.

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.

"Alex, sweetheart -"

Up, down. Up, down. Up, down.

"Could you maybe just -"

Up, down. Up –

He flips the child lock on the car windows and breathes a sigh of relief. Alex turns to look at him, pouting. "Sorry," he says, grinning. "But it was getting a bit annoying."

Undeterred, she goes back to running her fingers over the leather upholstery, eyes lit up, and he wonders if he'll ever stop finding her fascination with the world utterly charming. "This is much finer than even Ralph's carriages," she murmurs appreciatively.

"One day, I'll teach you to drive it by yourself," he promises, glancing at her just in time to catch a glimpse of the beaming grin she bestows him with.

She pokes at the cup holder, fiddles with the radio knobs and generally entertains herself as Matt drives in the direction of his parents' home. The moment he'd called and told them the woman from his travels he'd fallen in love with had traveled back with him, they've been endlessly harassing him to bring her home. He still doesn't think she's quite ready to face his family but Alex had insisted with enthusiasm and he really doesn't want his mother just popping by the flat while he's at rehearsals to interrogate Alex alone.

"Will they like me?"

"Who? My family?" He takes his eyes from the road to look at her and finds Alex watching him with uncertainty. His chest aches and he wishes he could take her into his arms and show her just how loveable she is. It's impossible not to adore Alex and he knows his family will be no different. They've listened to his stories, watched him fall in love and worried all the while that he would get his heart broken. They're almost as overjoyed as he is to have Alex here. "They've done nothing but listen to me talk about you since I met you. They're dying to meet you, sweetheart."

She blinks at him. "You talked about me?"

"Course I did," he says. "You expect me to fall in love at first sight and never say a word to anybody?"

Alex stares, eyes growing round and wet. "At first sight? Really?"

"The second I laid eyes on you," he winks, grinning when she flushes.

"You never said."

"You were married. And a bit stuffy."

Alex sniffs, clearly insulted. "Technically, I'm still married."

"Are not." He scowls. "He's dead."

She flinches and he instantly feels like a twat.

"Sweetheart -"

"It's fine," she says, offering him a meek smile. "I'm just still getting used to knowing everyone I ever knew is dead now. My parents, my sisters, Ralph, even Sid."

Swallowing, Matt reaches out a hand to squeeze her knee and wishes she didn't have to be the only one to lose everything. She presses her hand over his and doesn't push him away. She doesn't blame him. She never would. Gradually, the knot in his chest lessens and the guilt along with it. It comes and goes, usually when he sees that distant look in her eyes, or when she suddenly stares at the new world around her in fear rather than awe.

He keeps glancing at her, just to make sure she really is fine, and when a classic rock song comes on the radio, he sees her nose wrinkle. "That poor man sounds as if he needs your cough syrup, darling."

He snorts, grasping her fingers. "His voice is always that scratchy, sweetheart. You can turn it off if you like."

She shakes her head stubbornly. "No, I live here now and this is what people here like."

"Not all of them," he reasons, kissing her fingertips without taking his eyes from the road. "If everyone liked the same music, it would be pretty boring."

She closes her eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. "This is… wait, don't tell me." She's been occupying herself by studying while he's out during the day, consuming hours of television, books, movies and music in an admirable effort to catch up on hundreds of years worth of pop culture. "KISS?"

He grins. "Close. AC/DC."

"Bollocks."

Matt chokes, swerving a little as he turns to look at her with wide eyes. Alex claps a mortified hand over her mouth, her whole face turning bright red. "What did you just say?"

She buries her face in her hands. "Oh my goodness. That was terribly rude."

He guffaws, laughing so hard he can't breathe and the road in front of him becomes a blur through the tears in his eyes. "I can't believe you just said that," he wheezes.

Alex scowls at him, peeking through her fingers. "It's this world of yours – it's a dreadful influence! Don't laugh at me, Matthew!"

His parents and sister are actually waiting outside for them, like some sort of bizarre welcoming committee, and Matt grumbles under his breath because he had specifically asked them not to be, well, them for fear of scaring Alex. At least they'd listened when he ordered them not to dress up in regency clothes to make her feel more at home. Jesus.

Alex peers at them through the windshield as he puts the car into park, looking hopeful. "They seem very friendly."

They wave at her, grinning. Looking startled, Alex copies them.

Matt stifles a snort and inclines his head. "Come on then. Let's get this over with." He gets out of the car first and opens her door for her, mostly because she hasn't yet figured out how to get out

on her own, taking her hand to help her out and not letting go once she's on her feet. Instead, he pulls her just a little closer into his side. Together, they walk up the drive to greet his parents and sister on the porch. He clears his throat, shaking his head at his mother's excited grin and the way Laura bounces impatiently on the balls of her feet. Lunatics, all of them. What was he thinking bringing Alex here?

"Family, this is Alex," he gestures to the women nestled into his side and trembling a little, "Alex, this is my family. Me mum and dad Lynne and David, and that madwoman is my sister Laura."

Adorably, Alex ducks her head and curtsies and he rather loves the way she falls back on her deeply ingrained manners when she's nervous. "Pleased to meet you."

Laura squeaks. "Oh, aren't you just darling?"

Lynne nudges her, smiling widely. "The pleasure is ours, Lady Alex. Matty has gone on about you so much I feel as if I know you already."

Flushing, Matt glares at his mother.

Alex glances at him with a glowing smile. "I didn't believe I would ever have the pleasure of meeting Matt's family. I'm very glad to have been mistaken. He spoke of you often as well."

"In between snogging you senseless, I'm sure," Laura says, eyes glinting mischievously. "Matty always did have a weakness for the uptight ones. Must be quite the hellions in the be-"

"Lor."

As Alex flushes brightly, Matt makes a mental note to strangle his sister later – perhaps after dinner. "Matt was always a gentleman," Alex assures them softly, eyes darting to him quickly, and he wants to laugh because all she did when he visited was remind him how ungentlemanly he was. She still does that. "You raised him well, Mr. and Mrs. Smith."

"Oh, Lynne and David, poppet. We insist." David elbows his wife and daughter aside, turning to Alex with the gentlest smile Matt has ever seen him wear. He offers her his arm and looking pleasantly surprised, Alex takes it. "Come along, my dear. We're having a barbeque just for you and I'll make you anything you like. How about a hotdog?"

As he escorts her into the house, Alex looks up at him in confusion. "Oh, I love dogs. I couldn't possibly eat one." She pauses as Lynne scurries after them, taking her other arm. "May I ask why it's hot? Is it wrapped in a blanket?"

Cackling, Laura turns to him the moment they're all gone, tears of laughter in her eyes. "Oh my god, I adore her already – she'll be such fun at parties. Can we keep her?"

"I plan on it." He scowls at her. "But I'm renouncing the rest of you."

Their shopping trolley is full of every junk food imaginable – crisps of every flavor, chocolate, cakes, toffees, custard, sugary cereal – but Alex stands at his side happily as they wait in the queue, and he really needs to start learning to say no before they're both grossly overweight. She'd just been so cute, roaming the aisles and tossing things into the trolley whenever they caught her fancy. She'd turned to him and said in a hushed whisper, "They have everything. Are you sure it isn't magic?"

He'd spirited her away from everything she's ever known and, by god, if all she asks for in return is her choice of sweets in the supermarket, then he'll bloody well make sure she gets every single thing she wants in every imaginable flavor. He wraps his arm around her waist as they wait their turn to pay and Alex tenses for only a moment before leaning in to him, more and more comfortable with his affections in public.

He presses a kiss into her hair and feels her stiffen. Puzzled, he opens his mouth to apologize when she whirls on him, eyes wide. "Darling, what is that?"

He follows her gaze and finds himself staring at the magazine rack, hoping to god she hasn't spotted pictures of the two of them in a tabloid. For the most part, he's been able to shield her from media attention. It isn't a picture of them she's looking at, but rather a buxom celebrity on the cover of Maxim, which is almost worse. Wincing, he resists the urge to clap a hand over her eyes

and protect her 19th century sensibilities from the scantily clad woman. "It's a magazine," he explains. "For men."

"Then why is there a half dressed woman on the cover?"

She sounds genuinely confused, bless her heart.

"Well…" Matt scrubs a hand over the back of his neck awkwardly. "Some men – only some mind, not me – like to look at half dressed women for their own pleasure." At her blank stare, he adds, "For their…erm, sexual pleasure."

He watches as the implication of what he just said dawns on her, rather adoring the appalled widening of her eyes. "Oh." She crinkles her nose. "That's vile."

Nodding, he sighs and ushers her forward in the queue. "Wait until I show you internet porn."

He knows it can't be easy for her – one day she was living in a vast, opulent manor with too many rooms to count and now she's here, sharing his tiny flat with him and struggling to find space for her rapidly accumulating possessions. Alex never complains, of course, and he doesn't think it would even occur to her to do so. She's just happy to be with him and safe in the knowledge that he isn't going to disappear on her anymore – she certainly makes sure of that, forcing him to take his medication every morning in case he forgets.

Still… he wants to do something for her. He wants to do something to make the transition to the

21st century as easy as possible. The only thing that comes to mind is to give Alex a garden. She loved caring for her plants and spending time outdoors with them, and while he'll never be able to give her the equivalent of the enormous one Alex looked after in her old home, he hopes to give her just a little something to remind her of it.

He walks home after another day of rehearsals laden down with seeds, a flowerpot, and a small bag of soil, hoping to surprise her but as he unlocks the door to their flat and steps inside, he realizes she isn't the only one due for a surprise. The flat is in a state of chaos, smoke filling the air, the smoke detector blaring and above the din, Alex's voice.

Dropping his things by the door, Matt rushes toward the kitchen, waving at the smoke in the air and forcing back the rush of tears as it stings his eyes. "Alex? What the hell is going on?" He vaguely registers her standing in front of the stove but he doesn't give her his full attention yet, dragging a kitchen chair beneath the smoke detector and standing on it.

The moment he switches the detector off, blessed silence fills the flat and he sighs in relief, dropping from the chair and pushing it back to the table. Smoke still lingers in the air and he turns

to open a window only to find Alex staring at him, wide-eyed and tearful. "Sweetheart? Are you alright?" He abandons the window and hurries to her side, taking her hands in his. "Are you hurt? Did you burn yourself? Let me see-"

She shakes her head and glances over her shoulder at the stove, where a cake pan sits. Inside the pan is a charred, burnt confection he imagines was supposed to be edible at some point. Right now, he doubts even a hungry dog would be tempted. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Well…" He grins. "I'm certainly that."

Her bottom lip trembles.

"Oh shit, don't do that." He gathers her into his arms and holds her close, burying his face in her hair and biting back a smile when he realizes her curls smell like smoke and baking powder. "You'll get the hang of it, sweetheart. It just takes practice."

She sniffles. "This was the second cake!"

Matt stifles a chuckle, shoulders trembling. It really isn't funny but she's just so adorable, damn her. "You'll get it," he promises. "I'll help you next time, yeah?"

Nodding, she relaxes against him and purses her lips against his collarbone, nuzzling her nose against his skin. "Thank you," she says. "For being so patient with me."

"S'not patience," he says, threading a hand through her hair. "I love you, Alex."

Alex sniffles again weakly and kisses his jaw. "I love you too, darling."

He squeezes her just a little tighter and then lets go, pulling back to smile widely at her. "Come on then, I've got a surprise for you."

She lights up instantly and he really shouldn't love how much she loves being spoiled. "What kind of surprise?"

Dragging her into the living room, he gestures to the seed packet, flowerpot and bag of soil sitting by the door and suddenly feels a little self-conscious. She's used to so much more than he can give her. What does a little garden on the windowsill and the fire escape mean to a woman who used to have all the land she could desire? Scratching the back of his head, he watches her kneel down to inspect her gifts and mumbles, "I thought you might like to start a little garden here. On the fire escape, I mean."

Alex says nothing, staring at the packet of seeds in her hand.

"I know it's not much but I dunno, I thought it was better than nothing and I know it can't compare to what Ralph could give you -"

"Oh shut up, you perfect idiot." Alex tips her face up to look at him, fresh tears in her eyes. "This is so much more than Ralph ever gave me. It's lovely."

He grins hopefully, hands in his pockets. "Yeah?"

She nods, smiling softly.

"Hang on, did you just tell me to shut up? And call me an idiot?"

Alex laughs at his shocked tone but it quickly turns into a shriek of surprise when he suddenly throws himself at her, tackling her to the floor. She squirms beneath him, laughing brightly even as she struggles, and he mouths at the neckline of her blouse with a rumbled, "I love it when you're rude."

She'd insisted on going to see his show on opening night and he'd decided she had acclimated

enough to 21st century forms of entertainment to watch without fainting. He gets her a seat in the front row and hopes she won't be too scandalized by what she's about to see. It turns out, he needn't have worried. Apparently, the sight of him on stage in his underwear performing lurid acts with a teddy bear, or later, covered in artificial blood, has awakened a passion in Alex.

She clings to him during the after party, as affectionate in public as he's ever seen her, her cheeks flushed and her smile wide as he introduces her to everyone as his girlfriend Alex. He must look

as besotted as he feels because the other cast members and his friends keep shooting him amused looks and nudging him knowingly.

"So…" Karen raises an eyebrow at them, probably wondering why he never bothered to mention a girlfriend. She and Arthur both know about his tendency to travel – he had to tell them after a long, stressful day of filming and forgetting to take his medication had caused him to disappear right in front of them – but telling them about Alex was another matter entirely. He can only imagine the sympathetic looks they'd have given him if he'd told them he fell in love with a woman from the past. "How did you two meet?"

Alex's eyes widen. "Well – in a garden."

"In the park," Matt cuts in just as she answers.

Karen blinks at them.

"In a garden in the park," he amends, squeezing Alex's hip. "She was reading on a blanket and I almost tripped over her."

Karen snorts. "Of course you did."

"Oi!"

She ignores him, grinning mischievously. "Love at first sight, was it?"

Her eyes ask another question entirely. Does she know?

"For me it was." He turns his face into Alex's hair and offers a subtle nod. Yes. "Alex hated me."

"I did not!" Alex turns to him, looking genuinely upset by the idea, and he kisses her nose. "You just had terrible manners."

Karen throws back her head and laughs.

It's the early hours of the morning before they can tear themselves away from the party, taking the train back to his flat. Alex hates pretty much any locomotive but his car, but the train is relatively empty and she lets him distract her with kisses, his hands threaded through her hair and his mouth hot and hungry against hers. She clings to him, little hands sliding beneath his t-shirt and oh god, he loves it when she forgets herself in public. His proper and prim Alex doing anything remotely naughty and forbidden turns him on more than any other woman's most shameless act.

They stumble off the train with swollen mouths and glittering eyes, holding hands for the walk back to his flat. Alex still likes walking through the streets and admiring the "ecceltricity" and Matt loves indulging her. He tugs her along, stopping patiently when she gets distracted by something shiny, and eventually leads her all the way back to their flat. He kisses her again in the lift and she sighs softly, her mind quickly turning back to touching as much of him as she can.

It's her turn to drag him now, and they stagger through the flat and into their bedroom, shedding clothes as they go. Matt follows her to the bed, a hand behind her head as they ease onto the mattress. He hovers over her, kissing her languidly and running his hands over soft, naked skin. Alex wraps her legs around his waist with an impatient little noise that thrills him to his core, lifting her hips to slide the slickness of her sex over his erection.

He groans, pinning her hips to the bed, and she looks up at him with sparkling eyes. "Have you always been so naughty?"

She shakes her head, biting her lip against as moan when he dips his head to suck a pert nipple into his mouth. "Your doing," she says breathlessly, hands pressed against his back.

"That's right," he says, swallowing a grin as he strokes his tongue over the soft skin between her breasts. "I've created a sexy little monster."

She giggles but he shifts his hips and eases inside her, turning the sound of her laughter into a soft moan. He watches her face, enraptured with the sight of her fluttering eyes and open mouth, the delicate flush on her cheeks. Her hair frames her face in wild ringlets and her hands clutch at him, urging him on. "Darling," she whispers, and he kisses her.

Between the steady movement of their hips together and the brush of their lips, hot breath exchanged between them, he murmurs to her, telling her that she's a dream he never wants to wake up from, that he loves her desperately, that he wants to marry her and spend the rest of his life making her blissfully happy and spoiled. Alex wraps herself around him and moans, threading her fingers through his short hair and scratching her nails down his back. She feels incredible, hot and slick around him, and he cherishes every single sound that escapes those parted lips, every

sigh, every moan, every plea of yes there, but nothing on earth will ever come close to the way she breathes his name in his ear right before she comes.

He follows moments after, fingers digging into her thighs and his face pressed to her chest as his hips give one last stutter. Alex strokes her hands over his back as he spills inside her, humming softly while he catches his breath. "Love you," he says, and presses a kiss to her breast before sliding out of her and rolling over onto his back, panting.

She curls around him instantly, slipping a leg between his and pillowing her head on his chest. "Enough to marry me?"

He turns his face into her sweat damp curls and frowns. "What?"

"You said you wanted to marry me," she points out softly. "Did you mean it?"

He smiles, imagining Alex actually planning the ceremony – for some reason, he pictures doves. "More than I've ever meant anything."

"And was that your proposal?"

Snorting at the disapproval evident in her tone, Matt shakes his head. "No. You'll know when I propose to you, Lady Alex. I'll probably be holding some outrageously expensive, sparkly ring for your pretty hand."

At her happy hum, he kisses her temple. "Could we get a dog when we're married? I believe I would like another dog."

"Sure." He stretches languidly. "We'll call him Sid Vicious II."

She laughs quietly but he senses a change in her mood and she proves him right with her next tentative words. "Ralph gave me a dog because he said it was the next best thing to a child."

Heart aching, Matt turns on his side and she follows suit so they're propped up on their elbows and looking at each other. "You know," he ventures hesitantly, and licks his lip, oddly nervous. "There have been… advances in medicine since your time, Alex." She nods, looking at him

innocently and probably thinking of the medicine he gave her the first night she arrived. "There are places called fertility clinics and they help people who have trouble conceiving a child. They could help you – help us – if you want. When you're ready."

She blinks rapidly, tears welling in her eyes, and he wonders how it must feel to be told something so desired but unattainable is suddenly within reach. "We could -" She stops, voice catching, and swallows. He reaches out a hand and cups her cheek tenderly. "A baby?"

He nods, smiling. "You, me, and twenty of them if you want. Course, we'd have to move but maybe we could find a place with a decent garden and room for dogs and-"

Alex crosses the space between them, frames his face in her shaking hands, and kisses him hard. "Tell me I'm really here. Tell me I'm not going to wake up alone and realize you're still gone."

"You're really here," he promises, moving to pin her beneath him. He brushes his lips softly over hers and over her cheeks, her forehead, the soft skin of her eyelids and tastes the salt of her tears on her eyelashes. "And you'll never have to watch me disappear again."

The past in her eyes and the future in the curl her smile, his Miss Manners draws him down for another kiss and for once, Matt stops thinking about anything at all but the present.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	9. Chapter 9

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/461209.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2012-07-16 Completed: 2012-10-05 Chapters: 12/12

Words: 57485

 **The reckless magic of your mouth**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

Matt has just met the woman of his dreams. Unfortunately, she's also his new stepmother.

Notes

The long-awaited stepmother fic! Finally. –collapses- I don't even know what this is. The result of my perverted mind, obviously. Hopefully you all enjoy it. Story title comes from 'My love is building a building' by ee cummings. Chapter title from Mrs. Robinson by Simon and Garfunkel.

Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home

Laura calls him just as he's stepping off the tube and Matt pulls his phone from his trouser pocket while he weaves through the crowded underground. "Hello?"

"Guess who's married? Again."

He almost growls into the phone. "You're taking the piss."

"I wish I was."

Matt steps around a couple arguing on the stairs. "Isn't he getting a bit old for this?"

"Please, he'll be in his seventies and still on the prowl."

He sighs. "How old is this one? Twelve?"

Laura snorts. "Actually, she's in her forties."

Laughing, Matt shakes his head. "Now I know you're taking the mickey. Why would he marry someone only ten years younger than him? Shouldn't she be in her twenties with a boob job? Isn't the whole point to have a trophy wife to parade around?"

"Well this one certainly isn't his usual. For one, her boobs aren't fake. At least as far as I can tell, anyway. Maybe I should ask him." Matt wrinkles his nose in disgust even as Laura continues, sounding intrigued. "She's actually a decent person. Fabulous hair too. I'll be sad to see her go in six months."

"Don't get attached," he warns her. "Remember last time you got attached? It wasn't pretty."

"Shut up," Laura says, and he can feel her scowling through the phone. "I was twelve, okay? There have been plenty of others since and I've learned my lesson. And anyway, you really need to come meet this one. The only one with a brain he's married so far. Might as well see the show

before it leaves town."

He shrugs, though his sister can't see him. "Maybe. Could use a break from Daisy and her shite anyway. So what's our new stepmummy's name? I'm guessing it isn't something like Candy or Pippi like the last two?"

"Alex," Laura says, rolling the name around on her tongue like it's a foreign moniker. "Alex Kingston."

"Kingston," he muses. "Cool name."

Laura huffs. "Are you coming or not? Dad's forcing me to stay for three weeks because he says he never sees me anymore. I cannot handle him without you. Please."

He groans at her wheedling tone. "Three weeks? How are you even getting away from work for that long?"

"I'm not," she says with a grumble. "I'm commuting. And you just finished your play – there is no reason why you can't take a break and support your sister, you prick. And I know you'll go anywhere if it means you'll get away from The Slag."

Matt rolls his eyes – Laura's pet name for Daisy has gotten him into trouble more than once – but he can't deny the truth of her words. He doesn't even know why he stays with Daisy; she drives him mad and not in any sort of enjoyable way. Lately he's been even more miserable than usual. Maybe it's time for a break.

"Fine, fine." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'll talk to Daisy."

Two days later, Matt stands in the middle of the flower section of the supermarket in his hometown, eyes scanning the selection as he holds his mobile to his ear. "Dais, I never see my father. I'm just spending a bit of time there with him and his new wife -"

"You can't stand his wives," Daisy points out, huffing. "You never go home because you hate

dealing with the way he has a new one every six months. Why would you spend three weeks there?"

Because I need to get away from you.

"Because Laura asked me to," he says, looking around for the roses. Yellow roses are his go-to choice for new stepmothers. They always like yellow roses. "I told you, Daisy. I just need this. We need this."

Daisy says nothing and he knows she's silently fuming.

"We'll talk when I get back, alright?"

"Fine," she says, and hangs up.

Sighing, Matt makes a face at his phone and tucks it away in his trouser pocket. He'd suggested before he left that a break might be needed in their relationship and she'd still called him not twenty-four hours after he'd left. Three weeks away from her might not help their relationship but it will certainly help his mental health.

Finally spotting the roses in the vast array of flowers, Matt mutters, "Aha," and walks over to them, reaching out to snatch up a bouquet of yellow ones just as another hand does the same – a small hand, warm and soft. Their fingers brush and he yanks his hand back at the sudden electricity, like lightning in his veins.

A little breathless, he glances up at the owner of the hand and gapes. Warm green eyes dancing with amusement stare back at him, framed by a mass of dark curly hair the likes of which he has never seen. "S-sorry," he stutters, flexing his still-tingling hand. "Did you want -"

"Well I did," she smiles, and Matt nearly chokes. "But if you tell me why you need them, I might let you have them. If I like your reason, that is."

Wide-eyed, Matt watches her pick up the bouquet of yellow roses and hold them to her, inhaling their scent with her eyes still on his. She's flirting with him – a gorgeous woman in the supermarket is flirting with him and he should not be feeling a distinctive tightening in his trousers just because she's batting her eyelashes.

But bloody hell is she gorgeous.

Eyes sweeping briefly over her frame, he takes in the petite, shapely hourglass figure and the summer dress that hugs marvelous curves and feels his mouth water. She's still smiling at him but not as widely as before, just a little smirk playing at her lips and Matt jerks his eyes away when he finds himself staring too long.

"I-uh," he stops, struggling to get a hold of himself as the woman tilts her head to the side, brow furrowed. He is a natural flirt; what the hell is the matter with him? "They're for my stepmother, actually. Stepmothers like roses, right?"

"And poisoned apples." Her smile widens. "I'm rather fond of tulips, myself." She gestures to the display across the aisle. "She might like them better – shows you made an effort and didn't just grab something generic."

He frowns in thought. "Perhaps. What color? I suppose it doesn't really matter – with my father's track record she won't last more than a few months."

She laughs and the sound is like his favorite melody, though he's never heard it before. "Might want to try the sweetpea flower then. Means goodbye."

He snorts, genuinely amused. "Do you think she'd know what it meant?"

"Most people don't," she says, glancing down at the yellow roses in her hand. "I'm sure you'd be perfectly safe in giving them to her."

He picks up a dainty flowerpot overflowing with fragile little sweetpea flowers and smiles. "Well then, you're welcome to your roses."

"Thank you," she says, grinning at him. "They'll certainly brighten up that dreary old house. Just moved in, you see."

Thinking of his father's home – a drafty estate that's been in the family for years – he knows how she feels. There is never enough sunlight in that house no matter how many curtains are opened or doors flung wide. He spent his childhood summers outside as often as possible and the winters

sitting in his room and imagining he could feel the sun on his skin.

"Glad I could help then," he says, smile widening as he steps a little closer to her. He can smell the roses in her hand and something else over even that overpowering scent – a strange combination of floral perfume and paint. It's a strange, heady mix that leaves him a little dizzy as he stares down at her. "Though I'm sure you're sunlight enough all on your own."

She laughs, tossing curls over her shoulder. "Well I can liven up a room, honey, I'll tell you that."

He grins, utterly charmed and not quite sure why. She's older than him, much older than the type he usually goes for but it doesn't seem to matter. She's gorgeous with an amazing smile and she smells brilliant and he just wants to take her out and listen to her talk. He's known her all of five minutes and he already wants to pull her in and kiss her senseless.

"Look, I know this might seem a bit forward but -"

At that moment, she reaches up a hand to brush a few red-tinted ringlets away from her eyes and he feels his heart sink as he spots the wedding band glistening on her finger.

Of course, she's married.

Why wouldn't she be?

"What is it, dear?"

He blinks, swallowing back the disappointment. "Nothing," he says, offering her a smile. "Just… thank you for your help."

She smiles. "You're welcome." With one last bat of those eyelashes, she turns on her heel and goes back to her shopping cart, walking away with the yellow roses and a tiny piece of Matt's heart.

He watches her hips sway as she walks and smiles a little, muttering under his breath, "Goodbye, Flower Lady."

Matt makes one more stop to pick up a box of cigars for his father before driving to the place that never really felt like home, even when he lived there. It's why he left when he was seventeen, got a job and moved to London, acting on the side and trying to make a name for himself.

He hasn't been home in almost a year, not since his father divorced Marion. He'd liked Marion – she'd grown tired of his father and left him. His father getting dumped had been a first, and Matt still smiles with pride at the thought of Marion packing her things and throwing her wedding ring at David's head before marching out. She'd been brilliant, that one.

Pulling into the long driveway leading up to the estate, he wonders if this new wife will have the gumption Marion did. He doubts it – they usually stay until the shine of newly-wedded bliss wears off and David goes on to find someone else. It's why Matt never really likes or respects any of them – how can he when they let themselves be doormats for a man who won't hesitate to walk all over them?

As the house comes into view between the trees, Matt sees Laura's car parked outside the house, along with his father's and another car he doesn't recognize – a powder blue vintage 60's Corvette. He whistles lowly at the sight of it. Must have been a wedding gift for his father's new bride.

Turning off his car, Matt pulls off his sunglasses and reaches for the little flowerpot in the passenger seat next to him – he'll never see another sweetpea plant without thinking of curls and the scent of paint. He carries the flowerpot with him to the boot of his car, dragging out his bag and throwing the strap over his shoulder.

When he gets to the front steps and pushes the doorbell, he expects his father or Laura to answer but instead, when the door swings open, he comes face to face with bright green eyes and dark curls. They gasp simultaneously, staring at one another in shock.

"Alex?" His father calls from inside the house. "Is that Matt?"

She swallows and calls back without taking her eyes from Matt, "Yes, David. It's-it's your son."

Matt tears his eyes from hers and glances down at the little flowerpot in his hand. Sweetpeas.

They mean goodbye.

Oh god. He'd told his own stepmother she wouldn't be around for very long. And he'd flirted with her. He'd watched her arse while she walked away. He'd almost asked out his own stepmother.

Gulping, he holds out the plant tentatively. "Hello, Flower Lady."

She glares at the plant, obviously remembering her own advice, and Matt thinks she is just about to tell him where he could stick that flowerpot when his father comes up behind her, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her into the house.

"What are you two standing in the doorway for?" He asks, letting go of her to motion Matt inside. "Come on. You're staying aren't you?"

Matt nods, tearing his eyes from the dark-haired enigma in front of him to smile stiffly at his father. "If you'll have me for a few weeks, yes."

David claps him on the back, obviously uncomfortable but wanting to show that he'd missed him. Being affectionate with his children has never been David's strong point. "You're always welcome here, son. You're the one who stays away so long."

"Right," he says, not wanting to argue yet again about why he does, especially not with an extra pair of eyes on them.

As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, David turns back to his new wife with a smile, holding out a hand for her to take. "You haven't met Alex yet, have you?"

Matt shakes his head, lying through his teeth as he looks at Alex. "No, I haven't had the pleasure." He holds out a hand to her and Alex shakes it reluctantly, still eyeing the plant in his other hand. "And this is for you. Someone else took the last of the yellow roses."

She finally takes the plant, holding it delicately in front of her as she meets his eyes with a cheeky smile. "I'm sure if you would have asked nicely, you could have had them."

He shrugs. "Thought those might be a bit more appropriate, considering the circumstances."

Her eyes narrow but she wisely says nothing, considering David is watching them with the slightest hint of confusion. "How thoughtful." She puts a hand to David's arm, smiling. "Excuse me while I tend to these." Her gaze flicks back in his direction briefly. "Lovely to meet you, Matthew."

"Likewise," he mutters, watching her walk away for the second time.

His father clears his throat suddenly and Matt quickly looks away, trying to pretend like he hadn't just been staring at his stepmother's arse.

Again.

Hello, Freud. Is this sofa free?

He's going to have to remember to have a mental breakdown about this later. For now, he smiles nervously at his father and pulls out the box of cigars. "Picked these up on the way here," he says. "Still your favorite, I hope."

David smiles, taking the box and opening it to sniff appreciatively. "Can't go wrong with a good cigar." Selecting one, he pops it into his mouth and begins searching his pockets for a lighter. "Thank you, son. Now, I've got to go call the office but you remember where your room is, don't you?"

Not acknowledging the subtle dig, Matt just nods and waits for David to disappear down the hallway, lighting his cigar as he goes. As soon as his father is out of sight, Matt sags against the nearest antique monstrosity and lets out a sigh. Things have never been easy between him and his father but ever since he moved out, their interactions have been nothing but awkward. It's part of the reason why he avoids visiting or even calling. He hates feeling so uncomfortable around his own father.

From his spot standing in the foyer, he can hear Alex pottering around in the kitchen – probably systematically smashing that pot of sweetpeas. Wincing again in utter mortification, Matt picks up his bag and starts toward the staircase, wondering if it's possible to avoid someone for three weeks when they live in the same house.

His room is just as he had left it last time he'd been here – a shrine to his teenage years with posters of Oasis, The Smiths, Radiohead and Gang of Four plastered all over his walls. Vinyl records are still stacked precariously on his nightstand, like he'd only gone out for a day and planned to come back and clean up.

Dropping his bag in the middle of the floor, Matt wanders over to the stack and peers down at the cover of The Strokes first album, wiping away the film of dust. Picking it up, he puts it on the record player and drops the needle, feeling sixteen again as he stands in his room and lets the sound take him back. Instead of feeling nostalgic, he just feels very glad he left.

Before he can get too moody about this, his bedroom door opens and Laura comes in without invitation, shutting the door behind her. "Thank God," she sighs, leaning heavily against the door. "I thought you'd changed your mind."

Sighing, Matt falls backwards onto his bed and stays there, staring up at the vintage B-movie poster on his ceiling. "If I had, you'd have just found me and forced me here anyway."

"You're right," she says, crossing the room and curling up next to him, joining him in staring at the ceiling. "This way is much easier."

He says nothing, letting her hug his arm and just reveling in the quiet moment with his sister. He talks to her frequently but he hardly ever sees her. It almost feels like it used to, when they'd camp out in one another's rooms and hide from their newest stepmother and a father who didn't ever really understand how to be one.

Poking him obnoxiously in the side, Laura asks, "So did you meet our new stepmummy?"

Oh did he ever.

"Yep," he says, hoping his face isn't giving anything away.

She huffs. "Well. What did you think? Is she a keeper?"

God yes.

"He doesn't keep anyone. You know that." He bites his lip, wondering why it seems so much more awful than it usually does. He knows his father's routine by now – it isn't anything new. "She'll be gone before the year is out."

Laura scoots a little closer, laying her head on his bicep. "I guess so. She's not as young as the other ones, though. And she's sweet. Almost feels like having a real mother, you know?"

He can't say he does, so he swallows heavily and doesn't reply.

Laura had suffered much more than he did by not having a real mother figure around when they were children and she continues to try to find whatever it is she needs in the women his father marries. Matt keeps telling her not to get attached but this time, he doesn't know if his warnings will help her.

"I like her," she says with a soft sigh.

Heart aching for her and the woman downstairs who will be gone from their lives in no time at all, Matt turns to look at his sister, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

Laura might get attached but he'll be there for her when it all goes to hell. He can't help but wonder who's going to be there for Alex.

Mr. Angel, so they say, the devil he turned out to be

Chapter Notes

Hey guys! Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! I haven't had time to reply to them with all the traveling I've been doing but I'm so glad you all like this weird little fic of mine:) Chapter title from the Racoon song Mrs. Angel.

He manages to avoid his new stepmother for the remainder of the night, waiting until quiet descends over the house before sneaking from his room with Laura and making a late-night dinner consisting entirely of breakfast food for the both of them. It feels like they were teenagers again and he savors the time spent with his sister.

However, when he wanders downstairs with bedhead, holey jeans and his t-shirt inside out around noon the next day, he peers blearily into the kitchen and finds Alex sitting at the counter, looking as exhausted as he feels, slumped over her coffee with her head in her hands.

After hovering awkwardly for a moment, he clears his throat. Alex starts, jerking her head up to look at him with a wince. "Oh. Hello."

"Hello," he offers in return, wondering why he feels so ill at ease in his own home. Well, it's been his home longer than hers, anyway. "Late night?"

Unbidden, reasons why she might have had a late night flash before his eyes and he closes them briefly in horror, resisting the urge to groan in disgust even while the part of him imagining her naked is intrigued. God, he's going to need therapy.

"Not exactly," she says dully, staring into her coffee and offering no further explanation.

Not wanting to pry, he shuffles to the coffee pot and pours himself a mug. He sips at it in silence, wondering how he's going to get through the day in the same house with her while his father and Laura work until evening. He feels uncomfortable already.

Maybe if he clears the air between them, it'll be easier. He hardly wants to spend the next three weeks hiding away in his bedroom until his father and sister come home to save him from the awkwardness.

Taking a quick gulp of his coffee for courage, he runs a hand through his mussed hair and says, "Look, about the, uh, supermarket…I didn't -"

"You didn't know it was me," she finishes for him without turning around. "Otherwise you never would have said such a thing."

"Well," he flounders, staring at her back. "Yes."

Turning, she faces him and he suddenly realizes she doesn't seem to be wearing much more than a short silk robe, her hair piled high on her head and her bare legs right there, begging for him to look. He grits his teeth and refuses to let his eyes stray where they want. "But you did say them," she says. "And I'm sure your father wouldn't appreciate you exaggerating his marital history to complete strangers."

He puts aside his mug and crosses his arms over his chest, regarding her through his hair. "And I'm sure he also wouldn't appreciate you flirting with strange blokes in the supermarket."

Her gaze narrows. "I wanted my flowers. I wasn't above a little flirting to get them. Besides, there's nothing wrong with flirting with a good-looking man if you don't intend it to go any further. I'm sure your father does the same."

"Helluva lot more than that," he mutters, and then straightens. "Hang on, did you say good-looking?"

She blushes, glancing away even as she crosses her legs and draws further attention to the tan, shapely calves on display. He finds himself staring openly and hurriedly glances away, rebelliously ignoring the sudden flush to his neck and the tightness in his groin. He is not getting aroused over a bloody pair of nice legs like a damned teenager.

"Wait," he holds up a hand, playing over their conversation in his head. "Hang on. Did you say I was exaggerating my father's marital history? How was I in any way exaggerating?"

Alex looks up, meeting his eyes again. "Well I hardly think one previous marriage that ended upon the death of his spouse is a track record worth scoffing over."

He gapes at her. "Please tell me you're taking the piss."

"I'm really not," she says, sliding from her bar stool to pad barefoot over to the coffee pot, refilling her mug. "And feel free to apologize at your convenience."

"Like hell I will," he says, laughing derisively as Alex stiffens and turns to look at him. "Didn't he tell you, Alex? My father is a serial-marrier. He marries women usually quite a lot younger than you and stays married just long enough for that lovely newly -wedded bliss to wear off. Sometimes that lasts a year or two, maybe even three. But no more than that." He smiles cynically, remembering the long line of stepmothers that came before her and not even really seeing Alex. "There was even one memorable occasion when the woman didn't even last six months. So if my father told you he was only ever married to my mother, then he was lying to your face. Those sweetpeas are perfectly suited for you because you are not the first and you certainly won't be the last. And going by your age, you'll probably be his newest ex a hell of a lot sooner than you think."

Breathing heavily, he stops talking and finally really looks at the woman standing in front of him, frozen in place with her coffee mug cradled to her chest and tears welling in her eyes. His heart sinks at the sight, the relief he'd felt at finally speaking his mind vanishing in the face of her heartbreak. He'd been so ready to get everything out in the open and finally tell one of these women what his father is capable of that he hadn't stopped to think about what he was doing. He'd hurt her. She looks like he'd just torn the bottom out of her whole world. He has never felt like more of a prick.

"You're lying," she says quietly. "He would have told me. He -"

Matt shakes his head, anger at himself and his father building up inside him until his hands shake with the effort of restraining his rage. Not only does his father fuck up the lives of all the women he marries, but apparently now Matt is helping him do it. "The only man lying is the one you're shagging." Setting his mug down on the counter with a clatter, he says, "May you both have a long and happy six month marriage."

Leaving her with eyes full of tears and a devastated look on her face, Matt storms from the kitchen and grabs his boots and car keys in the foyer before going out, slamming the front door behind him.

As soon as Alex hears the front door slam shut, she makes herself move, placing her coffee mug on the counter and forcing her fingers to lessen their white-knuckled grip around it. Her head spins

with the new information Matt had left her with and her mind scrambles to make all the connections even while a small, desperate part of her still screams in denial.

No.

Not this time.

Not again.

Matt is just a son angry with his father and taking it out on her. He probably just doesn't take kindly to a woman he doesn't know coming in and marrying his father, living where his mother used to live. That's all.

David wouldn't lie to her about this – how could he look her in the eye and lie? Except…it certainly wouldn't be the first time a man had no trouble deceiving her. Yet she continues to believe them without question, desperately willing to trust there is someone who will tell her the truth, who will love her without strings attached or skeletons in his closet.

So far, her faith hasn't been rewarded.

She'd thought David was different. He seemed so genuine, so kind-hearted, and her heart had gone out to him, raising his children alone when his wife passed away and living without real female companionship all these years, aside from the occasional date…

Alex shakes her head frantically, shoving away from the kitchen counter and walking hurriedly toward the direction of David's study. He keeps it locked at all times, spending hours in there whenever he's home. She's never seen the inside of it but she knows where it is.

He'd disappeared inside just after Matt arrived yesterday, leaving Alex alone for hours to do God knows what while she panicked in their bedroom about hitting on his son and loathing herself because even when she found out, it didn't stop the hunger she felt when she looked at him. Even this afternoon, with him half-asleep and disheveled, telling her horrible things about her husband without a hint of remorse, the desire still lingered faintly.

Reaching David's study, Alex kneels and stares at the doorknob, an ornate, carved handle that looks impervious to the bobby pin she holds in her hand. No matter – she's used to getting around locks with two sisters determined to keep her from their diaries and two ex-husbands who liked to

think they could hide things from her.

As she works, crouched there outside her husband's study, Alex can't help but wonder what is so important that he feels the need to keep her out – he has to be hiding something because otherwise why would he lock it? What does this room contain that keeps him so preoccupied? She'd waited for him last night but after two hours, she'd grown tired of sitting around and had slipped downstairs and out the back door, trekking across the large backyard to her little art studio – a set of rooms above the garage he'd given her when they married – and taken out her frustrations of the day on a canvas.

David hadn't come to find her until nearly midnight and she'd been paint-splattered and irritated by that time. He'd tried to get her to come to bed with him but she'd refused, claiming she wanted to finish her painting – why should she be at his beck and call when he ignores her for hours? Her response hadn't pleased him. They had a row and David had stormed out with angry parting words, leaving her to an empty studio. She hadn't really felt like painting after that.

She'd started for the house again, determined to sleep in one of the guest bedrooms for the night but when she'd approached the back door, she could see Matt and Laura in the kitchen, cooking and laughing, looking so carefree she couldn't bring herself to intrude and ruin it. So she'd sat outside until they'd gone to bed, lounging on the back steps and smoking one of the cigars she'd pilfered from David's secret stash. She wonders if he notices when several turn up missing from their box.

Now, Alex smiles victoriously as the door to her husband's study swings open and she gets to her feet, peering inside anxiously as she tucks the bobby pin back into her hair. It looks surprisingly normal. She isn't sure what she'd been expecting but a lavish mahogany desk, plush armchairs and floor to ceiling bookshelves hadn't been it.

Creeping inside like David might jump out from behind his desk and accuse her of snooping, Alex glances around as she walks, taking everything in. There's a bottle of brandy and a cup on the desk, so she picks it up and pours herself a drink, taking a deep breath as she prepares herself. This room might look relatively innocent on the surface but looks can be deceiving. She starts with the desk drawers, sinking into the leather seat behind the table and beginning a quick rummage.

It doesn't take her long to find what she's looking for. There's an unmarked folder that contains official looking documents and when Alex pulls it from the drawer and begins to sift through them, she discovers marriage licenses and divorce papers, stacks upon stacks with the names of so many different women she can't even keep them all straight in her head.

There are also pictures – very few but all of them are pictures of David with a different woman. And they're all young – curvy and blonde, slender and ginger. They all look to be around Laura's

age, some a little younger, some a little older.

One picture in particular catches Alex's eye. A much younger looking David has his arms around a dark -haired woman who looks to be about his age, both of them grinning at the camera like fools. Alex has never seen him look so happy. She puts the picture aside gently and grips her glass of brandy in a tight fist, feeling tears burn her eyes.

He'd lied to her.

She honestly doesn't know why she still finds it so shocking.

Taking a large gulp of brandy and coughing, Alex sets down her glass and turns to begin putting everything away when a spot of color catches her attention. On the telephone on the desk, a bright pink post-it note sticks to the receiver. Alex snatches it up, scanning it quickly.

It's a telephone number written in a feminine hand, signed XX. Shutting her eyes against the tears, Alex resists the urge to crumple the note in her hand. Instead, she picks up the phone and dials the number, making sure to press *67. She isn't surprised when a young woman answers the phone and the minute she does, Alex hangs up.

They've been married three months and he's already bored.

Numb, Alex places the sticky note back where she found it and begins carefully putting away the files and photographs she'd unearthed. She keeps the one of David and the dark-haired woman. For some reason, she feels like it doesn't belong buried in that drawer with the myriad of other women.

She tucks it into her robe pocket and downs the rest of the brandy just as the doorbell rings. Wiping quickly under her eyes and scanning the room to make sure nothing is out of place, Alex leaves David's study and shuts the door behind her.

Matt stays away for an hour, driving through town and down country lanes until he feels some of the rage ebb away. For the first fifteen minutes, he cranks up his stereo and drives fast, hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles are white. But after a while, he unclenches his jaw, loosens his grip and turns the music down, the anger with himself and his father dissipating and

leaving nothing but sorrow for his actions in its wake.

He has no excuse for talking to Alex like that – it certainly isn't her fault his father is never happy and Matt is following right in his footsteps. By the time he pulls into the driveway once more, he just wants to find Alex and apologize on behalf of himself and his pillock of a father.

When he steps inside, the house appears to be empty but Alex's car is still in the driveway so he knows she hasn't gone far. He checks the kitchen first and through the back door, he can see Alex sitting on the porch steps, still in her robe with her hair up. Breathing out steadily, Matt says a little prayer that he can keep his eyes off her legs long enough to give his apology and opens the door.

Alex doesn't turn to look and as Matt approaches the steps, he sees the open bottle of wine next to a cigarette butt and what looks like a photograph face down on her lap. Alex seems to be dismantling a flower arrangement, pulling roses from a pretty vase and plucking off the heads only to let them drop to her feet in the yard.

Clearing his throat, Matt asks hopefully, "Mind if I join you?"

"Why not?" She asks without looking at him. "You lived here long before I did and apparently will long after I'm gone."

He winces, settling onto the step next to her and looking out into the well-manicured backyard. It's never looked quite so cared for before – colorful flowers in bloom everywhere he looks and not a weed in sight – and he knows she must be the one looking after it. "I'm sorry, Alex," he sighs, glancing at her. "I was really horrible this afternoon and I shouldn't have taken my frustration with my father out on you. I had no right to speak to you that way."

Alex stares at him, obviously stunned at his admission, and Matt uses her shock as an opportunity to study her. She hasn't a stitch of makeup on, she hasn't gotten dressed and her eyes are a bit red from crying but he still can't think of anyone more beautiful than she looks right then.

The problem with being attracted to his stepmother before he found out that she was his stepmother is that the attraction isn't going to go away now just because he has found out. It was already there and it isn't leaving, wedding ring from his father on her finger be damned.

"It's all right," she finally says, looking away from him, and Matt blinks, forcing himself to stop staring. "You were right anyway."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, she admits, "I broke into his study after you left and found marriage certificates, divorce records, pictures. That sort of thing." She sniffles, reaching for the wine bottle. "He lied to me."

Matt watches her take a long swig from the bottle and suddenly hates his father just a little more. "I'm sorry, Alex."

"Don't be," she says, offering him the bottle. "Not your fault, is it, darling?"

Flushing a little at the pet name, he takes the bottle from her and puts his lips over the mouth, right where hers had been. After taking a sip, he hands her the bottle again and nods to the photograph in her lap. "That one of the pictures?"

She nods, picking it up and turning it over. "Yes. I put all the others back but for some reason, I didn't think this one belonged there."

Leaning close and ignoring the way that familiar scent of paint and flowers invades his senses, Matt glances down at the picture and feels his breath catch. Reaching out, he takes the picture from Alex's hands, staring.

"What is it?"

He smiles softly. "That's my mother."

Gasping quietly, Alex scoots a little closer to him and peers down at the photograph with him. "She's beautiful, honey." She puts a gentle hand on his arm. "You look just like her."

Running a reverent fingertip over the smiling face of the dark-haired woman he barely remembers, Matt nods. "That's what dad always used to say."

Sliding her hand down his arm, Alex curls her hand over his and he glances at her in surprise. "Keep it."

"What?" He tightens his grip on the picture even as he protests. "No, you need to put it back. If he notices it's missing -"

"Then he'll know I snooped," she shrugs carelessly, her robe slipping down her shoulder slightly with the movement and Matt does his best not to gape outright at the tantalizing bare skin on display. "It shouldn't be locked away in a drawer somewhere. You should have it."

"Thank you," he says, eyes sliding back to the photograph as Alex pulls her hand away. He feels the loss of her touch keenly but he ignores it, tucking the picture away in his pocket. It's the only picture of his parents together that he's ever seen outside of their wedding pictures and he can't explain the relief he feels to know they were happy together. Running a hand through his hair, he glances at the mess of decapitated flowers lying around them and asks, "So what's all this?"

"An apology from you father for our row last night," she says, plucking another flower from the vase and picking it apart.

Inside, he feels a sense of relief that her late night hadn't been the pleasurable sort even while he feels terrible for feeling that way. Pushing the conflicting emotions to the side, he smiles at the destruction Alex is causing to an obviously expensive flower arrangement. "Apology not accepted, I assume."

"Your assumption would be correct, dear," she says, and he feels another little shiver at the endearment. He wonders if she talks to everyone that way or just him in particular. "There's a lot more he needs to be sorry for than just a little argument and something tells me he isn't really sorry at all."

He sighs, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as rose petals flutter to the ground. "Maybe it'll be different this time. You might be the one to make him finally settle down."

Alex smiles sardonically, shaking her head. "I've been through this sort of thing twice before. Men like that don't change. David seemed different, though. It's why I married him." Her smile turns even more scornful. "I thought he was safe."

Jaw clenched, Matt watches as Alex resolutely ignores the tears in her eyes and yanks the head off another flower. It's bad enough having to deal with his father but the fact that this doesn't seem to be the first time a man has treated her like this just makes it even worse. If he'd just met her before his father, if that wedding ring hadn't been on her finger when she'd first smiled at him, things could be so different.

He could treat her so much better than his father ever will. But that hardly matters now, does it?

Wanting nothing more than to gather the woman next to him into his arms and save her from being hurt anymore than she has been, Matt leans over and steals a flower from the vase, taking it apart petal by petal with a viciousness that makes Alex glance at him and smile.

He pricks his finger on a thorn several times but the giggle he receives from Alex every time he does is entirely worth it.

But for now I'll look so longingly, waiting

Chapter Notes

Thank you guys so much for your comments! -squishes you all- I love everyone on this TARDIS. And I promise as soon as I get time, I will start replying to reviews again. Just know that they make me smile like an idiot and make the people around me question what I'm so happy about:D Chapter title from Dashboard Confessional's For You To Notice.

When Laura returns from work that evening, she helps Matt make dinner and Alex hovers nearby, watching them interact fondly and feeling a little useless. Cooking has never been her forte – she sews, she draws and paints, she can keep a plant alive in the frost of December but ask her to cook or bake, and she's at a loss.

Laura tries to get her to make the pasta sauce going by the recipe written down by their third stepmother but when Alex accidentally puts sugar into the mix instead of salt, Laura had laughed and shooed her away, foisting her off onto Matt. He'd handed her a knife and instructed her to help him cut up vegetables which she'd done easily enough – though Matt had made her a little nervous, wielding a sharp object with flair and totally unaware of when he made a wide, sweeping hand gesture with it still in his grasp.

When he'd nearly sliced off a bit of her hair by accident, he'd sheepishly sent her away with an apology, claiming he worked better without distractions. Alex had decided to take it as a compliment and now she sits watching them from the bar, swinging her legs over the side. They work well together and she knows they must have had to depend on each other a lot, with an ever-rotating door of women coming in and out of their house throughout their childhood and teenage years.

Matt seems to struggle with his relationship with his father a bit more than Laura but she can't really tell after such a short amount of time. She has spent a little too much time admiring the man's cheekbones and that happy grin to really pay attention. Laura, however, seems to be a remarkably self-possessed, wonderful young woman and Alex can't help but wonder how she'd managed it in the house she had grown up in. It must have had something to do with her little brother.

Across the room, they stand side by side in aprons – Laura had made Matt wear the pink one – and bicker over who has to make dessert. Eventually, Laura whacks Matt with a spoonful of sauce in irritation and Matt wins the argument by default. Apparently they have a rule about resorting to food to win a fight.

Alex watches it all in amusement, trying to contain a giggle as Matt grumbles to himself and tries to scrub pasta sauce from his pink apron. "That'll never come out you know," he says. "You'll be reminded of your cowardly actions every time you see it."

Laura rolls her eyes. "I'll survive." Turning, she motions Alex forward. "Come stir this for me while I make the pie. Please?" When Alex hesitates, she sighs, smiling. "Come on, silly woman. No one can bugger up stirring."

Hopping from the counter, Alex crosses the room and takes the spoon from her, peering into the pan and sniffing curiously. "You obviously haven't been around me long enough."

"Nonsense," Laura says, moving to gather ingredients. "In any case, you can't be worse than The Slag."

Alex frowns in confusion even while Matt swivels to glare at his sister, though the intimidation might have worked better if he weren't wearing a pink apron stained with pasta sauce. "The what?"

"Slag," Laura says, smiling mockingly at her brother. "Matt's girlfriend."

"Oh." Alex turns back to the saucepan, avoiding Matt's eyes and suddenly feeling very silly. Of course he has a girlfriend – a blind woman could see how beautiful he is, and on top of that he seems like a genuine, lovely person. She doesn't think a man has ever delivered a more heartfelt apology to her in her life and he can even cook for God's sake. Who wouldn't want him? And even if he didn't have a girlfriend, he's her stepson and she shouldn't even be thinking of him that way. She has a husband – a pretty rubbish one, it turns out, but it's still a legal and binding marriage contract.

"We're on break, actually," Matt mutters, standing beside Alex to drop a few diced onions into the sauce. Her breath catches at his proximity and his voice in her ear, but it sounds like he's reassuring her and for some reason, that makes her glance up at him with a shy smile.

He grins back and she looks away quickly, face flushed. "And Laura's right in any case. No one could be more horrible than Daisy. She once caught a piece of toast on fire."

From the other side of the room, Laura snorts. "And the toaster wasn't even plugged in."

Alex hides a giggle in a well-timed cough; stirring the sauce faithfully and feeling her fondness for Laura grow by the second. "So what sort of pie are you making?" She asks, and sees Matt shoot her a grateful look out of the corner of her eye for changing the subject.

"Chocolate of course," Laura says. "It's Matty's specialty but since he's being a child, I'm going to make it."

Alex looks at him in surprise. "You have a specialty?"

He winks at her. "I have a lot of specialties, Kingston."

God, he should not be able to make her blush like this. She stirs the sauce a little more vigorously, face burning as she bites back a grin and mumbles, "I'm sure you do." Flirting had been fine in the supermarket when they'd been strangers but now he's her stepson and they're right in front of his sister. Flirting is no longer okay, but she doesn't want to stop.

Matt's arm brushes hers as he leans forward again, sprinkling a little salt into the sauce and Alex doesn't breathe until he steps back, hand brushing her elbow as he does. She swallows and suddenly the kitchen is ten degrees hotter than it had been before.

"Well look at you all. Like a proper family in here, isn't it?"

The sound of David's voice from the doorway makes her stiffen and Matt instantly draws away from her, jaw tight. She hasn't spoken to her husband since their row last night and after what she discovered today, she has no desire to speak to him in the near future either.

Unaware of her feelings, David comes up behind her and wraps an arm around her waist, kissing her neck. She forces herself not to push him away, focusing instead on stirring the sauce in front of her.

"Did you get my flowers?"

She nods.

"And?"

Apology not accepted.

"They were lovely," she says woodenly instead, mentally wishing he would just get away from her. "Thank you."

David kisses her neck again before peering over her shoulder. "Are you cooking? I thought you couldn't cook."

"I'm stirring," she says, feeling the eyes of his children on them. "No one can bugger up stirring." Unable to endure his hands on her any longer, Alex pushes away from him. "You can finish here. I'm not very hungry."

Without another word and giving Laura a brief apologetic look, she strides from the kitchen and retreats upstairs.

Matt isn't shocked when his father doesn't go after Alex – shrugging after his wife's retreating form and stirring the sauce instead. The cheery, playful atmosphere present in the kitchen just moments ago is lost and he wishes his father could have just stayed away a little while longer and given them time to finish cooking without him. He hasn't seen Alex look so happy all day and now she's upset and obviously no longer in the mood to eat the dinner she helped make – well, perhaps that's a bit generous. She'd stirred though, and that's something.

When they sit down at the dining room table – the same god-awful family heirloom that Matt used to eat lonely dinners at as a child – the three of them eat their meals in tense silence, Alex's absence creating a palpable tension between them. Laura sits with her shoulders slumped, sipping at her wine and occasionally glaring over the rim of her glass at their father.

David remains oblivious, reading the paper and taking the occasional bite of pasta without conversing with them much. Things certainly haven't changed.

Matt pushes his food around his plate listlessly; chin resting on his open palm and his appetite gone. He just keeps picturing Alex's face when he told her about David's previous marriages, the tears in her eyes on the back steps that afternoon and how dull her eyes had been when David

kissed her neck in the kitchen. It makes him feel ill. The small voice in his head telling him he could treat Alex so much better is back again in full force, whispering in his ear that he should go to her and check that she's alright. Her husband certainly isn't going to.

Excusing himself abruptly with a brief glower in David's direction, Matt pushes back his chair and deserts the table, squeezing Laura's shoulder gently as he passes her chair. She shoots him a grateful look, as if she knows exactly where he's going.

He climbs the stairs quickly, striding down the hallway toward the bedroom Alex shares with his father. Peering inside, he finds it empty and he's just about to start checking the guest bedrooms when he spots the en suite bathroom light on and the door wide open. He meanders through the bedroom, glancing at the occasional piece of Alex's clothing strewn about the room and the gardening magazines stacked on the nightstand that must be her side of the bed.

He makes it to the door and steps inside, calling out, "Alex?"

Just as the words leave his mouth, his eyes land on her stepping out of the shower sans towel and he stares openly for a moment before Alex shrieks and jumps backward, scrambling for a towel while Matt claps a hand over his eyes and stutters out, "Oh my god, I'm so sorry," while stumbling from the room. In the safety of the bedroom, he uncovers his eyes and paces the room, mortified and limbs flailing. "I just saw the light on and the door was open so I thought – oh god. I was just checking on you, making sure you were all right. I didn't mean to – oh I'm really sorry. I didn't see anything, I swear."

An outright lie – he'd seen everything there was to see, tanned skin wet and glistening, flushed pink from the hot water. Her curly hair made even darker with water and dripping down her shoulders in loose ringlets. Her waist is as tiny as he'd imagined and her breasts look like they'd fit perfectly in his palms. God help him, she is stunning.

Scrubbing a hand over his burning face even while his trousers grow so tight he bites a knuckle to contain a groan, he calls out, "Alex? Are you okay?"

She appears in the doorway, wrapped in a towel, hair still dripping. "Well I suppose that'll teach me to leave the door open," she says, and he glances at her briefly to see her face just as red as his.

"I'm really sorry," he says again, mostly to the carpet. "I just wanted to see if you were okay or if you were hungry. I could bring you up a plate if you want."

"That's sweet of you but I'm okay," she says. "And I'm not hungry at all. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Right," he says, wondering if it's possible to die of mortification.

"You can look at me, you know," Alex says with a quiet laugh. "Unless you've been unimaginably traumatized, in which case I should be the one apologizing."

He glances up quickly, eyes wide. "No, not traumatized at all. You were – are beautiful. I didn't mean it like that. I -" He stops, huffing. "I'll just go, shall I?"

Alex smiles, gesturing to herself. "Well it would certainly allow me to get dressed."

He pictures her dropping the towel when he leaves the room and bites down hard on his lip, tugging a little at his shirt and hoping she can't see how uncomfortable his trousers have become. "Oh. Right. Okay. I'll just…leave you to it, then."

Backing out of the room and stumbling over a pair of high heels in the middle of the floor, he barely catches himself before hitting the floor and mumbles another apology before fleeing the room, Alex giggling as he retreats.

He walks to his bedroom in a daze, Alex's naked form the only thing on his mind. She hadn't seen him right away and that brief glimpse he'd gotten of her body is seared into his mind like a brand. He doubts he'll ever forget how she looks when she's stripped of her clothes and vulnerable, skin pink and freshly scrubbed.

He shuts his bedroom door behind him and leans against it with a pained groan. Matt could stare at Daisy all day without a hint of the desire he feels now - he's rock hard from a fleeting glance of his stepmother getting out of the shower and the only thing he can think about is what he'd do to her if it weren't for that wedding ring on her finger.

Before he can even think about what he's doing and what a bad idea this is, Matt is lying on his bed, hurriedly unzipping his trousers and shoving his hand down his pants, pulling his throbbing cock out with a whimper of relief.

Closing his eyes, he pictures all that golden skin glistening with water and imagines his tongue licking all the moisture from her body, lapping up the water between her breasts and dragging his

tongue downward – down her stomach, over her thighs, delving inside her cunt and tasting her there too.

He bites down on his bottom lip and groans, pumping his length desperately. Wanking off to the image of his stepmother getting out of the shower – he has certainly reached a new low point in life. But he's past the point of caring, and when his mind conjures an image of all that naked skin pressed against him and Alex's legs wrapped around his waist, her voice moaning in his ear, he lets himself be pulled under, losing himself in the fantasy as his hips jerk into his own hand in a frantic rhythm.

It doesn't take long in the state he's in and the moment he tightens his grip around his cock and imagines his hand is Alex's tight heat wrapped around him, he comes, spilling over his own fist with her name on his lips.

Panting and more than a little ashamed of himself, Matt stares up at his ceiling and wonders what the hell is happening to him.

The next morning, Matt gets up and dresses as silently as possible, hoping to avoid Alex for the time being. After last night, he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to look her in the eye again. He's just about to grab his car keys and head out for the day when he hears a muffled curse from down the hallway followed by a loud thud.

Silently praying that it isn't Alex, Matt hurries to open his bedroom door and looks out into the hall to see what all the fuss is about. He spots Laura struggling with her suitcase in the doorway of her room, swearing under her breath and shoving her hair out of her eyes.

"Lor, what the bloody hell are you doing?" He asks, coming up behind her and lifting the suitcase for her.

She looks up at him, sheen of tears in her eyes. "I have to leave."

"What? Why?" He drops the suitcase at their feet and grabs her wrist. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She nods, smiling tearfully and he loosens his grasp but doesn't let go. "I just – I can't be here anymore. I thought I could do this but I can't."

"Do what?"

"Watch the train wreck in progress," she says with a choked laugh. "I mean, we've done it before. We've watched over and over again – they stay for a while and then he gets bored or he finds someone else and they're gone. It's always been like that but she's -" Laura stops, swallowing. "I'm getting attached, Matty. I know you told me not to but I can't help it. She's amazing and he's going to fuck it up."

Matt shushes her, pulling his sister into his arms and cradling her as she sniffles into his shoulder. Rubbing a hand over her back soothingly, he murmurs, "It's okay. I know."

Her shoulders hitch under his hand, her voice watery as she speaks, "I'm sorry, Matt. I know I dragged you out here but I can't sit here and watch dad hurt her."

He doesn't want to watch it either but it's like a car crash now – he can't look away no matter how badly he wants to. So instead, he holds Laura as she tries to gather herself and asks, "Where's Alex? Did you say goodbye already?"

Laura shakes her head, pulling back to wipe at her eyes. "She's in the pool around back. I can't say goodbye. I'm a mess – she'll think I'm a nutter. Just…tell her it was lovely to meet her, okay?"

He nods silently, trying not to picture Alex wading through the water in a tiny bikini, her hair wet and her skin glistening just as it had been last night when she'd stepped out of the shower. He fails utterly and can't meet his sister's gaze, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "I'll tell her."

Laura pokes at his side playfully, smiling weakly. "Look at it this way. You can leave now, since I'm not here to make you stay."

Oh, but he can't. He wishes he could but he's too involved and he can't just leave her here, especially now. Now that he's seen her smile at him and made her laugh – not when she's such a terrible cook and she's so bloody gorgeous and his stomach turns over every time he thinks of her. He can't leave. Not ever.

"Actually," he says, finally venturing to meet Laura's eyes. "I think I'll try to stick it out."

Laura looks surprised, but then her gaze softens. "You can't save them, Matt. It's inevitable – things are going to fall apart. It's already started."

He nods, staring at his shoes. "I know."

He doesn't want to save their marriage – he just wants to save Alex.

By the time he helps Laura to the car with her suitcase and sees her off, promising to call and come to see her soon, he isn't in the mood to face Alex and tell her of Laura's departure so he goes for a walk. Down the long driveway, across the tiny little lane and into the woods he'd played in as a child and hidden in to smoke and get drunk with his mates as a teenager.

He traipses through the foliage with no particular destination in mind, tripping several times because he keeps looking above him at the towering trees. Eventually after stumbling over a tree root, he breaks his fall on a large rock and decides to just stay there, leaning his back against the tree trunk and gazing up at the canopy of leaves above him, nearly blocking the sky from view. He trains his eyes on the tiny sliver of blue peeking through the green and sighs.

Part of him wishes he could just leave like Laura and wait for this whole thing to blow over – his father would get bored and decide to move on and Alex would leave. He could go home and in a few months, she'd be gone. He'd never have to see her again. But the thought of leaving her on her own to face what he knows is coming makes his chest tighten painfully and he knows he can't do it.

But he can't just stand by and watch it happen either. He wants to take care of her, he wants to hold her and be there for her. He wants to kiss her and touch her and know how her skin would feel under his hands, what her breathy moans would sound like in his ear.

He wants her.

Matt is already on shaky ground with his relationship with his father but that just makes him all the more determined – how much worse could things possibly get between them? It isn't like David is going to stay married to Alex for the rest of his life; it's not in his nature. To him, she's just another woman in a long line, but to Matt…she's the one he's been head over heels for since the moment he touched her hand. And if David doesn't want Alex, Matt certainly does.

He'll be the one to pick up the pieces when everything inevitably goes to hell, he'll be there to make sure she has a soft place to land. He'll be there to make sure she knows how gorgeous she really is, how much she is wanted and adored.

He just needs to convince Alex to let him.

When Alex emerges from the pool she finds the house empty and Laura's car gone. She assumes that she and her brother went out somewhere together and decides to use the time alone to do a bit of free sketching.

She grabs a pad of paper and a bit of charcoal before sprawling across the living room floor and letting her mind wander while her hand moves across the page. It's usually a peaceful exercise but inside this oppressive house with no light and only the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner to keep her company, Alex isn't enjoying the activity as much as she usually does.

When she hears the front door open, she's a little relieved at the distraction and she glances down at her paper to see what drawing has emerged from her pencil while her thoughts were preoccupied. At the sight that greets her, Alex feels her eyes well up.

"Alex? You in here?"

She dashes a hand quickly under her eyes and shoves the notebook aside. "Yes, the living room," she calls, tucking her pencil behind her ear. When Matt wanders into the room alone, she frowns. "Where's your sister?"

He bites his lip, shoving his hands into his pockets and glancing away. "She had to leave."

"Oh," she says, watching him curiously. "Will she be back for dinner? Because I was thinking -"

Matt shakes his head and turns away, running a hand through his hair. "She's not coming back, Alex. She packed her bags and went home."

Oh. Alex feels her heart sink – she likes Laura and she'd been looking forward to getting to know her a bit more. Laura had wanted to help her in the garden this week and Alex has been trying to coax her into teaching her how to make that pasta without burning it. She'd thought they were getting to be friends of a sort.

After a beat of silence, she looks at her lap and asks, "Was it me? I mean, did I do something -"

"No," Matt turns to look at her again, eyes pained. "It wasn't you. She just needed some time to herself. She wanted me to tell you it was lovely to meet you, though."

Alex frowns. "If it wasn't me, then why would she leave without telling me?"

Sighing, Matt crosses the room and sinks down onto the floor next to her, mimicking her by pulling his knees up to his chest. "Alright. She left because she's starting to like you too much and she doesn't want to see you get hurt." He scratches at his chin nervously. "Don't tell her I told you that."

Alex isn't quite sure what to say to that so she says nothing for a while, wondering how she got herself into this situation again. Another marriage doomed to fail. Why is she so rubbish at this relationship business? She's starting to think she was born with some sort of defect that makes it impossible to tell a good man from a bad one.

Matt nudges her and she finally registers just how close they are. She can feel the heat radiating from his body, their arms brushing and their legs practically pressed against each other. Slowly, she slides her eyes from her knees to look at him only to find him staring at the notebook next to her.

"What's that?" He asks with a teasing smile. "Did I interrupt you in the middle of updating your diary?"

Without thinking, she places a protective hand over the cover. "No."

His smile grows. "I wonder what it says. 'Dear diary, met a handsome bloke in the supermarket the other day and he turned out to be my new stepson. My disappointment knows no bounds.'"

She smacks his arm, laughing even while her face flushes. "Oh shove off."

He grabs her hand, chuckling. "I know. Probably says something like 'Dear Diary, my stepson walked in on me getting out of the shower last night and now I'm afraid he's a giant pervert.'"

Giggling, she tugs her hand from his and pushes him away while he grins at her, eyes bright. "It's not a diary, you daft man. It's a sketchbook."

Matt raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "And may I ask what you're sketching, Ms. Kingston?"

"You may not," she says, picking up the book and holding it to her chest.

He stares. "Are you drawing porn?"

Choking, Alex thwacks him with the book, feeling satisfied when he yelps. "Is your mind always in the gutter?"

He grins, still holding his arm where the book struck him. "Around you? Yes." He nudges her again playfully. "Come on. Let me see it. I promise if you're drawing porn I won't judge you."

She shakes her head, smiling a little. "My porn sketchbook is in the studio, I'm afraid. I was just doing a bit of spontaneous sketching – letting my hand move without really thinking about what I was drawing."

Matt tugs at the book curiously. "And what did you end up with?"

Sighing, she hands it over, knowing she'll have no peace until she does. "My daughter."

Eyes flying from the sketchbook to her face and then back again, he asks softly, "You have a daughter?"

She nods, biting her lip to keep it from trembling. "She's ten."

If nothing else, this will certainly keep him from flirting with her anymore – most men his age hardly want to flirt with a woman her age and adding a child to the mix will be like a repellent for even Matt. It's part of the reason she'd been so charmed by David – he'd raised his kids alone too. Or so she thought.

Studying the picture intently, Matt runs his fingers gently over the pencil lines. "She's lovely. Got your hair, it looks like."

Alex nods, joining him in staring at the portrait. "Yes. She used to curse me daily for giving it to her."

Matt glances up quickly. "Used to?"

"She's with her father in America," she says, shrugging like it doesn't matter. Like her heart doesn't ache for her child every day. "After the divorce, I got a job teaching art classes at a university over here and Salome wanted to stay in school with her friends. I didn't want her to hate me so I let her stay."

Matt frowns at the picture. "Do you ever see her?"

"She usually stays with me during the summer," she says, thinking of big brown eyes and that little grin when her daughter stepped off the plane and threw herself into her mother's arms. "My ex-husband talked her into going to summer camp this year, though."

"Why would he do that?" Matt asks, looking contemptuous as he glances up at her.

Alex laughs, tears welling in her eyes. "Because I got married and he wanted to be spiteful and keep Salome away from me and my new husband." She looks away; down at the drawing of her daughter's smiling face. "Turns out he was right to be so horrid – I wouldn't want Salome here. Not now."

She doesn't realize she's crying until Matt tosses the sketchbook aside and pulls her into his arms, shushing her gently. She clings to him, burying her face in his shirt and letting him hold her. He threads his fingers through her hair and presses his lips to her temple, humming softly.

"It's going to be okay, Alex," he says. "I promise."

She can't say she believes him but the words comfort her anyway and Alex manages to gather herself enough to finally notice Matt's hand on the small of her back, thumb rubbing soothingly, while his lips brush repeatedly over her hairline – tiny little kisses that send warmth flooding through her. Without bothering to wipe the tears from her face, she slowly raises her head from his chest and looks at him.

He stares right back, his eyes watching her with so much affection and concern that it nearly steals her breath. Smiling gently, he lifts his hand and brushes his knuckles over her cheek and then into her hair, tucking curls behind her ear with careful fingers.

Shivering a little, Alex reaches up and takes his hand, curling her fingers around his. "Matt, I don't think -"

"Ssh," he says, lips quirking as he places two fingers over her mouth.

She stops talking, eyes wide and heart hammering madly as he leans forward; grin threatening to overtake his face. He cups her cheek in his hand and brushes his thumb over her cheekbone.

Bumping her nose gently with his own, he whispers, "Don't talk, Kingston. You'll ruin the moment."

And he kisses her.

Alex melts the moment his lips touch hers, and she knows she should push him away, that what they're doing isn't right in any sense of the word but his lips are soft and his hand on her cheek is gentle. It feels like the kiss she's been waiting her whole life to have and she doesn't dare cut it short. Gripping his shirt tightly in her fist, she presses herself closer to him and willingly opens her mouth when Matt's tongue presses at her lips. She can taste the salt of her tears in their kiss but it doesn't matter because Matt is smiling and nipping gently, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her to his chest.

She moans softly, licking eagerly at the inside of his mouth and ignoring the part of her that screams how wrong this is. Matt slips his hand beneath her shirt, warm palm trailing up her bare back and setting her on fire.

"Alex," he gasps against her lips, fingers digging into her skin.

"Ssh," she says, kissing him quickly as his hands find the hem of her shirt and begin to tug it upward. "You'll ruin the moment."

He laughs quietly, just about to lift her shirt over her head when they hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Alex scrambles away from him, tugging at her shirt and fluffing her hair as Matt climbs to his feet and glances out the window.

His face grim, he says, "David's here."

Reality comes crashing down around Alex like a bucket of cold water and her hands begin to shake as she realizes what she had just done. What she'd been about to do. Her marriage is a lie so she'd turned to her stepson instead? Oh god, what kind of a sick person is she?

Flirting is one thing but this…in a haze of lust and self-pity, she would have let him undress her and take her right there on the living room floor and enjoyed every single second of it. She imagines the regret that would have come afterwards and feels like she might be ill.

Staring wide-eyed at Matt, who watches her sadly, like he knows exactly what she's thinking, she puts a hand to her mouth and shakes her head. "Oh my god. Matt, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have -

"

He strides forward, pulling her hand from her mouth roughly just as the front door opens, his face a mask of fury. "Don't you dare apologize to me. You can be sorry if you want, but I'm not."

"Alex? Where are you?"

She shuts her eyes at the sound of David calling for her and Matt releases her wrist, turning away to run a hand through his hair in frustration. "In here," she calls, cringing at the way her voice wavers.

As David greets her with a kiss on the cheek, Alex watches Matt stride from the room without looking back. Her husband begins to talk about his day and she listens half-heartedly, mind racing as she touches a hand to her lips and wonders when they'll finally stop tingling.

I'm ready to beg and to sing for my sins

Chapter Notes

Thank you all so much for you comments! I'm glad you like it so far:) Chapter title from The Fratelli's 'Baby Doll'.

Kissing Alex hadn't exactly been part of Matt's plan to slowly persuade her that he cares about her more than his father ever will – at least not so early in the game – but he can't say he regrets it. She tastes amazing, and she fits against him perfectly. The sounds she makes when he touches her are a high like no other. If anything, kissing Alex has made him all the more determined to call her his.

Unfortunately, he's starting to think this minor setback in his plans has made Alex more determined to ignore him. At the dining room table during what might be the most awkward dinner Matt has ever had in his life, she refuses to meet his eyes despite the fact that they're sitting directly across from each other. Pushing his food around listlessly on his plate, he shoots furtive glances at Alex every so often, silently demanding that she look at him.

"Where's your sister?"

Jerking in surprise, Matt tears his eyes from watching Alex pick dejectedly at her food to see his father looking at him expectantly. "What?"

David sighs, setting down his fork. "Your sister. Why is she not at the dinner table?"

It's been nearly ten minutes and he's only just noticed Laura isn't eating with them. "She left," he says, turning his eyes back to his plate. "Had to go back to her place but she said she'd phone you later."

She didn't, actually, but Matt's sure she'll get around to it eventually.

Harrumphing, David turns back to his plate and the stack of files sitting in front of him because even while he's home, he can't seem to leave the office behind. How he focuses on work with Alex sitting right next to him, looking the way she does, Matt will never know. "It was so urgent she couldn't wait until I got back to say goodbye?"

Eyes sliding back to Alex to find her still staring blankly at her uneaten food, he says, "Apparently."

"Well," David says, scanning the pages in front of him. "What did you two get up to by yourselves all day?"

At this, Alex turns wide, panicked eyes on her husband, who doesn't even look up. She looks at Matt – finally – and he shakes his head once, silently trying to convey that she's being far too obvious.

"Well I tried to get Alex to take a walk with me but she was busy painting so I went on my own," he says, and the gratitude in Alex's eyes is at once heart-warming and ridiculous. Honestly, as if he'd come right out and say he'd snogged his stepmother. The woman is on edge.

In the middle of contemplating all the ways he could calm her down, Matt's head snaps up when David speaks. "You should let Matt show you around, dear. The grounds around the house are beautiful – you might get some ideas for your work out there."

Sitting back in his seat with a smirk, Matt traces his finger over the rim of his wine glass and meets Alex's eyes. "Yes, you should come next time." Her eyes widen at his double-entendre. "You might find yourself inspired."

Alex glances away, frowning. "I have enough inspiration, thank you."

"Oh, but you can never have enough inspiration," he persists, keeping his voice low and enjoying the way she squirms in her seat. "That's like saying you've had too much sleep or too many orgasms." He swipes a finger over the whipped topping on the dessert plate next to him and licks it away slowly. "No such thing."

Alex blushes scarlet and narrows her eyes at him while David sends him a brief look of reproof for saying 'orgasm' at the dinner table. Matt barely pays him any mind; too busy marveling over the way Alex somehow manages to look even more gorgeous when she's angry. It adds a certain sparkle to her green eyes, making them glitter under the light of the chandelier above them. He might be imagining things but he thinks even her hair looks cross with him. It's magnificent.

She is magnificent.

Not even bothering to pretend like he isn't staring now, Matt watches her pick up her wine glass, her eyes on his as she sips from it, like she's silently telling him that he isn't going to ruffle her with a little innuendo. He grins and meets her gaze steadily, unwilling to be the first to look away. Just as she is trying to tell him something, he needs to let her know that he isn't going to go away just because she's afraid.

Alex is apparently as stubborn as he is – that or she is coming around to his silent seduction a lot easier than he thought – because she sets down her wine and picks up her fork without breaking eye contact. She slides the fork past her lips, leaving a stain of lipstick around the silverware to match the print on her wine glass.

He licks his lips, wondering it would be like to have her press that mouth to his naked skin and leave her mark there as well, covering him in lipstick prints and letting everyone know he's been claimed. He wants to spread her out on the dining room table and do a bit of his own claiming, leaving teeth marks wherever he touches.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat and dropping his napkin to cover his lap when moving around does nothing to alleviate the tightness of his trousers, Matt finally looks away, letting Alex win.

He can sense her triumph from across the table but he's a little too preoccupied to mind. Usually, he can keep these thoughts at bay but after kissing her, it seems to have unleashed something primal and he wants her more than ever. He knows now what she tastes like, how she feels, the way she whimpers when he kisses her hard, and it changes everything.

The silence around the table is verging on painful and Matt misses Laura more than ever – she's always been able to keep a lively conversation going and sometimes David would even look up from his paperwork to join in, or at least listen. Matt glances at Alex and sees watching her husband curiously, like she doesn't know how to talk to him anymore than Matt does.

"David," she begins tentatively, and Matt knows by the tone of her voice that she hasn't the faintest clue how she's going to end that sentence. She just wants to say something. He doesn't interfere, merely delighting in the fact that she doesn't call her own husband by the pet names she bestows on him. She picks up the tongs lying next to the plate of chicken and bites her lip hesitantly. "Would you like more chicken?"

David shakes his head, swirling the wine in his glass. "No, I'm fine."

When Alex starts to put the tongs down, Matt speaks up, asking brightly, "Can I have a breast?"

Startled, Alex drops the tongs and they both watch as the utensil falls into the mashed potatoes. She turns her eyes on him and stares, mouth open.

He smiles serenely. "Two, if you don't mind."

Snapping her mouth shut and pursing her lips, Alex picks up the plate of chicken and reaches across the table to hand it to him. He takes it but not before deliberately brushing his fingers against hers, meeting her eyes as he murmurs his thanks.

She says nothing and the minute he grips the plate, she stands up, excusing herself and hurrying away from the table and into the kitchen. Matt watches her go and smiles, putting the chicken aside and enduring the silent atmosphere with his father for the appropriate length of time before getting up to follow her.

This hadn't exactly been part of his plan, but he would take what he could get.

When Alex reaches the sanctuary of the kitchen, she breathes out a sigh of relief and slumps against the counter, elbows resting on the granite and her mind racing. What is happening to her? She'd kissed her stepson today and she probably would have done a helluva lot more with him if David hadn't come home from the office when he did. And just moments ago, practically fucking Matt with her eyes while her husband sat right next to her, oblivious. What is she doing? This is sick and wrong. It cannot happen. She's always been so sensible, so levelheaded. She won't let some bizarre attraction to David's son ruin that. She's just going to have to be more careful. It can't happen again. She won't let it; no matter what innuendo-laden conversation Matt throws her way.

Just as she's contemplating stepping outside for a much needed smoke, a large, warm hand on the small of her back sends her jumping backwards into a solid, lanky frame. Another hand settles on her hip to steady her even as the body behind her releases a low chuckle into her hair. Alex stiffens, her heart beginning to hammer madly. She'd know that voice anywhere. It's been a constant source of desire and frustration ever since he first set foot in this house.

Letting out a steadying breath and closing her eyes, she asks quietly, "What are you doing?"

Matt doesn't answer her, brushing her hair aside and lowering his mouth to the side of her neck, kissing and sucking gently. "Just making sure you're alright." Mouth open, Alex shivers against him. "You left so abruptly."

She should shove him away. Turn around and slap him before marching back into the dining room to join her husband. And she's going to - any second now. Swallowing, Alex grips the edge of the counter until her knuckles turn white. "I needed some air."

"If anyone needs air, it's me." He bites down hard on her neck. "You've done nothing but torment me since we sat down to dinner."

Her? Tormenting him? He's the one who has been licking whipped cream off his finger and making innuendos and brushing her hand with his. He has some damned nerve to say such a thing and Alex plans on telling him so. She opens her mouth to do just that but all that comes out is a moan as she arches her back against him and she curses her own traitorous body. She thinks fleetingly of David seeing the teeth marks on her neck and of the explaining she would have to do but Matt's hands are tight on her hips as he turns her roughly to face him, and suddenly she doesn't want to think about David anymore – with his previous wives he never bothered to mention and the pink post-it note signed with xx's on his desk.

Pressing her hard into the counter behind her, Matt lowers his head and catches her lips in a harsh, punishing kiss. Just as before, Alex clings to him, opening her mouth under his and letting him in. Tongue battling fiercely with hers, Matt plunders her mouth like he can't get enough, like he wants to open her up and climb inside. She probably shouldn't find that such a turn-on.

He doesn't even pause to let her breathe, relentless in his passion as he slides a hand down her thigh. His fingers dip beneath her skirt and he trails them back up her bare thigh, dragging her skirt up with him while Alex bites down on his lip. Growling softly, Matt hitches her leg up and she instantly wraps it around his slender waist. He grinds his hips into hers and she throws her head back into the cupboards behind her, gasping. Matt smiles, kissing the corner of her mouth. He looks sort of sweet like that, she thinks fleetingly. And then his hand slips inside her knickers and she doesn't think at all anymore.

Long, clever fingers skate over her slick heat and they both moan quietly at how wet she is from their brief encounter. No other man has ever made her feel like this, like he's never met anyone quite so alluring. It's exhilarating and intoxicating. She can't seem to get enough. His very presence in the room is enough to make her knickers damp and it's been like that since the moment she met him, though she has always done her best to ignore the affect he has on her.

But Matt is starting to make it impossible to ignore anything about him.

He swipes his thumb over her clit once very briefly and her hips jerk toward him without her consent. She bites down hard on her bottom lip as Matt's hazel eyes meet hers with obvious intent. Quivering and desperate, she nods quickly and he pushes two slender fingers inside her.

Alex breathes out shakily, and he steps closer to her, his breath hot on her face. She raises her eyes from the collar of his shirt and his gaze catches hers again - intense and purposeful as he watches her. He doesn't look like the sweet, ridiculous man who trips over his own feet, who held her earlier as she cried - his eyes are serious and dark, his jaw tight with concentration as he tries to get her off quickly. He slowly draws his fingers out and slams them back in again. She keens and he hurriedly covers her mouth with his own, muffling her cries in a frenzied kiss. She returns it with wild fervor, drawing his fingers deeper into her with a hand around his wrist as she tightens her leg around his waist. Matt slips his free hand into her hair and fists a handful of curls around his fingers. He pulls just hard enough to sting, and this combined with his bruising kiss and his fingers steadily fucking her, Alex feels her orgasm approaching like a freight train.

She can feel herself soaking Matt's fingers as he slips a third inside her easily, and he circles his thumb over her clit, a feather-light touch that leaves her shaking. Clutching at his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, Alex lifts her hips against him frantically; hungry for release, for more friction, for him and all too aware that David could walk into the kitchen at any time. And it just goes to show what kind of sick person she is that the thought of being caught makes her whimper and tighten ever so slightly around Matt's fingers.

"So beautiful, Alex," he breathes into her ear, and she shudders. "He's sitting out there sipping his bloody wine and all I could think about was bending you over the table and fucking you." Her breath hitches and he nips at her ear. "I might still, just to hear you scream. Bet you're a screamer, aren't you, Alex?"

She whines into his neck, hot all over and right on the edge, teetering precariously on the brink of

release. So bloody close...

With one last press of his thumb into her clit, Matt curls his fingers inside her just so and Alex flies apart, her cunt tightening violently around Matt's thrusting fingers and drenching them anew while she screams silently into his neck, lights dancing in front of her eyes and her heart pounding. He slows his thrusts, pressing a line of feverish kisses across her forehead, suddenly the tender, sweet Matt she is familiar with once again. Panting, she slowly comes back to herself, blinking dazedly at his Adam's apple.

Breathless and unable to believe what she just let happen after she promised herself she wouldn't let it, Alex pulls back to stare up at Matt, bewildered. He smirks down at her, slipping his fingers from her still fluttering heat and letting her leg drop back to the floor. Her body continues to clench around nothing in the aftershocks while Matt, with his eyes on hers, slowly draws his fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, just like he had with the whipped cream at the dinner table. Alex stares open-mouthed, a strangled sound of desire escaping her throat.

"Might want to adjust your skirt, Kingston," he says softly, and winks. "See you back out there."

With that, he turns and walks back out into the dining room, adjusting his jacket to cover his erection as he goes. Alex watches him leave with her mouth still open and her skirt bunched around her hips. Smug bastard. She leans back against the counter, boneless and probably glowing from that mind-shattering orgasm. Damn that man, he has reason to be a smug bastard. Alex closes her eyes, biting her lip and wondering what he looks like beneath those t-shirts and tight trousers. She wonders what his skin tastes like, if he'd pound her into the mattress and satisfy her thoroughly, the way David has never quite managed. Alex whimpers softly at the thought of finding out, and when her head lolls back and hits the cupboards behind her, her eyes fly open in realization.

She is in such deep shit.

She wants him.

And with David off shagging some other woman, there's nothing to stop her from having him.

Well, besides her moral principles.

If she closes her eyes and concentrates, she can still feel Matt's breath on her cheek and his fingers moving inside her. Oh god. She swallows hard and reaches with a shaking hand for the spot where she hides her cigarettes.

Perhaps she needs that fresh air after all.

Alex doesn't come back to the dinner table, and Matt goes to find her again after his father retreats to his office, concerned that he has somehow ruined everything with his rash actions. Wishing the whole time that he had just stuck to his original plan of gradually wooing her rather than bringing her off against the kitchen counter – like she means nothing, like he doesn't want anything more from her than sex – Matt ventures into the kitchen again and finds it empty.

To his relief, he sees her through the French doors leading into the back yard, sitting there on the stone steps and blowing out a ring of smoke into the night air. Leaning against the doors, Matt watches as she stares blankly out into the yard and wonders if he's buggered everything up by being too impetuous. He'll never forgive himself if she backs away now, but oh, she had been so glorious coming apart at the touch of his hands. He can't regret getting to see that.

Heart beating a frantic rhythm against the confines of his ribcage, Matt slowly opens the door and slips out into the warm summer night. Not moving from the door, he stands there uncertainly, wondering if maybe he should have stayed inside.

While he contemplates what to say, Alex takes another drag of her cigarette and breathes out the smoke on a sigh. "I know you're there. The shame radiating off you is tangible."

He frowns at the back of her curly head. "I'm not ashamed, Alex. You're the one hiding out here and chain-smoking."

She holds up her hand and flicks the ash off the end of her fag. "One cigarette does not a chain make, Matthew. I'm thinking."

Swallowing, he asks, "Would you prefer to think alone?"

Alex still hasn't turned to look at him but she nods. "I think I would. Kind of difficult to think properly with you projecting your own thoughts so bloody loudly."

He smiles slightly, hand on the doorknob. "Yeah? What am I thinking about right now?"

"Me," she answers easily, finally turning to glance at him over her shoulder, a soft smile on her face.

He shrugs. "Beginner's luck."

"Maybe," she agrees, returning her attention to the yard.

Turning the doorknob, he takes one step inside before glancing back again. "Just so you know," he says softly, "What we did today might have seemed impulsive to you but I've been thinking

about it since the moment I met you."

The line of her back straightens slightly but Matt doesn't wait for her to turn around, slipping back inside the house and shutting the door behind him. As much as it pains him, he turns from the sight of her sitting alone out there and walks away, giving her the time she needs.

He'll talk to her properly tomorrow. He'll make her understand that he's serious, that he cares about her. Tomorrow, he'll tell her everything. With that thought in mind, he climbs the stairs to his room and falls into bed, sleep claiming him within minutes.

When she hears the door shut behind Matt, Alex sighs and leans back, resting her elbows on the steps behind her and tipping her head back to look up at the sky. The stars are much brighter out here than they'd been in London and while she has come to hate residing permanently in the country with David, she can't deny the beauty that exists out here. She probably could find a lot of inspiration out here, if she started paying attention.

Unfortunately, she can't seem to pay much attention to anything but Matt lately and he seems determined to keep it that way.

If only she'd known flirting with the handsome man in the supermarket would result in the predicament she's in. She wonders if she would have done it anyway, knowing what she does now. She thinks of David and how much he's changed from the man she thought she knew when she married him – his long hours at work, the way he can be in the same room with her for hours without even looking at her or speaking to her, and of the drawer full of marriage certificates and divorce papers. She would certainly feel more alone and miserable without Matt around.

But loneliness isn't the reason she let Matt kiss her or touch her – Alex knows what it feels like to be with someone out of loneliness and this isn't it. She just likes Matt, with his kind eyes and his wide grin; the way he touches her with reverence even when he's pushing her against the kitchen cabinets, the way her whole body just hums with contentedness whenever he's in the room.

She wants Matt just because she does, because he's wonderful and he makes her laugh and why shouldn't she have him?

David isn't going to keep her around forever and Alex quit her university job to live here with him; she left her whole life in London for a man who cares no more for her than he does a stranger

down the street. He already has a tart he's seeing on the side after three months of marriage – who knows how much longer it'll be before he asks her to leave. And leave she must, since she was idiotic enough to sign a pre-nup.

God, she was so stupid.

It turns out her previous failings in the marriage department have taught her nothing at all. But this thing with Matt isn't about marriage or love or anything really but lust. She wants him – desperately. And for some bizarre reason she still doesn't understand, Matt wants her too. And why shouldn't they have what they want if David is going to have what he wants, without regard to his wife or the son who has watched him make all the wrong decisions his whole life?

Squaring her shoulders, Alex stubs out her cigarette on the step next to her. If David can cheat, then so can she.

With his son?

She slouches miserably back against the steps and glares at her stubbed out cigarette.

Okay, so that part is bad.

But does the person she's cheating with really matter in the moral scheme of things? Cheating is cheating.

Isn't it?

And what David doesn't know won't hurt him…

All the secrets and nobody else to tell

Chapter Notes

Thank you all so much for your lovely comments:) Chapter title from the Jack White cover of Love Is Blindness.

Matt slowly drifts toward consciousness far earlier than he would have liked – he'd been dreaming of what might have happened if he'd stayed out there to talk to Alex, imagining spreading her out on the grass under the stars. But there's something not quite right...something...

Blinking sleepily, Matt shifts and realizes he's hard as a rock. Bloody hell, the dream hadn't been that explicit. And then, there's movement out of the corner of his eye just as he feels a soft hand pump his cock. Gasping as his hips twitch, he jerks his gaze toward the movement and sees Alex sitting on the edge of his bed in a nightie, that magnificent hair falling around her shoulders and a wicked smirk tugging at her lips as she strokes him.

He's dreaming. He has to be dreaming.

"Oh god," he chokes, torn between jerking away and lifting his hips for more contact. "What the hell -"

Alex cuts him off with a finger to his lips. "Sshh. No talking, Matthew," she whispers, and he glances quickly at his alarm clock. Six in the morning. His father will be up and preparing to leave for the office in half an hour. He looks at Alex again and nods once, eyes wide. She pulls her finger away while her other hand wraps firmly around his length. "Unless you don't want..." She trails off, looking suddenly unsure of herself.

As if Matt hadn't cornered her in the kitchen earlier and shoved his hand in her knickers while his father sipped wine in the dining room. As if he hasn't wanted her since they met. Alex begins to slide her hand from his pants and Matt whimpers at the loss of contact. "Don't stop," he whispers. "Please."

Alex hesitates only a moment before she smiles again and crawls fully onto the bed, straddling his thighs. Cleavage spilling out of her black negligee and green eyes glittering as she bends to lick his neck, Alex looks like not only every man's wet dream, but Matt's in particular. Groaning, he places his hands on her hips and tries to bring her mouth to his but Alex wriggles from his grasp and continues to plant kisses down his neck, across his collarbones while nipping with her teeth,

and then down his chest, biting hard enough to leave marks. Throbbing and straining against his boxers, Matt makes a noise of frustration and tries to touch her again, only to be rebuffed once more.

Alex sucks and bites at his nipple with particular enthusiasm as her hands trail down his sides. Soothing her vicious teeth marks with her tongue, she continues down his stomach until she finally reaches his groin. Smirking a little while Matt swallows in anticipation, she slips her fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his legs, tossing them away. Suddenly, her face is right in front of his erection. She breathes softly across the head and he whimpers, hands fisting in the sheets.

The ends of her hair brush against him and he lifts his hips, desperate for the delicious heat of her mouth. Alex smiles and with deliberate slowness, she licks the length of him from root to tip in one long stripe. Matt bites back a groan. She kisses the tip; licking up the moisture gathered there and then tongues at his slit. He muffles a shout into his fist and feels her smile widen against him before the warmth of her hot mouth envelopes him completely. Gasping at the sudden shock of it, Matt sits bolt upright and fists his hands in her wild curls. He's so hard he thinks he'll explode but he still feels himself swelling inside Alex's mouth and he wonders how she doesn't choke. He probably shouldn't find being sucked off by his stepmother in his childhood bedroom so hot but he tugs sharply at her hair and pants, resisting the urge to thrust into her mouth or hold her down by the neck until she takes him all the way in.

Swirling her tongue around his length like she's lapping at a bloody lolly, Alex bobs her head up and down, her lips bright red as they stretch around his cock. Matt has a sudden and overwhelming desire to touch her but she doesn't seem to want his reciprocation right now. Instead, Alex takes him all the way into her mouth quite suddenly, not stopping until the head hits the back of her throat. And then she hums.

"Holy fuck," he hisses, and his mind is blank of everything but Alex. Her hair tickling his skin, her hands drawing soothing circles on his thighs, her hot, brilliant mouth around him. "God, Alex...yes."

His father is just down the hall sleeping, completely unaware that his new wife is giving his son a blowjob like she was bloody well born to do it but Matt can't muffle the noises he's making. He can't do anything but gasp and moan as a raging fire begins to build in his abdomen.

Alex moves her hands from his thighs to fondle his testicles, cupping them and rubbing gently with her thumbs while her mouth slides up his length with a soft scrape of her teeth. Matt chokes back a sob, reduced to a desperate, gibbering mess who just wants to come. He wants to pull her away from his groin, shove her beneath him on the bed and fuck her. He wants to come inside her until he can't see straight.

Then, Alex's intense green eyes fly up to meet his and still holding his gaze, she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard on the tip of his cock, as if she's trying to draw out his very essence through his prick. "Yes, Alex. So fucking -" Heedless of his father down the hall, Matt comes with a shout, hands tight in Alex's hair as he spills into her mouth. She swallows everything with her eyes still on his and Matt has never seen anything so sexy in his life. When he's spent, Alex slowly slides him from her mouth with a wet pop and he collapses against the mattress, mind blank and chest heaving.

He watches through hooded eyes as Alex sits up and licks her lips, staring at him warily. He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, letting him pull her into his side. He kisses her softly - too exhausted to be as passionate as he'd like - and he can taste himself on her tongue. He moans quietly and licks at the roof of her mouth. Alex whimpers, pulling away to rest her forehead against his.

"What happened?" He asks, watching her seriously.

Lips twitching, she says, "I believe it's called a blowjob, darling."

He snorts. "I meant what happened to change your mind. Have you finished thinking?"

She shrugs, eyes sparkling. "If David's track record holds true, I'll be gone before the year is out. Shagging you can't possibly make things any worse."

The answer is vaguely troubling but Matt is too tired to pinpoint why. Deciding he'll think about it in the morning, he wraps his arms around her and falls back into dreams once more.

When he wakes again, the sun is high in the sky and his arms are empty. For a horrible moment, he thinks maybe last night had been a dream – an erotic, wonderful dream – and that Alex hadn't really slipped into his bedroom last night. Just as Matt's heart begins to sink with the likely possibility, he turns over in bed and buries his face in his pillow.

It smells like Alex – this flowery, earthen scent with traces of perfume and charcoal. He smiles into his pillow and breathes deeply, stretching. Not a dream at all, then.

Glancing at his alarm clock and wondering if it's too soon to go find Alex and snog her senseless, Matt drags himself out of bed and pulls on his clothes, running his fingers through his hair and brushing his teeth. He decides to give Alex a little time to herself but when he enters the kitchen to grab something for breakfast and finds her in the same sundress she wore the day he met her,

barefoot and bent over with her head in the refrigerator, Matt knows he won't be able to just grab an apple and leave.

Stealing up behind her quietly, he runs a deliberate hand over her bum, giving it a brief squeeze. Alex starts, smacking her head as she jumps away and turns to look at him, glare fixed firmly in place. He grins, raising his eyebrows at her. "Good morning."

"Oh god," she says, dropping her glower as her shoulders slump. "You're one of those obnoxious morning people, aren't you?"

He really isn't but something about coming downstairs and seeing her face first thing after waking puts him in a cheerful mood. He isn't about to admit that to her, though. Grabbing an apple from the bowl on the counter, he says, "And you're one of those people who hates everything until after your second cup of coffee?"

She smiles and turns back to the open fridge. "I suppose you'll find out soon enough, won't you?"

"I plan to," he says, and instead of biting into his apple, he comes up behind her and rests his chin on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Throwing out all the expired food," she says, pulling a package of shredded cheese from a shelf with her nose wrinkled. She tosses it into the trash bin next to her, wriggling out of Matt's grasp with a laugh when he tries to kiss her neck. "Go find something to do. Just because we're having sex doesn't mean you can bother me all day."

"You wound me, Kingston," he says, taking a bite of his apple and speaking around it. "I thought you liked it when I bothered you."

Without turning around, she says, "You were mistaken."

He smiles but the comment niggles at him worryingly. Just because we're having sex…

And then he remembers suddenly the explanation she'd given him early this morning.

Shagging you can't make it any worse.

Matt is starting to think Alex has misinterpreted his intentions and he means to correct her erroneous assumption. He watches her silently for a few moments, turning over the problem in his mind as he leans against the counter and munches on his apple. She bends over quite frequently and the view from his spot is lovely. When he finishes the last bite, he tosses the apple into the trash bin and says, "Come for a walk with me."

"Can't," she says. "I'm painting this afternoon."

He sighs, pushing away from the counter and coming up behind her, snaking an arm around her waist. She leans into him automatically, hand resting on his over her stomach. "Please? Maybe you'll see something you want to paint while we're out." He brushes her hair aside, pressing his lips to the side of her neck and inwardly grinning like a madman because he can do such a thing now. "How can you call yourself an artist if you're going to say no to potential inspiration?"

Tilting her head to the side and giving him better access to her throat, Alex huffs in exasperation. "Are you always so persuasive or I am just particularly susceptible?"

He smiles as he turns her to face him, letting his lips brush briefly over hers and feeling utterly pleased with himself when her eyes flutter shut. Grabbing her hand, he tugs her along through the house, eager to get outside and talk to her, even if the day has turned out to be clouded and gray. She makes him stop in the foyer, grabbing a pair of lavender wellies and stepping into them and he can't help but tease her as they begin the long trek down the driveway.

"Loving your ensemble, Kingston," he says, watching the hem of her sundress swish around the top of her boots. "What do you think they'd call that in London? Country chic?"

She shoves him with a laugh but he refuses to relinquish her hand, merely grinning and holding on tighter. "You're treading on thin ice for someone who wants to get laid, darling."

Matt says nothing but the remark tells him what needs to know – Alex thinks he wants her for sex and nothing else. It's his own fault, he thinks. He never told her otherwise, just assumed she understood. No matter, he'll make her understand now. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, enjoying the way she blushes as they near the end of the driveway. They cross the little lane and break through the trees into the woods, the overcast sky above them hidden by the canopy of tree leaves.

They traipse through the foliage hand-in-hand in comfortable silence while Matt tries to think of

the best way to bring up the subject weighing heavily on his mind. It isn't until they reach a clearing in the woods that they finally come to a stop. The grass here is overgrown and nearly reaches his hip but the wildness of it has been something he's been fond of since childhood. Alex seems to love it just as much as he does, and he watches with amusement as she bends down and removes her boots, holding them in her hand as she wiggles her bare toes in the grass. He wants to kiss her, wants to pick her up and twirl her around in the meadow until neither of them can breathe from laughing. Instead, he watches her look around them with a smile on his face and keeps his hands to himself.

"Used to come here all the time when I was younger," he says, walking out into the middle of the clearing with Alex trailing behind him. "Perfect place to hide with my mates."

"Or your stepmum," she murmurs, sliding a hand up his arm and making him shiver at her touch. She smirks and moves away, head tilted toward the gray sky above them as she moves further into the meadow. "Does your father own these woods? He never mentioned them."

Matt nods, watching her bend down to pick a dandelion. "He doesn't bother much with it but it's our property until the end of that line of trees out there."

Alex looks out into the distance when he points and smiles. "You could build another five houses on this land."

Striding out into the middle of the field, Matt finds a spot that looks particularly cushy and drops down, reclining on his back. "Dad used to say Laura and I could build our own houses over here if we wanted. I don't think he ever understood our burning desire to get as far away from that house and him as possible."

Alex snorts, turning from studying her flower to look at him. "I know the feeling."

It's the perfect opening and Matt seizes it before it's gone. "You could leave, you know."

The smile drops from her face instantly. "And go where? I was stupid enough to sign a prenup and quit my job in London to be with your father."

He swallows hard. "Live with me."

Her eyes widen and the dandelion drops from her fingers. "What?"

Sitting up quickly, Matt crosses his legs in front of him and hurries to explain. "You could leave him, Alex. Come live with me in London."

"And mooch off you instead of your father?"

"No, just let me take care of you until you can find another job. Then you could move out." He rubs at his chin nervously. "Or you could, I don't know, just stay. Pay half the rent and I'll cook dinner every night -"

Alex shakes her head frantically, looking at him like he has lost his mind.

If he has, it's her fault entirely.

"Matt, do you hear yourself?" She asks, incredulous. "We've just decided to start shagging each other and you're talking about moving in together! I'm your stepmother for god's sake! This is not a long term relationship!"

Scrambling to his feet but making no effort to move toward her, he says, "Is that what you think? That I've been following you around and doing everything but standing on my bloody head to catch your attention all because I wanted to shag you and that's it?"

Alex throws her hands up just as thunder rumbles faintly in the distance and a soft breeze ruffles her hair, sending curls tumbling in front of her eyes. "What else could you possibly want from me?"

"Everything!" He shouts across the meadow, and she takes a step away from him but it's too late for anything but honesty.

She shakes her head. "I don't have anything to give you."

He can't help but release a soft laugh of incredulity because he's never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. "Are you serious? You're amazing and gorgeous and funny, and you can't cook worth a damn but I don't care! You make me want to take care of you and make you laugh, kiss you until you can't breathe." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "All I ask is that you

let me."

Alex stares at him silently, mouth slightly agape and her arms hanging at her sides, boots dangling from her fingertips. As they stare at each other, Alex in disbelief and Matt ever hopeful, the gray skies above them open up and a light rain begins to fall. Neither of them pays it any mind.

"You don't mean any of that," she finally says, meeting his eyes. "It's the sex talking."

Mouth twitching, he points out, "Technically, we haven't had sex yet. I haven't even seen you naked – unless walking in on you getting out of the shower counts."

"It does," she says, turning her face away from him, but he detects the note of tears in her voice and rushes forward, crossing the distance between them quickly. He catches her wrist and she drops her boots at their feet, tilting her head to look up at him. The rain is slowly soaking them both but the tears in her eyes are obvious. "Your father -"

"I don't care about him," he growls, curling his hand tighter around her wrist. "He's not going to want you forever. He doesn't know how to be in a relationship that long." He swallows, meeting her gaze steadily. "But I do, Alex. I will always want you."

She shakes her head, blinking away rain droplets and sending a tear rolling down her cheek. "You can't promise that."

"I can," he insists softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

She bites her lip. "You barely know me."

"Doesn't matter," he says. "You've had me ensnared from the moment I laid eyes on you and that isn't going to change." He leans forward just a fraction and touches her lips with his. "I will always want you."

Eyes tightly shut, Alex breathes, "Alright. I was wrong. Shagging you could make things worse."

Matt laughs softly, cupping her rain-damp cheek in his palm. "Or it could make things so much better."

Smiling reluctantly, she lifts her eyes to meet his and Matt is suddenly struck by how stunning she is – he's known it from the moment he met her but now, in this moment, he's nearly speechless with it. Green eyes sparkling, wet curls plastered to her head and water droplets clinging to her skin, she looks utterly enchanting.

Slowly, he slides his other hand from her wrist, interlacing his fingers with hers. Alex stops smiling and licks her lips, tilting her head just a little as she watches him. Matt lowers his head until he's close enough to see the blue flecks in her eyes and their breath mingles together. He brushes his nose against her soft cheek and knows that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't have the strength to back away now. He's all in at this point and there's no going back. His eyelashes flutter against her temple and he feels Alex squeeze his hand and release a hitching sigh.

Smiling, he turns his head and catches her lips with his in a soft kiss that belies the aching desire he feels. She gives a faint little moan and opens her mouth, letting him slip his tongue inside. She lets him have control for only a moment before sucking lightly on his tongue and licking the roof of his mouth, kissing him harder. Matt groans and releases her hand to grip her hip, pulling her into him. Alex pulls away from his mouth with a gasp, hands moving to his hips to hold him against her.

"Matt," she whispers, pressing her forehead to his chest and breathing deeply.

He nuzzles his nose into her wet hair and says tightly, "Want you. Want you so bleeding much."

She whimpers, clutching his t-shirt. "We could go back to the house," she starts hesitantly, and he chuckles.

"We're on private property and surrounded by trees. I don't think anyone's going to see us, Kingston." He almost smiles, hiding the twitching of his mouth in her hair. "And I want brand new memories for this meadow. Much better than the ones I have of getting pissed and passing out."

She laughs. "Well, I would like to get a closer look at this grass. Might paint it later."

"Love the way your mind works," he says, thumb caressing the curve of her waist through her damp sundress and feeling inordinately pleased when Alex shivers against him. He begins to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down the side of her face, down her neck and across her chest. Alex wiggles against him, fingers digging into his hips as she leans into him. He bites at the skin of her

collarbone, hands sliding down her curves and bunching the skirt of her dress in his fists.

Alex pushes him away, cheeks flushed as she walks him backwards until he trips over his own feet and falls flat on his bum in the overgrown grass. She smiles down at him and Matt stares up at her through the rain in his eyes and thinks he's never seen anything quite so lovely. She raises the skirt of her dress slightly and he watches with wide eyes as she slides her knickers down her legs and tosses them aside.

They're actually going to – right here in the woods and – oh yes.

Mind going into overdrive, Matt scrambles to unbutton his jeans as Alex starts toward him, dropping down and straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs. She pushes his hands away and takes over, hands surprisingly steady as she leans forward and kisses him.

It's fierce, searing and bone-meltingly hot. Matt is a goner the second her lips touch his and he moans into her mouth as Alex reaches between them and pulls his throbbing cock from his pants. Without breaking their kiss, she reaches into his pocket, searching until she finds a condom and pulls it out. She rolls it over him and then strokes his latex-covered length with soft fingers until he whimpers and pushes her away, sitting up to wrap his arms around her back, steadying her as she sinks down on him, eyes on his.

And the world around him is suddenly deafeningly quiet. He can't hear or see anything that doesn't involve her.

"Fuck," he chokes out in a strangled voice as Alex's hands settle on his shoulders. She pants into his neck, pausing to give herself time to adjust and Matt uses the brief moment of respite to get himself under control. She feels incredible, tight, warm perfection all around him and if he doesn't get a hold of himself, he's going to come before they even get started. He wants nothing more than to hold her down by the hips and thrust up into her pulsing heat until his head is spinning and Alex is screaming in his ear. He manages to rein himself in until she nips at his earlobe and rolls her hips. He grunts and rocks against her, making her gasp.

Her inner muscles clutch at his cock and they both hiss as she takes him deeper inside her. Nails digging into his skin through his t-shirt, Alex begins to raise herself up and down over his length and for a moment, Matt experiences a surreal moment of realization - he is fucking his father's wife, rock hard inside her while she twists around on his lap and moans. But then Alex's chest brushes against his, the soaking wet material of her dress brushing against him, and who they are to each other doesn't matter. He surges forward and latches his mouth onto the supple skin of her breast just over the neckline of her dress.

Alex moans, pushing out her chest and encouraging him to continue. He wonders how sensitive her nipples are and just how hard he could make her come just by sucking on them and toying with her clit. He wants to find out and he vows that next time, he's going to get her completely naked and study her like a priceless work of art. He'll find out what she likes, what makes her cheeks pink from pleasure, where she's ticklish, and what makes her shout until she's hoarse.

Next time...will there be a next time?

He wonders if he's actually convinced Alex of anything or if she still thinks he's quite mad. Above him, she begins to move faster, her curls clinging to her face and her skin glistening with rainwater, and Matt really hopes there is a next time.

The waist-high grass around them trembles and sways with their every move as he helps her lift herself over him and Matt doesn't think he'll ever enter these woods again without thinking of her - her slick skin, her hair, her sighs of pleasure in his ear. He can feel his orgasm approaching quickly and he knows Alex is close - her thighs quiver and her moans are increasingly high-pitched and breathy. Slipping a hand under her dress and between her legs, he finds her clit and rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves frantically with his thumb.

Throwing her head back, Alex gasps out, "Yes, Matt. Yes, yes, there..."

Still working her clit, he leans up and attaches his mouth to her throat, sucking hard and not giving a damn that his father will see. He wants to taste her; he wants to leave his mark on her skin. If they never do this again, he wants her to have a reminder of this moment, of his hands and his mouth and the way he made her feel so that every time she looks in the mirror for days afterward, she'll remember.

Tightening around him, Alex digs her nails into his shoulders and shouts as her release washes over her. Her slick walls clench and unclench around his cock and Matt feels his own climax rushing through him with a powerful force. He yanks Alex's mouth down to his as he comes, kissing her roughly.

She stills against him and the sounds of the world come back into focus with a vengeance. He can finally hear the pounding rain and the rumbling of thunder, the wind caressing the grass around them.

Tossing the condom aside, Matt holds Alex to him and reclines back in the grass, letting her head fall to his shoulder as he stares up at the dark clouds above them. Alex runs her fingers over his rain-soaked t-shirt and presses a lazy kiss to his neck, closing her eyes.

Pushing one hand into her tangled hair, Matt reaches out beside them and plucks a dandelion from the earth, tucking it behind her ear in a fit of whimsy. Alex rests her chin on his chest and looks at him, unamused. "What?" He asks, raising his head weakly to kiss her nose. "You look good in flowers, Kingston."

She stretches out her arm and picks another, placing it behind his ear and giggling. "So do you, darling."

Leaving the dandelion where it is, he holds her close and leans his head back, smiling as he listens to the rain hitting the tree leaves all around them.

Your name is pounding through my veins

Chapter Notes

-waves- Hey guys! Back from my trip so comment replies should be less sporadic now. Thank you all so much for your feedback! Chapter title from Dashboard Confessional's The Secret's in the Telling.

It's been four days and they haven't spoken of their confrontation in the meadow. Alex prefers it that way – she doesn't know what to think of the things Matt said out there and she likes to tell herself that he hadn't really meant any of it, that forbidden lust had just clouded his thoughts. Because if she lets herself believe that the look in his eyes as he'd shouted at her over the sound of the rain had been anything other than desire, it'll only hurt both of them. Matt doesn't bring it up again either, so she hopes he's too mortified that he'd said things he didn't really mean to bring it up again.

So they both skirt around the issue of the words spoken between them in that meadow and return to what they know, what they understand – sex and flirting. Alex has gotten quite good at silently seducing Matt from across the dinner table and seeking him out after David has gone to bed is an adventure. A dangerous, stupid one, but Alex has always enjoyed a challenge.

She likes Matt, and he touches and handles her in a way no man ever has before, but more than that, she enjoys his company even when they're not in bed together. It's a good way to pass the time while she tries her best to ignore her latest failed marriage in the making. She's starting to think she could go on like this forever, sneaking kisses with Matt in darkened corridors and still managing to smile at her husband over breakfast in the morning.

And of course, that's when things begin to change.

Alex had been in Matt's bedroom until three in the morning and when David wakes her at six – thirty, she's bleary-eyed and less than pleased to be conscious. She follows him sleepily to the kitchen and makes the coffee while he pours himself a bowl of cereal, promising herself that as soon as he leaves, she'll go curl up under the blankets with Matt and fall back asleep.

"I've got a party to go to tonight," David says, frowning at the morning paper in front of him.

"Oh?" She asks, not really listening as she sets about getting two mugs from a cupboard.

"A client of mine is celebrating the opening of his new business." He looks up from his paper and watches her pour two cups, carrying them to the table. "I'm going to need you to come with me."

Oh please no.

Spending the evening at a party with David and one of his arrogant clients sounds like the most horrible form of punishment Alex can think of.

"Why would I need to come?" She asks, resisting the urge to tell him to bring Pink Post-it Note Girl instead and taking a seat next to him. "Isn't it just business?"

"It's not just business. A lot of people from work will be there with their families and it would look a lot better if I had my family there as well."

"Ah, of course. For appearance's sake." She sips at her coffee and refuses to look at him.

David sighs, placing a hand on her bare knee beneath her robe and Alex fights to keep from shoving it off. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. Would you just pick out a nice dress and be ready by seven tonight? And tell Matt to be ready too. It'll do him good to mingle with people who aren't actors."

She bristles. "I might be a little more inclined to go if you asked nicely rather than just demanding it of me, like I'm your bloody escort service." She cups her hands around her mug, letting it warm her cold fingers. "And stop looking down your nose at your son just because he doesn't wear a suit to work every day. Not everyone wants to spend their day cooped up in an office."

"That office," David says, putting down his mug with a thunk, "is the reason you have the option of staying home and painting all bloody day. And maybe if my wife treated me with a bit more affection at night, I might be willing to ask nicely."

Alex grips her mug tightly and purses her lips, sitting through the remainder of their breakfast silently fuming. When David gets up to leave for work with a squeeze to her knee and a kiss on her cheek, she barely acknowledges him, glaring at his back the moment he turns around.

When she hears the sound of his car pulling away from the house and down the driveway, she

tosses her coffee mug into the sink and breathes deeply, blinking back tears of frustration and climbing the stairs. She stops outside Matt's bedroom door and turns the knob quietly, peering into the dark room.

She can just make out Matt lying on his stomach, hugging his pillow and sleeping soundly. Smiling, she pads over to his bed and slips beneath the covers, curling into him. He frowns in his sleep, twisting around until he's lying on his side before slinging an arm around her waist.

Sometimes it unsettles her, how much more comfortable and safe she feels in Matt's arms than she feels in her husband's but she doesn't want to dwell on that now. So instead, Alex buries her face in Matt's neck, breathing in the scent of the soap he uses and falling asleep, leaving thoughts of David and business parties behind.

When she wakes, it's to Matt running his fingers through her hair and his hand working to untie her robe. She smiles without opening her eyes, saying, "I hope you were planning to wake me up first. Not really into Somnophilia."

"Spoilsport," he says, kissing her temple. "And I sort of planned on you waking up before I even got my hand in your hair. But now I'm working on this robe and the bloody damned thing won't -

"

She laughs, opening her eyes and pushing his hand away. "You're very uncoordinated, darling. How you've managed to get anyone into bed at all, I'll never know."

"Oh didn't I tell you, Kingston?" He asks, mouth moving to her neck. "You were my first."

Smacking him and huffing when he begins to laugh, Alex stares up at the ceiling and grins. "Idiot."

Nipping at her throat despite how many times she has warned him that leaving marks will only cause trouble for them both, he insists, "You like it when I'm an idiot."

She snorts. "And what on earth has led you to such a conclusion?"

"Because if you only liked me when I wasn't being an idiot, I would never have gotten past first base."

"True," she says musingly. "There must be something about your idiocy that I like. How unfortunate for me."

"Unfortunate, extraordinarily lucky," he says, hands back at the tie on her robe. "Tomato, tomahto."

He looks so confident and Alex can't think of a better way to wipe that look off his face than to say, "You and I are going with your father to a business party tonight."

His hands freeze on the belt of her robe and he lifts wide hazel eyes to stare at her, that look of confidence gone and replaced by something that can only be called crestfallen. Alex feels inordinately smug. "Wait, what?"

She shrugs, sitting up and untying her robe, tossing it to the floor. "Apparently it will look better if we're there."

"Ah," he says knowingly, still looking glum. "The ol' Family Gambit. Nothing looks better to potential clients."

He sounds like he's been through it before and Alex suddenly pictures a much younger Matt and Laura dressed in uncomfortable clothes and forced to stand next to their father at parties and smile at strangers, looking picture perfect to further along David's business. Some things never change.

Suddenly not feeling quite so victorious, she scoots over to him and climbs into his lap. "Well, I'll be there to keep you company. We can keep each other from being bored to tears. I'll bring a flask and you can bring a deck of cards."

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around her and sliding his hands over the material of her camisole. "It'll certainly be a step up from lurking in a corner with Laura and wishing I was invisible."

Heart seizing at the words and the picture it conjures in her mind; Alex loops her arms around his neck and leans forward, kissing him softly.

When she pulls away, Matt follows her lips eagerly, mumbling against them, "Can't say I would

mind hiding in a corner with you, though."

She grins, taking his hand in hers and guiding it until he cups her breast through her shirt, she says, "In the meantime, I would hate for this nice warm bed to go to waste."

"That would be a tragedy," he agrees, and pushes her backwards, grinning when she shrieks and falls against his pillows.

They spend the afternoon in his bed, only climbing out to take a shower. Alex is still feeling vindictive enough after her disagreement with David this morning to take Matt into the master suite bathroom, pushing him against the tiled wall of the shower she shares with her husband and dropping to her knees under the spray of water.

Afterwards, he lies on her bed with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair damp as she sorts through her closet, trying to find something suitable to wear. He vetoes two of her choices – one a slinky red dress that he claimed would give him a permanent hard-on and the other a white sundress with a hem just below her knees that he complained meant he couldn't see enough of her legs. She is just about to kick him out and choose something without his input when something in the back of her closet catches her eye.

It's sparkly and black and shows far too much cleavage.

Smiling, she holds it up for inspection and watches Matt's eyes light up and a silly grin spread across his face. Definitely this dress then. She looks forward to feeling his eyes on her all night – it'll at least give her something to do. She knows she should be dressing for her husband, but the only person's approval she really cares about is his son's. When had that happened? It's been four days since they started sleeping together and she already finds herself wading in far too deep. If she doesn't stop soon, she fears she'll drown.

When David arrives home to change, he says nothing when he sees Alex and while Matt would prefer that he keeps his hands off her regardless, even a blind man could see how gorgeous she looks in that dress, her dark curls voluminous and her lips red. She wouldn't let him touch her after their shower because she hadn't wanted to smell of him or sex when David came home but Matt has been itching to press her against a wall ever since he watched her apply her lipstick in the mirror.

Probably best not to think about that, though. Not with his father in the car.

They drive to the party in relative silence and Alex doesn't even wait until they're down the driveway before turning up the radio so the quiet isn't so uncomfortable. Matt sits in the backseat, tapping his fingers against his knee to Suffragette City and watching David take one hand from the steering wheel to rest it on Alex's thigh. Jaw clenched, he turns from the sight to stare out his window and watch the country lanes roll past and the lights of London nightlife come into view.

The car slows to a stop on Upper Belgravia Street and Matt glares at the grand house lit up from within; silently wishing he could be anywhere else. He remembers these parties all too well and as soon as he talks to Laura, he's going to tell her how much he hates her for making him go to one without her.

He watches David walk around to the other side of the car and open Alex's car door and sighs, climbing out after her. She catches his eye as they walk up to the door and the sound of the party inside the house begins to reach their ears. She winks at him and Matt wishes he could pull her from his father and escort her into this party himself – he wants to take her out and introduce her to people as his Alex. Not his stepmother, or David's latest wife.

The moment the man at the door takes their coats; David is escorting Alex through the throng of people and motioning for Matt to follow. He doesn't, of course, because it'll only be shaking hands with people his father wants him to work for and Matt doesn't feel like rowing with David about his career choices again – not tonight.

As soon as they're out of sight, Matt heads for the drinks and is disappointed to find only champagne. What kind of a rubbish party only has champagne?

Grabbing two flutes, Matt heads for the balcony and wonders how long it will take before his father finds him and drags him back inside. He skirts around the various topiaries decorating the little spot and leans against the railing on the balcony to watches partygoers pass by the windows. He spots Alex a couple of times, looking as bored as he feels as David parades her around on his arm. She sees him once through a window and glares at him when he waggles his fingers but she doesn't give his location away.

Just as he expected, it isn't long before she slips out onto the balcony, joining him in leaning against the railing. "I thought you were going to keep me company," she complains.

"You looked pretty busy," he says, thinking of her arm linked with David's and trying not to sound jealous. "I'll keep you company as long as you're away from him. He'll just surround me with businessmen who want to give me their cards and ask me about my career plans."

She sighs, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "You have a career, darling. Don't let him vex you."

He doesn't know why Alex is always so supportive of him – he doubts she's seen any of the small movies he's been in or the plays he's worked on – but he appreciates it all the same. He offers her the other flute of champagne but she waves it away, smiling as she opens her tiny handbag and reaches inside, producing a small silver flask with a flourish.

Staring at her in awe as she takes a nip and pushes it into his hand, he says, "You are even more fantastic than I thought you were, Kingston."

She shrugs modestly. "A girl should never go to a swanky party without a flask."

Taking a sip and grimacing at the unexpected taste of vodka, he hands it back to her, wiping his mouth. "Anything interesting happening in there?"

Wrapping one arm around herself, Alex turns from the view of the party to stare out into the street below. "Besides your father getting smashed with the only bottle of whiskey and getting a bit handsy, no."

Matt tightens his grip on the railing and scowls. "Just tell him to sod off until he's sober."

No, tell him to sod off and never touch you again – sober or not.

Alex laughs quietly, looking at him with pained eyes. "Not handsy with me, darling."

"What?" Frowning, he turns from the view of London to the windows again, searching out his father with rage clawing up his throat like bile. "Who is he touching besides his damned wife?"

Closing a hand around his wrist, she shakes her head and maneuvers him back toward the view of the street. "Don't worry about it – I don't care. He's just drunk."

"Drunk or not," he spits, "Who the hell does he think he is?"

Drawing comforting circles on the inside of his wrist with her finger, Alex watches him fondly. "It's fine, honestly. If anything I'm rather happy about it – means he isn't paying attention to me and I can be with you out here rather than in there with the other younger trophy wives."

He snorts, oddly soothed by the touch of her fingers. "Yeah, saw them. They've definitely got nothing on you."

Alex scoffs, elbowing him and shooting him a sideways grin. "Did you see me standing with them earlier? All of them tiny, blonde and young? It was like a game of 'One Of These Things Is Not Like The Others'."

Laughing quietly, Matt watches her take another sip from her flask and desperately wishes he was free to pull her into him, to kiss her and tell her how ridiculous she's being and how beautiful she is. She passes the flask to him and looking down, he notices for the first time the print of red lipstick left behind. It sends a thrill straight through him and he grips the flask tightly, lifting his eyes to see her smirking at him, brushing curls from her eyes.

Sliding his hand across the railing to cover her warm fingers with his own, he takes pride in the way she freezes in place, waiting for his next move. Her eyes, sparkling from the alcohol, have never looked so green and her hair is just calling for him to run his hands through it, to feel curls wind around his fingers as he tilts her head up.

"I wish I could kiss you," he breathes, chest aching with the yearning he feels to do just that.

Breath catching in surprise and eyes darkened, Alex steps a little closer to him, a smirk twisting her lips. "Well that wouldn't do at all. You'd smear my lipstick, dear."

The image of her red lipstick smeared across her mouth and all over his skin is not an unappealing one and he swallows hard, coming to a rather rash decision as he watches her blink up at him like she has no idea what she does to him. Moving swiftly behind her and closing his hands over hers on the railing, he whispers into her ear, "Stand very still and try to look fascinated."

She squirms against him. "Fascinated with what? What are you doing?"

"I don't care what, just look at something down in the street," he says, pointing down there

randomly just in case anyone happens to glance through the balcony doors and see them. He slides his hand over the silky fabric of Alex's black dress, bunching it in his fingers and dragging it up.

Alex gasps as the cool night air hits her bare thighs, beginning to struggle. "Matt, no, what are you -"

"Ssh," he hushes her, smiling against her neck. "No one's paying attention – they're too busy dancing and getting sloshed. And even if they did look out, it's dark. They would probably see the topiaries lining the bloody place before they'd see us."

"But if they did see -"

"They won't. I promise." He smoothes his palm over her thigh and up her bum, biting back a groan at the feel of smooth skin under his hand. "No knickers? Are you deliberately trying to kill me? Bloody hell!"

Despite her protestations, Alex laughs softly, dropping her head. He fights back the urge to press his lips to the line of her shoulders. "Lucky for you, this dress is too clingy to wear knickers."

Giving her cheek soft pinch that makes her yelp and push that lovely arse back against him, Matt slides his hand between her thighs and parts her folds with his fingers. Alex arches against him as he circles her already swollen labia, grinding against his prick. He hisses and pushes back, brushing his fingers against her clit as he does. It earns him a sharp gasp and he smiles, darting away from the little nub and teasing at her entrance again. She's more than ready for him, soaking his fingers as he taunts her with soft strokes but he can't resist touching her, feeling what he does to her and the way she trembles under his touch.

"Matt," she whispers, pushing against him desperately. "Now. Please."

The desperation in her voice has him undoing his trousers with shaking fingers, just enough to free his cock from his pants. He pulls out a condom and rolls it on hurriedly. He brushes the head of his length teasingly over Alex's slick entrance and against her clit, biting his lip when she moans and spreads her legs a little further apart, leaning over the balcony until she's looking directly down into the street. Watching all the people below pass by on the pavement while she waits for Matt to fuck her.

The thought has him biting back a groan and he shifts closer, lining himself up and pushing into

her. His breath catches as it always does the moment his length is wrapped in her tight velvet heat, the different angle sending him deeper inside her than he's ever been. Alex pushes back against him with a low moan and Matt sends a silent thank you to whoever had turned the music up inside the flat.

He thrusts into her and Alex pushes back fervently, her gorgeous arse curving against him as she does. The sounds of the party and the bustle of the street below are nothing compared to the way her soft moans and breathy cries reverberate in his ears. Nothing else seems to matter but her and how they make each other feel. He thinks if someone walked out onto the balcony right now and saw them, he wouldn't care. Alex makes him feel like he could deal with just about anything, as long as her hand is in his.

"Alex," he murmurs, hands gripping her hips tightly as he plunges into her. "Alex…"

She grinds her arse against him shamelessly as she grips the railing in front of her and he can feel her climax approaching in the way her whole body tightens and coils like a spring. "Matt," she whimpers.

Reaching around to touch her clit and reveling in the way her thighs quiver as he presses down hard, Matt lowers his head and says softly, "You like this, don't you, Alex? Being fucked in front of all these people while they're totally oblivious? Drinking their champagne and dancing. People in the street could look up right now and see your face as you come."

She moans.

"What if everyone in there all turned around and saw you right now, hmm?" His lips brush her ear as he rubs his fingers over her clit frantically. "Bent over the balcony with your dress around your waist and your stepson inside you while you begged for it?"

Grip on the railing white-knuckled, Alex gasps out, "God, yes," and clenches around him, her whole body jolting with the force of her release.

Her legs seem to give out from under her but Matt holds her up, pushing her harder against the railing as he pounds into her and Alex urges him on with soft little moans while her heat continues to flutter around him. It only takes a few more thrusts before he's coming hard, gasping her name into her hair.

When their heart rates have slowed and Alex can stand without his support, he pulls away from

her, tucking himself back into his trousers and stashing the used condom into one of the potted plants. Smoothing down her dress, Alex turns to him with his favorite, soft-eyed smile. The one she usually gives him when they're lying in bed afterward and he loves that she still has it now, in the middle of a party on a little balcony.

She glances nervously through the doors and relaxes when she doesn't see anyone gaping at them. "You are so lucky no one saw that."

"You like it." Twisting a curl around his finger, he brushes his lips over her forehead and whispers, "My lovely exhibitionist."

Just then the doors to the balcony open and David steps out, fiddling with the cufflinks on his suit. Matt and Alex spring apart, hoping they don't look too guilty as David glances up. "There you are," he says, his words a little slurred. "Have you been out here the entire time? I've been searching the whole bloody place for you."

Alex steps forward and takes his proffered arm, cheeks flushed as she mutters, "I just needed some air."

"Well I need you with me." David begins to pull her back inside. "Matt, you too. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

Matt isn't sure if he's just grateful for the time he did get away from his father and his friends or if he's still high on the rush of orgasm but he follows David and Alex back inside without complaint. He accepts business cards with polite smiles and silently vows to toss them in the trash the first chance he gets. David continues to drink, his arm around Alex's shoulders as she leans into him uncomfortably, her smile bright and frozen. A tall, thin woman with short dark hair lingers close to them, touching David's arm frequently and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

Matt spends a lot of time glowering at her and his father, since David does absolutely nothing to deter her. It's not an unusual sight but with Alex standing right there, trying her best to ignore them and looking alone even with David's arm around her, Matt finds it a lot harder to bear. How can his pillock of a father stand there with his beautiful wife – the most fantastic, amazing woman Matt has ever met – at his side and openly flirt with another woman?

How?

He'll never understand his father.

From what he gathers of their conversation, the woman works in the same building David does and Matt would be shocked if they weren't already shagging. His father is buggering up this marriage at an alarming rate and Matt can't help but wonder why. It's like he's getting more belligerent with each wedding ceremony.

When a slower song begins to blast from the speakers in the house, David pushes his drink into Matt's hand and pulls Alex out onto the designated dance floor with other couples. Standing awkwardly with a glass of whiskey and the tart his father is probably shagging, Matt shifts from foot to foot and tries not to glare out onto the dance floor. It should be him dancing with Alex – and not at this terrible party. He'd take her somewhere with better music and better alcohol, hold her close and hum in her ear…

The dark-haired woman leans against the wall next to him, crossing her arms over her chest and smiling up at him. "I don't think your father introduced us. I'm Cynthia."

On the dance floor, David is showing obvious signs of having had too much to drink. He holds Alex to him like a prop, his hands wandering places they shouldn't be in public as Alex tries to discreetly fend him off. Grip tight on the glass in his hand; Matt bites out a hello to the woman next to him.

She doesn't take the hint, nudging him playfully. "It's funny; you don't look like David at all." She laughs. "Sure he's your dad?"

"Unfortunately," he mutters under his breath, watching David's hand slide down to cup Alex's bum. Forcing his eyes from the scene, he turns Cynthia. "I look more like my mother. Though she was just the first in a long line of women who all thought they were special." He smiles thinly. "Just so you know, Cynthia, you aren't any different than they are."

Cynthia stares at him, eyes wide. "What -"

"Just fair warning," he says, pushing the drink into her hands and striding toward his father and Alex.

Alex shoots him a grateful look as he reaches them, pushing David away and steadying him with a hand on his arm. "I think we're ready to leave now. Would you be a dear and grab my handbag, Matt? I'm going to help your father to the car."

"Damn it, Alex," David says, pushing her away. "I'm fine. I still have a few rounds to make here and when we do leave, I won't need help to the car. I'm not a child."

She levels him with a glare that might have alarmed David if he hadn't been so drunk. "You may not be a child but you have the balance of a toddler at the moment and I'm not going to be your crutch all evening. So say goodbye to your friends and let's go."

David's cheeks flush with anger and Matt decides to step in before things get too heated. Placing a hand on his father's chest, he looks at Alex and says, "I'll help him. Go get your bag, Kingston."

Irritation dissipating, she smiles at him in thanks and disappears into the crowd without a backwards glance as Matt maneuvers his father toward the door. He isn't totally sloshed and thankfully all Matt has to do is guide him along and nod as he grumbles under his breath about being treated like a kid.

He helps David into the back seat because no way in hell is he driving and Matt certainly isn't going to make Alex sit in the back. David waves him away with a growl when he tries to help him with his seatbelt and Matt sighs, shutting the car door and sliding into the driver's seat. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel as they wait for Alex, just to be annoying.

After a beat of silence, he asks, "You work with Cynthia?"

"Mm."

"Just work with her?"

David glances up sharply, glaring at him as Matt stares him down through the rearview mirror. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means," Matt says quietly, eyes narrowed.

Without responding, David turns to stare out the window.

Unwilling to let it go, Matt grips the steering wheel tightly and says, "She deserves so much better than you."

Surprised, David looks at him just as the passenger door opens and Alex climbs in, handbag tucked under her arm. "All settled?" She asks, turning to look at David.

He nods, speechless.

Alex smiles and buckles her seatbelt as Matt starts the car, enjoying his father's temporary silence. The quiet lasts all the way back to the house and Matt spends most of the ride wishing he could reach over and touch Alex, lace their fingers together and kiss her knuckles. Instead, he steals the occasional glance in her direction and keeps his hands on the steering wheel.

When they arrive home, David climbs out of the car without assistance and after shooting a pointed look at Matt, wraps his arm around Alex's waist and begins to lead her away. Alex squirms against him but he holds her closer and eventually she gives in, leaning into him as they walk toward the house and through the front door. As they start up the stairs, David takes her hand and leans in, beginning to kiss her neck ardently.

Standing at the bottom of the staircase with the memory of Alex beneath him still fresh in his mind, Matt looks away, feeling sick to his stomach.

Right or wrong, don't it turn you on?

Chapter Notes

-hugs you all for your lovely comments-

Chapter title from Joan Jett's Do You Want To Touch Me.

The next morning David wakes up in a bad mood – excessive drinking is not kind to him. Besides handing him some paracetamol when he wakes up, Alex doesn't tend to him and he spends a majority of his morning cooped up in his study. She's so relieved to be rid of him and his sour mood that she doesn't complain. Perhaps he and Cynthia – Post-it Girl finally has a name – can commiserate together on the phone about their hangovers.

She sits at the breakfast table in cutoff shorts and a tank top, planning on spending the day cleaning the house as soon as she can gather up the energy. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep last night. With her husband's arm around her waist, she'd stared into the darkness of their bedroom and wished she were lying next to someone else. It hadn't made for a pleasant night's sleep.

Now, it's nearly noon and she hasn't seen Matt once.

Alex is just finishing the lunch she made for herself when he finally makes an appearance. He doesn't look like he just got out of bed but she knows for a fact that he hasn't left his bedroom all morning. She wonders how long he's been sitting in his room, avoiding David.

"Sorry," she says as he pours himself some tea. "I should have gone up and told you your father was hiding away in his study."

"Don't worry about it," he says, not looking at her. "I was asleep anyway."

It's a lie. She knows what Matt looks like when he just wakes up and this isn't it. He usually terribly chipper for one thing – he's such a morning person and it drives her mad. Right now, he looks like he doesn't want to talk to anybody. Not even her.

Pushing away from the kitchen sink and touching his arm, she asks, "Are you feeling alright, dear?"

Sipping at his tea, he nods and subtly moves away from her touch. "Fine. Just tired."

She frowns. "I thought you just got up?"

"And I had a rubbish night's sleep, Kingston," he snaps. "Is that an acceptable answer? Can I drink my tea without the Spanish Inquisition now?"

A little stunned, Alex nods, glancing away. "Right. Sorry." She turns to continue cleaning up the kitchen, biting her lip.

She doesn't know why she continues to let herself believe she will eventually find a man who doesn't talk to her like she's an idiot – it hasn't happened yet. She'd thought Matt was different but obviously he spent a little too much time with his father growing up. Maybe he's just tired of her – she can hardly blame him. A man like him, young and gorgeous, stuck in this drafty old house all day with a middle-aged woman who always has charcoal or paint on her hands. She's surprised he wanted her to begin with.

It's stupid anyway, this thing between them. Best to end it now before she winds up with two men in the same house who barely tolerate her. Busying herself with scrubbing vigorously at the countertop with a sponge, she blinks back tears and begins to plan the best way to avoid Matt for the next two weeks until he goes back to London.

Matt, who has been watching her silently, says softly, "Alex."

She ignores him.

"Alex, please. Stop that and look at me." His voice is soft and contrite and she can sense the return of her Matt – and when had she started thinking of him that way? – rather than the copy of David who first came into the kitchen. It makes her pause but she still doesn't turn around.

"What is it?"

He sighs and she hears him setting down his mug of tea before walking over to her, resting his hand on her shoulder gently. "I'm sorry. I'm in an awful temper this morning but that doesn't

mean I've got to be such an arse to everyone else. Especially you."

She nods stiffly, resisting the urge to lean into the touch of his hand and staring at the sponge still clenched in her fist. "True. I think I deal with enough rubbish behavior from your father. Certainly don't need any extra from you."

His thumb rubs across her shoulder blade soothingly just as he lowers his head and kisses the back of her neck. "I know. That was uncalled for and I really am sorry. It won't happen again, I promise."

Bloody hell, how does he always manage to apologize so graciously? No sane person could ever say no to him, with that sincere voice and she's sure if she turned around, those hazel eyes would be wide and guileless, making her weak-kneed in the process. Sighing in defeat but inwardly utterly relieved that he hasn't tired of her after all, Alex turns to face him, finding herself pinned to the kitchen counter. "We've got to stop meeting like this, dear."

He smiles widely, relief flashing in his eyes at her forgiveness. "You'll never hear me complain."

She laughs, resting a hand on his chest. "Well, out with it, please. Why so horrid this afternoon?"

The smile drops instantly and he shakes his head. "It's nothing. Just a bad night's sleep." He leans down, brushing his lips over her forehead. "Probably because you weren't next to me."

"Matt," she says, looking up into his eyes. "Your father has lied to me every single day of our marriage, and before that, I had two ex-husbands, one who lied right to my face about an affair for three years and another who bottled all his feelings until suddenly he couldn't even be around me anymore. Please don't make me add you to the list of men who can't be honest with me."

Matt squares his jaw, eyes solemn as he gazes down at her. He seems to be debating with himself and she lets him, waiting silently. Finally, he blows out a quiet breath and says, "I don't like seeing you with him. I don't like standing across the room and watching him touch you and I don't like the way he treats you. And last night, with that Cynthia woman." He huffs, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. "And then he just pulled you upstairs like he hadn't been a total arse all evening. And he was touching you and kissing you and I can't -"

Alex leans up on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his just long enough to shut him up. When she pulls away, Matt blinks at her, silent. Under his scrutiny, she fumbles her words a little, struggling to convey her meaning. "He didn't…we didn't…last night."

Thankfully, Matt catches on to her meaning quickly and she watches fondly as the relief transforms his face into something wonderfully adorable. "Oh. Really?"

She shakes her head, smiling a little. She doesn't know why, but she thinks she would have felt guilty if they had. David is her husband for God's sake but sleeping with him now would somehow feel like a betrayal to Matt. She knows it's twisted, but she can't help it.

Matt beams at her, and then takes her face in his hands and kisses her enthusiastically. Alex laughs against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. He snakes his tongue past her lips and brushes it against hers and she moans quietly, lifting one hand to rake through his hair as Matt pushes his fingers into her curls.

He pins her in place with his hips, letting her feel him against her thigh as he breaks away from her mouth to trail hot, rough kisses along the line of her jaw. "Promise me," he says, breathless and Alex whinges into his neck as he grinds his hips against hers. "Promise me you won't let him touch you."

Oh, this is dangerous territory they're venturing into. She can't promise him that – David is her husband and she can't stop him from touching her ever again. But Matt's mouth is warm over her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her while they rock their hips together and moan, and Alex wants nothing more than to agree.

And she might have, if not for the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall. She and Matt spring apart, flushed and panting. Matt hurriedly turns to face the counter to hide his erection and Alex runs a hand self-consciously over her red face, picking up the sponge lying on the counter.

Despite how much she really doesn't want to see her husband, she can't help but be grateful for David's arrival. Who knows what she would have agreed to otherwise. He strolls into the kitchen dressed in the clothes he usually wears when he goes golfing and she smiles at the thought of a few hours without him this weekend.

"Feeling better?" She asks, scrubbing at a nonexistent spot on the counter.

"Thanks to you," he says, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

Alex tries not to stiffen and refuses to let her eyes wander to Matt. Seeing the look on his face

won't help anything. David doesn't notice the sudden tension in her frame, pressing another kiss into her hair before backing away. She relaxes instantly, letting out a quiet breath and closing her eyes. She's uncomfortable around her own husband and she knows things can't continue on like this. Something needs to change.

Grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen table, David takes a bite and looks at Matt. "I'm golfing this afternoon with some of the blokes I introduced you to at the party last night. If you're not busy today, I'd like you to come."

Matt eyes him suspiciously. "Why?"

David sighs. "I'm not going to force you into a corporate job, Matthew. Is it a crime to want to spend time with the son I never see anymore?"

Alex can see Matt softening despite himself. From what she gathers, his relationship with his father has never been very strong and with good reason. But even adults are susceptible to guilt when it comes to their parents, and Matt is no exception.

After a moment of silence, he nods, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. "Yeah. Fine. I'll go."

David smiles. "Good. Grab a change of clothes and get your clubs. Meet me at the car." He pauses on his way out to kiss Alex goodbye, and then he disappears down the hall once more.

For a moment, Matt and Alex say nothing, listening for the sound of the front door shutting. When it does, Matt crosses the room in three long strides and gathers her into his arms, kissing her thoroughly. She moans, wrapping her arms around his neck and letting his tongue sweep through her mouth like he wants to erase every last trace of David from her lips. He nips with his teeth, biting down on her lip and making her whimper.

"We are definitely finishing this when I get back," he breathes against her lips and she smiles.

"Going to think about it on the golf course?"

"I doubt I'll think of anything else." Matt kisses her again, sliding his hand beneath her tank top and smoothing over the bare skin of her stomach. She wants to pull off her shirt and guide his head to her breast, wants to feel his hot mouth around her. She wants to tug him onto the kitchen

counter with her and sweep everything to the floor so she can feel his body against hers. But David is waiting outside and he really has to go.

Pushing weakly at him as Matt's hand trails up her stomach with intent, Alex mumbles against his lips, "No, Matt. You have to go. Your father is waiting."

He growls softly as she removes his hand from her shirt and takes a step back. "When we get back, he is going to bed early if I have to drug his bloody evening brandy."

Grinning, Alex shoos him away with a playful swat. "Oh, go on. Play golf with your father and his friends and be bored out of your mind while I stay here and get very hot cleaning this big old house."

He glares, kissing her again quickly before turning and starting for the door. "You're horrible," he calls over his shoulder.

"You love it," she replies, and smiles as he leaves.

When the front door opens hours later, Alex doesn't turn from wiping down the dining room table, scrubbing a little too vigorously. She hates this damn table - dark mahogany wood that isn't her taste at all but David insists on keeping it because it's been in the family for generations. The only room she's really allowed to decorate as she pleases is her art studio. At the sound of footsteps coming down the corridor, she glances up from her work and tugs at her denim shorts. Matt peers around the doorway and lifts an eyebrow. She smiles. "Hello stranger."

"You're a sight for sore eyes," he says, running a hand through his hair and looking weary. She laughs, eyeing his crisp polo and neatly pressed black trousers, that cap crumpled in his hand - not his style at all. The dress code for David's club must have been painful for him to adhere to. "Still cleaning?"

"Got the second floor done," she sighs. "The whole bloody damn house is a dust collector."

He smiles fondly, patting the doorframe. "Laura used to say the same thing when we had to clean it."

At the mention of his sister, Alex deflates a little – she really does miss that girl. "How was golf with your father?"

"Rubbish," he says, crossing the room quickly and pulling her into his arms. He kisses her fiercely, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her close.

Alex wants to give in, wants to wrap herself around him and forget everything. She wishes she could. "Matt," she says breathlessly, pulling away and glancing around nervously. "Where's David?"

"The office," he rumbles, kissing her again as his hands roam over her body. "Forgot some paperwork."

Relieved, Alex bunches his t-shirt in her fist, pressing closer to him. "Did he beat you?"

"Horribly," he admits, cheerfully and without shame.

Alex toys with the hair at the back of his neck and smiles. "Poor baby. Want me to kiss your bruised ego all better?"

"Maybe later," he laughs, and reaches for the button on her shorts.

Quite through with small talk, Alex hurriedly helps him push her shorts down her legs and kicks them aside. She's been aching for him since he left this afternoon, throbbing between her thighs even as she cleaned the dust from the picture of her wedding day with David. Matt kisses her again, biting at her lips as he grips her waist and lifts her onto the dining room table, standing between her legs.

She reaches for the bottom of his shirt to lift it over his head but he pushes her away, pulling back from her mouth and settling into the chair at the head of the table. He slouches against the stiff-backed chair like a king lounging on his throne and eyes her up and down speculatively. Alex can see the noticeable bulge in his trousers as he studies her and it makes the ache between her legs all the more unbearable. It's amazing, the reaction she can bring out in a man so much younger than her. Surely he's been with women sexier and more beautiful than she, and yet he looks at her and reacts to her like she's twenty years younger and without the start of wrinkles around her eyes.

"Take your top off," he orders softly, his eyes dark and intent as he watches her.

She almost moans, tugging her tank top over her head and tossing it away. She isn't wearing a bra and her nipples pebble instantly in the chilly air of the dining room. Matt's eyes narrow and he licks his lips as she trails a hand up her stomach and cups a breast in her palm, rolling her nipple between her fingers.

Swearing, Matt gives up the pretense of aloofness, standing abruptly and kissing her hard. He pushes her hand away and replaces it with his own as he guides her back onto the table. He doesn't linger long, unfortunately, kissing and nipping his way down her naked body spread out for him and arching toward his touch. He bites his way down her stomach, stopping briefly to dip his tongue into her belly button and make her giggle. He smiles briefly, kisses her abdomen, and continues down.

Without warning, his mouth sucks at her clit through her damp knickers and Alex yelps in shock, shooting up to clutch at his hair.

Smirking, Matt pulls away, extracting her hands from his hair and urging her back down. "Hands to yourself, Kingston."

Heat pooling rapidly in her belly and her body screaming for his hands on her, Alex glares but lies back down, thumping her head against the wood.

Settling into the chair again, Matt tugs her knickers down her legs and throws them carelessly over his shoulder. "I've been thinking about tasting you all day," he whispers, and she shudders in anticipation. Spreading her legs, fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against her thighs, Matt places a soft kiss to the side of her knee and despite the way her body throbs with want and thrums with expectation, Alex smiles up at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Ridiculous man.

Then, he spreads her folds with his fingers and presses his face into her heat. Alex arches toward him as his nose bumps her clit, struggling not to reach for him. Slowly, Matt licks the length of her, gathering her wetness on his hot tongue. She curls her hands into fists at her sides and bites down hard on her lip, stifling a whimper.

Matt hums softly and presses a kiss to her entrance before his tongue darts out again, tasting her. He avoids her clit, lapping at her with the flat of his tongue and Alex moans, lifting her hips restlessly in a desperate attempt for friction, for penetration, anything.

And that's the moment he pulls away. Of course.

"Do you have any idea what it's like to be thinking about the way you taste when my father is criticizing my bloody swing?" He asks. "Ever tried to concentrate on golf with a hard on, Kingston?"

Oh god, he is not seriously going to go off on one of his tirades now?

"Matt, please," she pleads, gasping and lifting her hips into the empty air. "Please, Matt. Your tongue, god, please -"

"So impatient," he tsks, nipping once at the inside of her thigh. "Can't a man complain about his day?"

"No," she growls. "Not with your face between my legs."

He looks contemplative, his eyes dark. "True. Don't have much to complain about now, do I?"

She huffs. "You will in a moment if you don't -"

Without another word or further exploration, Matt delves his tongue into her entrance as far as it will go and the words die in her throat. He alternates between thrusting and licking at her inner walls, devouring her with his mouth like he hasn't had a proper meal in months. She rocks her hips against his thrusts, the sounds coming from her mouth unable to be classified as anything other than shrieks.

Lost in mindless pleasure as Matt maps her insides with his tongue, Alex scratches at the hated antique table beneath her without a thought to how she'll explain away the marks. She's been doing a lot of explaining lately. Lying to her husband so she can go on shagging his son behind his back. "Oh god, Matt. Yes, yes, god."

Matt slips his tongue from her, replacing it quickly with two long fingers. He presses them into her relentlessly, knuckle-deep over and over while his teeth tug at her clit. Helpless to do anything but scream as he pleasures her tirelessly, bringing her closer and closer to the edge, Alex shouts his name until it echoes through the house, shattering spectacularly under his attentions and soaking Matt's fingers with her release. He laps it up with an eagerness that never fails to make her quiver.

Chest heaving, Alex laughs softly up at the ceiling as Matt slides his fingers from her and wipes smugly at his mouth. Before her dazed mind can come up with anything to say, he stands quickly and pulls Alex with him. She's face down with her bare breasts pressed into the wood and staring at her own fingernail marks scratched into the dining room table before she can so much as protest, but she's far too blissed out to even grumble about the rough handling. Behind her, she hears Matt unzip his trousers and fumble around with a condom packet, then feels the blunt head of his erection nudging insistently at her entrance. She presses back against him encouragingly and Matt pushes inside, sheathing himself inside her and filling her to the hilt.

From this angle, his length hits that delightful spot inside that makes her see stars and Alex moans loudly, her oversensitive heat clenching around him. Hands bruising on her hips, Matt pulls out and then thrusts back in forcefully, nearly shoving her up the table.

"Fuck, Alex," he grunts. "You feel so amazing, love."

She whimpers, wanting to make some kind of smart remark about the feeling being mutual but nothing but a strangled sound of pleasure escapes her throat. Matt's shirt scratches at her bare back and she just wants to turn over and clutch at him. She wants to wrap her legs around that

narrow waist and push his mouth to her breasts; she wants to rock her hips against him while he marks her skin with his teeth and tongue. Instead, she can only claw futilely at the table and push back against his furiously moving hips.

In the quiet of the dining room, she hears only the ticking of the grandfather clock, their grunts and moans, and the filthy sound of their bodies slapping together in their frantic coupling. Matt is so hard inside her, filling her up entirely with every inward thrust and as Alex begins to surge toward her second climax, she hears herself chanting mindlessly, "Yes, fuck me, yes, there..."

Behind her, Matt growls and shoves harder, deeper inside her. Alex keens, feeling a trickle of her own warm liquid slide down the crease of her thigh. So much for polishing the table, she thinks. "Come on, Alex," he says through gritted teeth. "Scream for me."

She moans, tightening around him - right there, just a little more...

Holding her hips down, he pounds into her roughly. "Every time I sit down at this table, I want to remember fucking you on top of it. I want to remember making you come all over this bloody family antique." He thrusts hard and she slides further up the table, her cheek burning from sliding against the wood. "Scream for me, Alex."

And beneath him, she comes undone.

With a strangled shout that might have been his name, she comes violently, tightening around him as she presses her face into the table and falls apart. The orgasm leaves her a quivering, shaking mess, limp as a rag doll and spread out on the table as Matt presses his chest to her back and continues to fuck her wildly. Alex can only blink dazedly at the table top and tremble until

he sinks his teeth into the back of her neck and bites out a ragged, "Alex" before falling over the edge of his release. Alex twitches with the aftershocks of her powerful climax, her heat fluttering around his spent cock. Matt collapses against her back, panting into her neck and she welcomes his warm weight. "Bloody hell."

She hums her agreement, feeling oddly content considering they just desecrated a priceless family heirloom.

Running his hands over her sweat-slicked skin, he pants, "Know what's going to be awkward?"

"What?"

"Sitting down to dinner at this table from now on and trying not to think about fucking you over it," he says, kissing her hair.

Alex laughs quietly. "Who says you should try not to?"

"Mm," he says, "you're right. Best memory ever."

She always hated this table before today but from then on, whenever she cleans it or sits down to dinner, Alex smiles.

I wish you were a stranger I could disengage

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from The Fray's Over My Head.

When the weekend is over and David goes back to work, Matt drags Alex out of house and into the weak English sunlight. He knows what it's like to be cooped up in that house with David, and the fresh air of the English countryside had been the only thing keeping him sane. Well, that and Laura. Carrying books and sketchpads, they pick a large tree halfway down the long driveway and settle under its shade. Alex presses her back against the tree trunk and Matt promptly collapses onto the grass, spread out carelessly with his head on her lap.

She rolls her eyes at him but her hand immediately settles in his hair, raking her nails over his scalp in a way that makes him want to purr contentedly. "You're very good at that."

"Salome likes it when I do this too," she says, and the affection in her voice is obvious.

He can't help but be curious about this little girl he's never met, who's part Alex. "Tell me about her," he says, looking up at her pleadingly. "What's she like?"

For a moment, Alex says nothing and the fingers in his hair still. He's afraid that maybe she doesn't want talk about it – he can't imagine being away from his child for so long but then her fingers begin to rake through his hair once more and she says quietly, "She's my little miracle. I wanted children for so long but nothing ever worked. Even tried adoption but it always fell through. And then Salome came along and made all the struggles worth it."

Matt thinks of Alex finally cradling the baby she'd always wanted to her chest and can't help but smile. "I bet she's brilliant." He tilts his head up and sees her looking down at him fondly. "Like her mum."

"Charmer," she says, and trails a finger over his forehead, laughing when he scrunches up his nose.

"Will I ever get to meet her?" He asks, swatting at her hand.

Alex sobers immediately and he almost regrets asking. "I don't know, darling. I don't even know when I'll see her again. I always have to fight for time with her. Florian doesn't make it easy."

He scowls, catching her hand in his and studying her fingers. Soft hands; always smudged with charcoal or paint. He loves her hands. "It's not fair. You're her mother – and probably a brilliant one. What right does he have to keep her away from you?"

Alex shrugs but doesn't reply, her eyes watery.

Matt presses his lips to her open palm in apology. "My turn, anyway. What do you want to ask?"

She chuckles, brushing her hand over his jaw. "Are we playing a game?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Do you really want that to be your question?"

Sighing, she pokes at him and ignores him when he squirms. "Tell me about Daisy. Why does Laura hate her so much?"

"Well I'm not particularly fond of her either," he points out. "We're on break, remember?"

"Do you think you'll start seeing her again when you get back to London?" He isn't sure if he hears the tinge of jealousy in her words because it's there or because he wants so badly to hear it.

"I don't think so," he sighs. "We're too different. All we do is fight and I can't remember the last time we had an actual conversation about something other than her nail polish."

Alex laughs quietly. "And Laura?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. She says healthy couples have at least one thing in common. Well, that and she just thinks Daisy is a slag."

"That poor girl," she laughs. "I can only imagine the way Laura must treat her."

"Oh no," he says. "She's always perfectly polite to her face. And anything mean she might say usually goes right over Daisy's head anyway." He rubs his hands together thoughtfully. "Alright, my turn…most embarrassing thing you've ever done?"

"What?" She laughs and shakes her head. "This is not a sleepover, Matthew."

"Come on," he whinges. "Please? I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

She almost growls at him in irritation and he would be lying if he said the sound didn't go right through him. He shivers and waits for her reply.

"I might have…" She trails off, sighing. "Promise not to laugh?"

He nods eagerly, desperate to know the woman he's sleeping with a little more.

All in one breath, she says, "I-might-have-done-naked-interpretive-dance." Matt can't help it. He laughs, clutching his stomach and cackling until tears spring to his eyes while Alex smacks at him and complains, "You promised!"

"Yes, I promised," he chuckles, trying to catch his breath. "Before you mentioned the words 'naked' and 'interpretive dance'."

"You are such a prick," she says, shoving at him. "I was young!"

Wiping at his eyes, he asks, "So what did you do? Dance about to wind chimes or something?"

She glares. "Or something."

"Like what?"

She mumbles and he strains to hear.

"What was that?"

She huffs. "Babbling brooks." Matt bursts into laughter again and Alex hits him. "I hate you."

"You don't," he says, grinning. "Was it for a class?"

Alex nods warily. "It was an art class. I'd dance and they'd draw it."

"Lucky bastards," he sighs. "I'd like to take a class like that. I bet it was terribly sexy." Tracing his finger over the soft material of her dress, he smirks. "If I'd been in that class, I probably wouldn't have gotten a bit of work done. Too busy staring at you."

"Too busy giggling, more like," she says, scoffing.

"I would not have giggled," he protests, looking up at her with wide eyes. "You just took me by surprise. I was expecting a story about running about someone's front yard in your knickers at a slumber party."

Alex looks smug. "You should know better than to expect the norm with me, darling."

"I'll never make that mistake again," he laughs. "Want to hear mine now?"

"It would certainly make me feel better."

He snorts. "Alright. Laura used to make me put on a wig and lipstick and have tea with her."

"Well that's not so bad," she says. "All siblings -"

"I was sixteen, Alex," he admits with a sigh, and can only shake his head when she starts to laugh. "It's not funny! I was scarred for life, Kingston! Mentally and emotional scarred."

"You poor darling," she says, still giggling breathlessly. "Tell me. Does the makeup aisle reduce you to tears? Do you shudder at the sight of a lipstick tube?"

"Yes," he huffs, glowering up at her. "I have nightmares about powder compacts. It's no joking matter, thank you."

This only makes Alex laugh harder but the sound is so wonderful to his ears that Matt can't regret sharing the story. She doesn't laugh often enough, his Alex. He should really do something about that. When she finally calms down and they decide that they've asked enough questions for the time being, they lie in silence for a while, Alex humming softly and Matt trying to make shapes out of the clouds.

When he grows tired of that, he opens the book he'd stolen from Alex's collection – a book of poetry by ee cummings – and starts somewhere in the middle, feeling blissfully content. Above him, Alex does not reach for her sketchbook and pencils, leaning her head back instead and commanding softly, "Read to me."

So he does.

He reads about thirty pages of poetry out loud while Alex runs her fingers through his hair and listens. It's quite possibly the most relaxing afternoon he's had in his life, and his voice slows with every poem, becoming more languid as he rests beneath the sun and Alex's hands. He almost drifts off to sleep mid-sentence until Alex scratches her nails under his chin and giggles.

"Wake up, darling," she says. "You're falling asleep on the job."

Yawning, he thrusts the book toward her face and says, "You read then, Kingston. My voice is tired."

She sighs and takes the book from him, tossing it aside. "That's probably enough poetry for one afternoon."

"I'm feeling inspired," he mumbles, shutting his eyes sleepily. "I think I might write you a sonnet and recite it under your window later. Something outrageously scandalous and full of metaphors about orgasms."

She snorts. "Yes, I'm sure your father would love that."

He bristles and turns his face toward her, pressing his lips against her inner thigh and making her breath hitch. "Could we please not talk about my father while we're discussing orgasms?"

"Yes, I'm growing tired of talking about them as well," she says, walking her fingers down his arm invitingly.

With those words, he really can't be blamed for taking her hand and brushing his lips over her knuckles, or sitting up to continue kissing up her arm and across her chest. And if he happens to suck at that spot on her neck that makes Alex gasp and clutch at his head, well, it isn't really his fault. She smells delicious and she looks so gorgeous in a thin green dress that brings out her eyes, and she'd just said the word 'orgasm'. He really can't help himself.

He kisses her softly and Alex pushes her fingers into his hair and deepens it instantly, moaning. Pushing against her until she settles back onto the grass, he hovers over her, still kissing her fiercely. Sliding her hands under his shirt, Alex clutches at him and lifts her hips against his with a quiet little whine that goes straight to his groin. With shaking hands, he lifts her dress around her waist and hooks his fingers into her knickers, sliding them hurriedly down her legs.

He pushes into her slowly and Alex clings to him, nails digging into his back and her soft moans in his ear as they rock against each other in the shade of the tree. When they're through, Alex has grass in her hair and Matt lies next to her, smiling goofily at it and refusing to tell her because he quite likes the look of it there, amongst all those perfectly dark ringlets.

"Have you fucked all your stepmothers?"

Surprised by the sudden question, Matt shakes himself from his post-orgasm afterglow and gapes at her. "What?!"

Alex shrugs. "They were all younger than me, after all. Just wondering."

Sputtering and unable to reply right away, he shakes his head, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. "No! That's – no. I think it's safe to say you're the only one I've wanted to sleep with."

She laughs softly, looking up at him with a playful light dancing in her eyes. "Well don't I feel special?"

Leaning down, he brushes his lips over hers and feels her smile against his mouth as he murmurs, "You are special." Pulling back, he taps her nose. "And I'm not fucking you, Kingston."

Raising an eyebrow, she asks, "Oh? And what would you call what we just did?"

He shakes his head and trails his finger down her cheek. "It's more than that. Better."

She smirks. "It certainly is."

Grinning, he leans down and kisses her again languidly. Alex wraps her arms around his neck and sighs. Neither of them really tries to dominate the kiss and as such, it ends up being rather slow and soft, lazy like the afternoon they're having. With one last gentle nip to her bottom lip, Matt rests his head on her chest and shuts his heavy eyes.

When he wakes again, he's lying on his own, the sun warm on his skin and Alex leaning against the tree, sketchbook in her lap. Her eyes flick to him occasionally and when she finally notices that he's awake, she smiles. "Hello sleepyhead."

He stretches, wiggling his bare toes against the grass and asking in a voice rough with sleep, "Are you drawing me, Kingston?"

She glances down at the sketchbook, pencil poised above the paper. "Your cheekbones interest me," she says, as if it's the only reason.

Smiling, he turns his face to the sky once more and lets her finish.

The next day, Alex drags Matt out of bed just before lunch, making him dress and practically manhandling him into her little vintage convertible. While Matt is still trying to understand what's happening, sleepy-eyed behind his sunglasses, Alex drives them even farther out into the country than they already are until there's nothing but dirt lanes and fields.

Then, she pulls off to the side of the road and turns off the car. Matt blinks at their surroundings. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Because I think you should know Laura is expecting a phone call from me tonight and if she doesn't get it, she'll be very suspicious."

Alex rolls her eyes. "We're having a picnic."

"Oh." He frowns. "I haven't had breakfast yet."

"It's past breakfast, darling," she sighs, getting out of the car and walking around to the boot. "You slept too late."

"Yes, but I can't just immediately start eating lunch just because it's lunchtime. I need time to adjust!" He turns in his seat and watches her get out a blanket and a basket.

She walks to the bonnet and spreads out the blanket over it before putting the basket on top and patting it invitingly. "Come on. Be a good boy and eat all your food." She smirks. "And then you can have dessert."

He doesn't even bother opening the car door, climbing over the side and joining her on the bonnet of the car eagerly, ignoring her triumphant laugh. Opening the basket, he peers inside and finds fruit, bagels, a container full of cereal, two spoons, and a little carton of milk. Breakfast.

He glances up at Alex in surprise and sees her grinning smugly. "You are brilliant," he says, leaning forward and kissing her soundly.

"I know," she says, and steals a bagel.

They spend several hours there on that deserted lane, sitting on the bonnet of Alex's car. They turn the radio on at one point and leaning back to stare up at the sky, curled around each other, they sing along and laugh when they don't get the words right.

When Matt can't take it any longer, he presses Alex into the car and kisses her until neither of them can breathe, his hand sneaking up beneath her sundress.

Eventually, the time comes to pack up their things and drive home before David returns from work. They do so reluctantly, putting the blanket and the basket into the boot and sharing one last snog against the car before climbing in and driving home. Alex keeps the top down and the wind blows through their hair, getting into their eyes and tickling their cheeks.

She turns up the radio and Matt smiles, reaching between them to take her hand. He doesn't let go until they pull into the driveway.

The next morning, Alex wakes him again – he still isn't sure how he feels about this new habit of hers, he's rather fond of sleep – climbing under the blankets with him and kissing his neck until he opens his eyes.

"Is this going to happen often?" He asks, slipping an arm around her waist. "Because if it is, I'm going to have to start going to bed earlier. Or taking vitamins."

Alex ignores him, smiling so widely that it's impossible to actually be cross with her. "Your sister just called me. She wants to go shopping."

He frowns, confused. That just defeats the whole purpose of going away so she doesn't get hurt when Alex inevitably leaves. He may have mentioned on the phone last night that Alex missed having her around but he hadn't expected anything to actually come of it.

Flopping back onto his pillow and shutting his eyes, he says, "Well have fun. Bring me back a nice hat." He flinches when he feels her finger jab into his side and opens one eye again in annoyance. "What now?"

Alex blinks down at him innocently and slips her hand beneath his shirt, rubbing his chest and trailing her fingers down his stomach. "I want you to come with us."

Squirming under her touch and trying not to let it affect him, he licks his lips and asks, "Why would I do that?"

"Well what else will you do here all day?" She asks, lifting his shirt over his head and bending to

press her lips to his skin. He shivers and rests his fluttering hands on her shoulders. "Besides, it'll be nice. Bonding time with the stepchildren."

He snorts. "We've bonded plenty, I think."

The remark earns him a sharp nip of her teeth and he yelps. "Hush. Don't be crude."

"Says the woman biting her way down her stepson's stomach," he points out, and then she palms him through his pants and he gasps.

It doesn't take him long to agree to go shopping after that.

Laura picks them up an hour later, honking the horn outside and grinning at them from the driver's seat. "Hop in, darlings. So much money to spend and so little time before Papa Bear comes back!"

Alex gets into the passenger seat and throws her arms around Laura, and Matt climbs into the backseat while the two women hug. "No one wants to hug me, then?"

"Of course I do," Laura says, pulling away from Alex to put the car into drive. "But you're so far away and I don't care enough to reach all the way back there."

"Oh charming," he says, snorting. Then, just to be cheeky, "What about you, Kingston?"

"I see you all day, darling," Alex says, turning slightly in her seat to give him a look that says she's thinking about the last time she hugged him five minutes ago. "I haven't had a chance to miss you yet."

He swallows hard, sliding on his sunglasses and wishing he'd remembered to bring cigarettes. He adores them both but it's far too early to deal with them at the same time. "Anyone got a fag?"

"No smoking in my car," Laura glares at him through the rearview mirror and he makes a face at her. "How did you get him to agree to come with us, Alex? Is he under a spell? Did you promise him a lolly for good behavior?"

Alex doesn't turn to look at him but he can hear the smirk in her voice as she replies, "Something like that."

He spends the next two hours following after Laura and Alex while they shop, carrying bags and doing quite a lot of whinging. He tries on a few hats but they veto every single one of them and when he starts peering at the bowties curiously, they drag him away by the arms. He pouts for a while but then they start trying on dresses and suddenly the afternoon looks a lot brighter.

Waiting outside the dressing rooms with bags all around him, he sits impatiently and waits for Alex to emerge. Laura comes out first, looks at herself critically in the mirror and then turns to him, eyebrow raised. "What do you think of this?"

He shrugs. "Very yellow."

She huffs. "Is that good or bad?"

"Dunno," he says, smiling a little. "Depends on whether or not you like yellow."

"Well that's helpful," she sighs.

When she starts to walk back into the dressing room, he calls out, "You look lovely, Lor."

"Oh shut up," she says and he grins when he hears her dressing room door shut. No matter how old he gets, he'll never grow tired of irritating his sister. When she comes out again, holding the dress, she sits on the arm of his chair and says, "I like yellow."

"Good," he says. "Then you'll both be very happy together."

She rolls her eyes at him but then the door to Alex's dressing room opens and she steps out in a green dress that shimmers a bit in the light. It hugs all of her curves in all the right ways and the neckline shows enough of her cleavage to get his heart racing. She stands in front of them and glances down at herself, biting her lip. "I'm not sure. What do you think?"

"Bloody hell." Laura whistles but Matt can't unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth long

enough to form words. "That is a must. I can only imagine the look on dad's face."

Matt flinches at that and glances at Alex. She smiles weakly, watching him encouragingly. "What about you, darling? What do you think?"

Because it doesn't matter what David would think of her dress. She cares what Matt thinks. And the knowledge of that floods him with warmth and makes him hide a smile behind his hand. "You -" He stops and clears his throat. "You look beautiful."

Alex beams at him, turns to look into the mirror behind her for a moment, and nods once. "Alright. I think I might get this one."

Laura shoots Matt a look he chooses to ignore, and then smiles at Alex. "You better. And don't tell David how much it cost until I can be there to see his face."

Laughing, Alex says, "I'll let you tell him yourself, dear. You'll have a front row view." And then she's gone, slipping back into her dressing room to change again.

Laura turns on him immediately, smirking. "Are you alright?"

Matt shifts uncomfortably. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because I saw your face when she walked out," she crosses her arms over her chest. "There were practically hearts coming out of your eyes."

"What? There were not!" He says, flushing.

"Oh, and you're blushing," Laura puts a hand to her chest and looks at him like he's an adorable puppy. "Are you crushing on your stepmother, Matthew? Because that is precious. Creepy, but precious."

"Oh bugger off," he huffs, and shoves her off the arm of his chair, his heart pounding and his cheeks red.

She laughs but doesn't bring it up again.

They go to a pub for lunch and while he and Laura set off to find a suitable table, Alex heads to the bar to get their drinks. She takes more than a few minutes and Matt eventually gets up to see if she needs helping carrying drinks to their table. He finds her standing at the bar, their drinks in front of her and a tall, broad-shouldered man leaning close to her, smiling. He puts a hand on her arm and squeezes slightly.

Instantly, Matt feels his blood boil at the sight and he clenches his fists at his sides, jaw tight. Alex is nodding to whatever the man is saying but her smile is forced and when she spots him striding toward them, her eyes light up.

"Darling, there you are," she says, sounding relieved. "I was just telling this gentleman that I didn't need help and you'd be along at any moment."

Matt reaches her and puts a possessive hand on her arm, but he keeps his gaze focused on the man in front of them. "And here I am," he says, barely managing to keep from growling. "Looks like she won't be needing you after all, mate."

Alex smiles at him kindly. "But thank you very much for the offer."

The man holds up his hands and backs away, still feeling cheeky enough to wink at Alex. "Any time, beautiful."

Matt fights the urge to bare his teeth. When the man walks away, he grabs two of the drinks on the bar and guides Alex back to their table without a word, his jaw clenched. Alex shoots him worried looks all through lunch but he can't shake the horrible feeling he'd gotten seeing her with that bloke. It had only served to remind him think of the other man in her life. His father.

Men want her – he certainly can't blame them for that – and Matt is powerless to do a damn thing about it because he's her stepson. He has no claim. Is it wrong of him to want Alex all to himself? He doesn't want to share her with anyone; he doesn't want another man touching her. Ever. He doesn't know what has come over him – he's never been the jealous type. Daisy has a whole group of straight male friends and he isn't bothered by it in the slightest but something about Alex brings out his possessive side.

He remains quiet through their meal, slightly contemplative but mostly just waiting to be alone with Alex again. He wants to mark her exquisite skin and reassure himself that it's his bed she

climbs into in the mornings when her husband goes to work. It's him she chooses to be with and no random bloke at a pub is going to change that.

He keeps telling himself that while he eyes Alex across the table as she talks animatedly with his sister, licking his lips and imagining what he'll do to her when Laura drops them off again.

Laura waves a hand in front of his face, giggling. "Anyone home in there?"

He blinks and glares at her. "Quite."

"Well stop brooding or whatever you're doing and tell Alex about the time dad took us with him to that business conference in Texas as a family vacation."

"Oh god," he says with a soft laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Why would you remind me of that? I could almost think of Stetsons without feeling queasy again."

Alex looks intrigued and he spends the rest of their meal telling her about how he and Laura had sneaked off to a rodeo when David was in a business meeting, with Laura cutting in occasionally to mention something he left out – usually something mortifying he'd done. By the time they're ready to leave, they're laughing so hard tears blur their eyes and Alex's face is flushed from cackling at their teenage antics.

Matt has almost completely forgotten about the man from the bar as they get up to leave, until that very same man walks up to them and hands Alex a napkin with his phone number written on it, smiling and telling her to ring him when she can get away from her children.

Fuming, Matt leaves the pub before he does something really stupid that he'll just regret. He waits at the car with his hands balled into shaking fists and his vision tainted red. That horrible, powerless feeling is back and his chest aches with it. Laura and Alex come out only moments later and as soon as the car is unlocked, Matt climbs into the backseat and stares out the window for the duration of the drive home, barely speaking.

When Laura pulls up outside the house, he practically leaps out of the car, helping Alex gather her shopping bags and thanking his sister for the afternoon. She promises to keep in touch and as soon as Alex has finished hugging her again, Matt ushers her inside the house. He intends to show her that some broad-shouldered bloke at the pub has nothing on him.

As soon as the front door shuts behind them, Matt is on her, slamming her back into the door and kissing her hotly, tongue plundering her mouth. Alex melts into him with a moan, dropping her shopping bags and gripping the belt loops of his tight jeans, tugging him closer. He'd stared intently at her all through lunch with Laura, and then when that man had approached her afterward, Matt had looked ready to punch him. Thankfully he managed to control himself but he's been brusque and tense ever since.

Now, behind closed doors, his kiss is almost violent and his hands are bruising on her hips as he grinds his erection into her. Alex throws her head back against the door and Matt seizes the opportunity to bite his way down the column of her throat, marking her.

It seems dear Matt is a bit possessive. Alex quite likes it.

"What did you do with it?" he asks, practically growling into her throat.

She presses a hand to the back of his head and urges him to continue his ministrations. "What did I do with what?"

"His number," he spits, contemptuous.

Alex smiles faintly, stroking his neck. "Well after you sulked off muttering to yourself, I gave it back to him."

"Really?" Matt kisses her neck a little gentler.

"Mhm. I told him I was married."

He stills against her for a tense moment, lips still pressed to her throat, and she knows he doesn't appreciate the reminder. "Yes," he says softly. "I suppose you are." For a moment, she thinks he might pull away from her and she silently chastises herself for the tart remark, but it seems to have only fueled the fire in Matt because he hoists her up suddenly and she wraps her legs around his waist automatically. He lifts his head and fierce hazel eyes meet hers. Leaning close, he brushes her nose with his own, his lips hovering just over hers. "Sometimes I forget." He licks his lips. "That I'm shagging my stepmother...what would people think?"

She raises her chin, defiant. "I don't give a toss what other people think."

It's a lie and they both know it, but there's no denying by now a little exhibitionism is one of her kinks.

"Oh really," he says, like he knows exactly what she's thinking. He adjusts his hold on her and his hardness is suddenly pressing right against her core through his jeans and her rapidly dampening knickers. She opens her mouth in a silent moan, arching away from the door. "You wouldn't care if anyone found out you're shagging your stepson? That you've sucked him off in his bedroom while your husband slept?" Matt rocks his hips against her and she moans out loud this time. "That you've let him fuck you in almost every room of this house? The kitchen, over the dining room table, even in the pool?"

Alex rolls her hips against his next thrust and his jean clad erection presses right against her clit. They both hiss, clinging to each other and continuing to rock together.

Voice ragged, Matt goes on, "What if he saw us, Alex? What if he walked in while I was inside you, while you were shouting my name to shake the heavens? Does that turn you on, you naughty girl?"

"Oh god," she chokes, moving frantically against him and already so close to the edge without either of them removing a stitch of clothing. Matt grunts into her clavicle and for a moment, she thinks they're both going to come in their pants like horny teenagers but he stops abruptly, face red as he drops her back to her feet and steps away, breathing hard through his nose, jaw clenched tight as he tries to rein himself in.

Everything about his body language tells her to stay away but Alex is too far gone to listen and she reaches for him again, unsatisfied and aching. In her haste, she lunges at him, shoving him into the wall opposite with a thump hard enough to jar them both but neither minds, tongues and teeth clashing as they each fight for dominance. Matt holds her tightly against him and begins to stumble with her toward the stairs. They shed their clothes as they go, a shirt tossed over the banister, a bra abandoned in the corner of the hallway. By the time they reach Matt's bedroom, they're naked, breathless and desperate for each other.

Alex runs her tongue over his nipples, trailing her hands over his chest and down his flat stomach, outlining prominent hipbones with her fingertips until she reaches his erection. Matt moans as she wraps her hand around him, reaching up to cup her breasts in his palms, squeezing and brushing his thumbs across her nipples. She arches into his touch but refuses to let him distract her, pumping his hot length in her fist and dragging her thumb over the tip. She swipes up the wetness gathered there and meets Matt's intent gaze as she lifts her finger to her mouth. He catches her

wrist, however, and redirects her hand, wrapping his mouth around her thumb and sucking it clean.

She whimpers, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him, determined to lick away every trace of his taste from his mouth. Matt presses his hands to her bare back and stumbles with her over to his bed, pushing her onto the mattress and tumbling after her gracelessly. She spreads her legs and he settles between them, licking and biting at her breasts even as his hand dips between her thighs to stroke her.

She's slick and ready for him, and he groans quietly, pressing a finger into her tight heat. "You're so wet, Alex," he whispers and she whinges in acknowledgement, contracting around the invasion of his finger. It isn't enough, not nearly enough.

"More, please," she pleads, spreading her legs wider.

Like the utter tease he is, Matt does the opposite of what she begs for, withdrawing his finger and she wants to cry at the loss. He reaches over to his bedside table, pulling open a drawer and taking out a condom. As he rolls it on, he asks, "What do you want, Alex?"

She bites her lip. "You."

"Just me?"

She hesitates, not because it isn't true but because encouraging his possessiveness probably isn't a good idea. Sensing her reluctance, Matt growls and nips at the curve of her waist. Huffing in frustration and nearly writhing beneath him for his touch, Alex snaps, "Yes. Just you."

His fingers caress her nipples so lightly that it barely even feels like a touch at all and she bites back a whinge. "No one else?"

"That is generally what 'just you' means," she retorts.

He tsks. "So tetchy."

"Wouldn't you be?" She glares up at him. "Just you wait, Matthew. When you're least expecting

it, I'm going to get you so hard you can't even move and then I'm just going to leave you there -"

Alex chokes on the rest of the words as Matt surges forward, his grin infuriatingly smug. She's positively dripping now and he slides in smoothly, buried to the hilt and she tosses her head back, letting out a sob of relief at finally being filled. They slide against each other with easy familiarity that shouldn't be there, and she relishes the feel of his cool skin caressing her overheated body.

"Alex," he says breathlessly into her neck. "So incredible, love. No one else…" She clenches around him and he swears, pumping his hips furiously.

Within minutes, their bodies are sweat-slicked and their chests heaving with exertion. They're already so wound up that she knows it won't take long. With every lift of his hips over hers, Matt's abdomen strikes against her neglected clit and she moans, raking her nails across his back. He hisses, lifting her legs over his shoulders and bending her in half. When he moves again, the new angle drives him deeper inside her than before and her head slams against the headboard as she gasps, "Oh yes, there." Matt latches his mouth onto her neck and thrusts wildly. The headboard hits the wall repeatedly as they rock together, both too lost in each other to pay the sound any mind.

Her leg muscles are burning but it's nothing compared to the familiar burn swelling in her abdomen. "So close darling, harder."

He surges forward with renewed vigor and her head smacks against the headboard again. Heedless of the pain, she slips her hand between her legs and presses down hard on her swollen clit, rubbing frantically. She's teetering on the brink and when Matt leans down, capturing her lips with his, she clenches around him, coming so hard she cries out into his mouth. Before her swimming vision can clear, he breaks their kiss and sinks his teeth into the swell of her breast as he comes, hips twitching twice more before he stills, collapsing against her breathlessly.

Drawing in large gulps of air, Alex runs her fingers through his sweat-damp hair and settles further into the nest of pillows on his bed as Matt helps her slide her legs from his shoulders. The muscles in her thighs ache pleasantly and she stretches out, feeling and probably looking thoroughly shagged. It's so cliché to smoke after sex but as Matt moves off her body and settles in beside her, getting rid of the condom before slinging an arm around her waist, she longs for a drag. She just doesn't have the energy to get up and get one.

"I meant it, you know," he mumbles after a while, sounding half asleep.

Alex is beginning to feel a bit drowsy too and she asks blearily, "What?"

"Don't want anyone else but you."

It reminds her of the meadow and of the words he'd spoken there. She'd hoped he hadn't meant it but to say it twice…Telling herself it's just the afterglow talking, Alex forces herself to relax in the curve of Matt's arm and doesn't respond. He trails his fingers up and down her back in a light caress and her eyes begin to drift shut.

The ringing of Matt's mobile outside his room - probably with the pile of clothes in the hall - jars her from her half-slumber and she starts to sit up but Matt shushes her, urging her to lie back down. Lulled by his soft touch and the murmur of his voice, Alex presses her face into his pillow and breathes in his scent. Matt pulls the sheet over her and kisses her head before padding off to find his phone. Wrapped up in his familiar smell and blissfully tired, Alex is asleep in seconds.

I know you get me so I let my walls come down

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Katy Perry's Teenage Dream

Matt finds his phone in his trouser pocket just down the hallway and he manages to fish it out before whoever it is stops calling. "Hello?" Tucking his phone between his ear and his shoulder, he begins pulling on his trousers, tugging them up his legs but not bothering to button them.

"Okay. What's going on with you?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair and leaning against the wall. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Laura scoffs. "Please. I saw your face when Alex tried on that dress and I seriously thought I was going to have to bail you out of the nick for a pub brawl when that bloke was hitting her up. And on top of that, you kept watching her during lunch like you'd rather be eating her instead. I'm going to have nightmares for weeks! You like her."

There is no point in lying to his sister. She knows him far too well and she can always tell when he's lying to her. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sighs. "What of it?"

Laura makes a triumphant noise in the back of her throat and then immediately turns serious again, her voice pleading. "Just please tell me you're not going to do anything stupid."

"I'm not going to do anything stupid," he reiterates dully.

I already have.

"Liar." Even when they were kids, Laura could always see right through him. He never got away with anything around her. "God Matty, what the hell are you thinking? Crushing on your own stepmother? Freud would have a field day!"

"Bloody hell, Laura," he snaps. "Have you seen the woman? You can hardly blame me for being attracted to her. And you already know how fantastic she is."

"Of course I know. She's beautiful and a lovely person but I don't want to bloody well shag her!" Laura sighs and he hates that he's causing her stress – he worried her enough as a teenager. "Just promise me you won't take it any further than a crush. Please. This family is fucked up enough as it is."

He swallows. "I can't promise you that."

"Matt."

Frustrated, he shoves off the wall and begins to pace the length of the hallway, doing his best to keep his voice down so as not to wake Alex. "So what if I do want her? What does it matter in the long run? He'll be divorcing her by the end of the year and you know it!"

"But she's still your stepmother!" Laura insists, incredulous. "And our father is shagging her, for God's sake. Doesn't that squick you out even a bit?"

He clenches his jaw, pausing in the middle of the hallway. "They're not…Alex isn't sleeping with him right now."

Skeptical, Laura asks, "And how would you know that?"

Matt says nothing, biting his lip.

Finally, she gets it and gasps. "Oh my god. Please tell me you're not."

He remains silent; worrying his lip so hard he's on the verge of drawing blood.

"Matt. Tell me this minute that you are not shagging our bloody stepmother."

He frowns. "It's not shagging. Well, not just that. I…I care about her, Lor."

She groans and he hears a thud like she just banged her head against a hard surface. "I cannot believe this is actually happening. You have finally lost the plot. I knew it would happen but oh my god, I never thought it would be quite so extreme. I thought maybe you'd just actually marry the Slag or I don't know, live out in the woods and knit horrible jumpers in exchange for money. It never occurred to me that you'd resort to having sex with your father's bloody wife!"

He huffs, gripping the phone to his ear and wincing at her shrill tone. "Lor, would you calm down and listen to me for a minute?"

"And Alex!" Laura shouts. "I cannot believe that Alex is doing this to dad -"

"Stop it, Lor," he says, voice hard and his sister quiets immediately. "Nothing happened between us until after Alex found out he lied to her about all his other wives. And she found out he's seeing someone else. Cynthia from his office."

"Already?" Laura sighs, and he hears the faint tremble in her voice. "God, he's never going to change, is he?"

Matt shakes his head and leans against the wall again, sliding down to the floor and drawing his knees up to his chest. "It's over between them."

"Then why is she still living there?"

"Because right now she has nowhere else to go. She left her job to be with him."

"Bastard."

He hums his agreement and tilts his head back, continuing softly, "I could treat her so much better than he can, Lor. She deserves more than him and I can give that to her."

"Matt," Laura starts gently and he prepares himself for a lecture. "This is crazy. Would you just think about what you're doing? This is not the way to start off a real relationship. It's twisted!"

"It's not," he insists. "Did I ever tell you how we met?"

"When you came to visit, obviously."

"No," he smiles. "I met her in the supermarket before I even showed up here. We were both looking at the flowers and the second she touched my hand when we were reaching for the same bouquet, I knew. I didn't know her name or who she was to me but I knew she was important. Just because I found out later she was my new stepmother didn't change the way I felt."

After a moment of silence in which Matt waits nervously and pokes a finger through a hole in his jeans, Laura finally makes an irritated noise that says he's getting through to her and she doesn't like it one bit. "Okay. Fine. Let's just say you're bloody head over heels for her, all right? And maybe you are. Maybe you're going to want her for the rest of your life. And I know you, Matt, when you fall, you fall hard. But what about Alex? What makes you think she's going to feel the same way? She's twice your age and far more mature than you -"

"Oi!"

Laura ignores him. "You're a struggling actor, darling, and she's a painter. What sort of stability could you provide when she's got a daughter to look after?" Matt has nothing to say to that and Laura sighs quietly. "I just don't want you to get hurt or ruin what little relationship you have with dad over something that won't last."

He hates it when his sister talks sense. She always makes him feel like such a child. But he refuses to believe this thing with Alex won't last. They're perfect together and the past weeks have proven that. They get along brilliantly, they have fun together and they actually talk about things that matter. And the sex is amazing. What they have is more than Laura is making it out to be. Alex wants to be with him just as much as Matt wants to be with her – no one else, she'd said. It'll last. It has to.

Clearing his throat, he says, "I can't walk away. Whatever happens, I'm in this too far now." He swallows around the lump in his throat, thinking of Alex fast sleep in his bed. "She means too much to me."

"Okay," Laura says softly. "Thank you for at least being honest with me. I just wanted you to know how I felt."

"I know."

"And I want you to know that even though I think you're mad, I'm still here for you. And Alex." She blows out a quiet breath. "I hope she does feel the same about you, Matty. She's told me things about her past and I just…she deserves someone like you. Someone who'll be good to her. And you deserve better than what you've got waiting for you in London."

Matt chokes out a laugh, feeling tears well in his eyes. He rubs them furiously with his free hand and says, "Thanks, Lor. I love you."

"I love you too, idiot," she says. "Just be careful."

He hangs up with his sister but he doesn't move from his spot on the floor for a long while, staring at the opposite wall and playing over their conversation in his head until he feels dizzy trying to understand what the right thing is anymore.

Eventually, he gets up and pads back to his bedroom, picking up their discarded clothes as he goes. He puts his mobile on the bedside table and sheds his trousers again, crawling beneath the sheets with a still slumbering Alex, pressing his naked skin against hers. She makes a soft sound in her sleep and snuggles into him, curling around his body and slipping a leg over his.

Holding her close, Matt lies awake watching her sleep until it's time for David to come home from the office, Laura's words still echoing in his head.

He tries not to think about his conversation with his sister in the coming days, forcing it from his mind and focusing instead on the time he gets to spend with Alex before he has to go back to London and face his life again. David leaves town for a few days and while he says he has a business conference to attend, Matt can't help but suspect that his trip has more to do with Cynthia than business. And if the way Alex stands at the front door, watching him drive away with her arms crossed and her jaw set is any indication, then she thinks so too.

She turns to him the moment David's car disappears, smiling faintly. "Looks like we're on our own for a while. What should we do?"

He smiles and settles against the doorframe next to her. "Rent a bouncy house? Prank call Laura? Bake cookies and don't clean up after ourselves? Slumber party?"

"Oh god, I'm sleeping with a twelve year old," she laughs and he leans in to press his lips to hers briefly, grinning. "Although, I certainly wouldn't mind a three day long slumber party with you, dear."

And that's when it hits him. David is going to be gone for three days. Three days in which Matt will have Alex all to himself, not just from six in the morning until five o'clock in the evening when David arrives from the office. They'll sleep all night in the same bed; wake up next to each other in the morning. It's almost everything he wants with Alex and though it's just for a short time, he's suddenly determined to make the most of it.

Slipping an arm around her waist, he draws her close and says, "And will you wear your prettiest nightgown for me?"

She nods, smiling up at him. "We'll have pillow fights and play Truth or Dare."

He snorts. "I think I'd much rather play a very crude version of Hide and Seek, if you don't mind."

"Oh that's terrible," she laughs, slipping from his grasp. "Really. You deserve an award for that one."

"Oh come on," he says, shutting the front door and trailing after her as she strides from the room. "It wasn't that bad. In fact, I think you've -"

A pillow smacking him squarely in the face cuts him off midsentence and he blinks in surprise as Alex giggles and bites her lip. "Did you just hit me with a pillow?"

"It would seem so," she says, looking unrepentant.

"And you call me twelve," he mutters, before lurching forward to snatch up his own pillow from the sofa. "Alright, Kingston. You asked for it."

Alex shrieks as he starts after her, and still clutching her pillow, she runs from the room and into the kitchen, laughing. He chases her around the island in the kitchen, around the dining room

table, up the stairs and down the corridor. He finally catches up with her in her bedroom, where she tosses the pillow aside, falls back onto the bed and declares her surrender.

Matt drops his own pillow and pounces on her, kissing her eagerly. Alex sighs into his mouth and wraps her arms around his neck, her contentedness evident. He can't help but feel like she planned it this way all along.

Not that he's complaining.

When he wakes in the morning, Alex is there. Curled up around him in his bed, her curls wild and her mouth slightly open. Her hand rests on the pillow next to her cheek, fingers curled in just so, and as Matt watches her breathe steadily in the weak morning light, he thinks he could wake up like this for the rest of his life and never need anything else.

Unwilling to get up just yet despite his empty stomach, he slides closer to Alex and slips an arm around her waist, dropping a kiss into her hair and closing his eyes again. She murmurs faintly, stirring in his arms, before settling against him again with a soft sigh. Matt falls asleep with a grin on his face.

The second time he wakes up that morning, Alex is gone. He frowns sleepily at the empty half of the bed until he hears the clatter of rattling pans in the kitchen downstairs. Matt jumps out of bed immediately at the racket because as much as he adores Alex, he doesn't want her left alone in the kitchen.

He pulls on a pair of boxers and takes the stairs two at a time, skidding into the kitchen to find Alex cracking eggs over the stove, her curls piled on top of her head and a sheer robe the only thing covering all that perfect skin he spent last night running his hands over.

When she spots him, she looks up with a smile. "Good morning, dear."

Inching into the room cautiously, he looks around scanning for damage. "What are you doing?"

As if detecting the suspicion in his voice, she rolls her eyes and cracks another egg over the pan. "I'm not totally useless, you know. I can make eggs and put bread in the toaster."

He shrugs, sidling up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She leans into him and he rests his chin on her shoulder, watching her work. "Of course you're not useless. I just can't help the terror that comes over me when I realize you're in the kitchen without adult supervision."

Alex gasps and elbows him and he just manages to dodge the blow, releasing her waist and dancing backward. "You are a prick, Matthew. And for that you will starve."

He puts a hand to his chest, wounded. "You'd starve your own stepson?"

"They don't call them wicked stepmothers for nothing," she says, glancing at him over her shoulder with a smirk. "No mercy, darling."

Matt risks her wrath by approaching her again, wrapping an arm around her and slipping his hand beneath her robe. "Mm, you are very wicked." He slides his palm up her smooth stomach, enjoying the way her breath hitches as his fingers brush her bare breasts. "Good thing I like bad girls," he whispers.

Alex shivers, eyes fluttering shut briefly before she gathers herself and swats him away with a spatula. "Stop distracting me and set the table."

"Does that mean I'm permitted to eat now?" He asks wryly, moving to do as she asks.

"Only if you finish your eggs first," she says glibly, throwing a wink over her shoulder that is purely naughty.

Matt chokes and almost drops the silverware.

He doesn't remember ever scarfing down food so quickly in his life.

Alex spends the afternoon puttering about in the back garden, dressed in cutoff shorts and one of Matt's t-shirts. He'd tried to convince her that gardening could be clothing optional but even his

impressive powers of persuasion weren't enough to convince her to traipse about in her rosebushes naked.

On her hands and knees, she pulls weeds from the flowerbed while Matt sits behind her and doesn't even try to pretend he isn't staring at her arse. She can't find it in herself to feel anything other than secretly pleased and considering she'd banned him from touching her flowers after he fell into a clustering of peonies, she supposes he needs something to occupy his time.

Bless him, she's never seen anyone quite so lacking in a green thumb before. She doesn't even know how he has managed to keep himself alive; making him responsible for a plant would just be negligence. He does seem to enjoy digging about in the dirt though, so she uses him when she needs to plant something and gives him a garden shovel to muck about with when she doesn't.

"Alex?"

"Mm?"

"I'm bored."

She rolls her eyes, swiping her hair from her eyes with the back of her hand and probably smearing dirt across her face in the process. "No one is making you sit out here, dear."

"I know," he says, sounding reluctant and adorably shy. "I like being with you. I just wish you would do something less boring to watch."

"You mean my arse isn't entertaining enough for you anymore?" She snorts.

"I had to stop watching," he grumbles. "It was giving me a…problem."

Alex bites back a laugh, turning to look over her shoulder at his sullen face as he sprawls across the ground. "Poor darling, having to lie there in the sun and do sod all. It must be so hard, oops sorry, difficult for you."

He raises his head from the grass long enough to glare at her. "Whoever said you were funny was lying to you, Kingston. You're a horrible wench and I don't know what I see in you."

Standing up, she dusts herself off and drops her gardening tools back into their basket. Smirking down at him, she says, "What a shame. I suppose I'll have to find someone else to help me scrub off all this dirt in the shower."

Without giving him a chance to respond, she steps over his inert form and starts walking toward the house. When she hears Matt scrambling to get to his feet and follow after her, she smiles and holds out her hand, waiting for him to take it.

They sit on the back steps that night and smoke David's cigars, leaning against each other and alternating between watching the stars and trying to judge who is better at blowing out smoke rings. It's a quiet night, the sort where only the sound of the wind through the trees and crickets can be heard. Normally, it's quite peaceful to listen to but tonight the quiet only gives her time to think.

After tomorrow, David will come home again and things will go back to the way they were. Alex just wishes they could stay like this forever, this small little bubble she and Matt have made for themselves where no one will bother them or judge them. She laughs more in this little world they've created, she feels like someone cares about her. Like she's more than just the newest wife. Matt has always made her feel like she's more than she is.

"I got a call today."

Head on Matt's shoulder, Alex flicks the ash off her cigar and tilts her face up to look at him. "What sort of call?"

He licks his lips nervously. "From my agent. About a job."

Smiling brightly, she reaches up a hand and strokes his cheek. "That's brilliant, darling! Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Shrugging, he turns his cheek into her touch like a cat begging for attention. "It's a television show. The part is…" He trails off, eyes bright. "The part is amazing. I mean, it's just an audition and the chances of me actually getting it are slim to none but -"

Alex promptly sticks her cigar in his mouth to shut him up and straightens, taking his hand in hers and looking him in the eye. "Stop that. You're brilliant and talented and whatever the part is, they'd be damned lucky to have you play it, alright?"

He nods, frowning around the cigar in his mouth.

She smiles. "Good. Now be a good boy and go get the champagne so we can celebrate."

Matt whips the cigar from his mouth and stubs it out before tucking it behind his ear. "I haven't got the part yet, Kingston. Aren't you jumping the gun?"

"We're celebrating your audition," she says with a roll of her eyes. "If you get the part, the celebration will be much more private."

He grins, somehow managing to look adorably eager and still sexy enough to send heat pooling to her stomach – it's a strictly Matt talent that no one else could ever pull off. She licks her suddenly dry lips and leans in close, brushing her mouth against his and smiling when he wraps her in his arms and pulls her closer.

"Now," she murmurs against his lips. "Champagne please, darling."

Kissing her again quickly, Matt jumps to his feet and climbs the steps to the house, disappearing inside. Alex sighs and leans back against the stone steps, hands behind her head as she stares up into the night sky.

Her husband is coming home after tomorrow, but as she waits for Matt to return with that smile and a kiss, Alex finds that she really really wishes he wasn't.

It's the last day before David comes home. Matt had held Alex through the night; a possessive arm around her waist, knowing it would be a long time before he could fall asleep with her like that again. He's going to miss it – waking up in the middle of the night and looking over to see her face. He knows his bed is going to be infinitely lonely without her warm body curled against his beneath the sheets.

He makes sure they spend the morning lying in bed and doing nothing but exchanging kisses and talking, but by mid-morning, he makes the mistake of drifting off to sleep again. When he wakes up, it's afternoon and Alex is gone.

The blankets are tucked in around him and she'd written in ink on the back of his hand 'in studio, xx'. Rolling his eyes, Matt stares at her handwriting on his skin and admires the way it still manages to look neat despite its canvas.

Kicking the blankets away, he throws his feet over the side of the bed and stands, stretching. He roots around on the floor for some clothes to pull on and finally decides to just yank on his jeans since his boxers and shirt are missing – he has a feeling the culprit is currently painting in her studio and probably not sorry at all for her petty theft.

He pads down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing an orange from the counter before heading into the backyard. Peeling it as he walks, he steps through the dewy grass, enjoying the cold beneath his bare feet as he makes his way to the old building that used to be nothing but storage.

Climbing the rickety stairs, he pauses just outside the door and peers through the slightly smudged glass, glimpsing Alex standing in front of a broad canvas, her paintbrush in her mouth and her attention entirely focused on her work. He loves watching her work – she gets in this mode where nothing else registers. He could sit next to her and describe in filthy detail exactly what he wanted to do to her and she wouldn't even blink – he knows because he'd tried it. It's a focus that he both admires and is slightly jealous of; he doesn't think Alex has ever concentrated on him quite the way she does a new painting.

From his spot just outside the door, he can see what she's working on. It's the meadow. Looking closer, he sees gray, overcast skies heavy with the promise of rain and knows that she's painting the meadow on a very particular, special day. The first time they made love.

Warmth blooming in his chest, Matt pops an orange slice into his mouth and raps his knuckles once against the glass pane to get her attention, opening the door as she turns to him, paintbrush still held between her teeth. As he steps inside the room, he can't help but notice the pot of sweetpeas on her windowsill, soft pink and overflowing. She'd kept them.

He doesn't know why, but it makes him beam as he turns his attention back to her. Hair pulled back away from her face, Alex is wearing his boxers and button down shirt; though she hadn't bothered buttoning it up and he can see the flat plane of her stomach and the fullness of her breasts. He swallows hard and clamps down on the urge to touch her – she probably wouldn't appreciate the distraction from her work.

Mumbling around her paintbrush, she asks, "Got my message then?"

He holds up his hand, showing her that he hadn't even bothered to wash the ink off. "Only wish I could have been awake. Writing on me like that – must have been the most attention I've ever gotten from you."

She laughs, tucking her paintbrush behind her ear. "Jealous?"

He quirks an eyebrow and looks at her through his fringe. "If I am?"

Her smile turns predatory. "Well then…want to be my canvas, darling?"

Thinking of Alex giving him that same concentrated look she gives her artwork, sliding a brush cold with fresh paint across his naked skin, Matt shudders. He nods, mouth dry.

She smirks, walking across the room and pulling a white sheet from an armchair in the corner. Spreading it out on the floor in front of her easel, she says, "Take off your trousers and lie down, then."

Trying not to show just how eager he is, Matt puts aside the remainder of his orange and sheds his jeans, tossing them aside before dropping down to the sheet and lying back. He watches as Alex walks around the room, collecting supplies. She empties a few tubes of paint onto a palette – a deep red, a dark blue, and a rusty orange. She leaves her paintbrush behind her ear and grabs another, setting it all down on the sheet next to him. Then, he watches with rapt attention as she slides his boxers down her legs and kicks them away, leaving her in his open button down shirt.

Rolling up the sleeves, she kneels next to him and busies herself with selecting a paint color and dipping her brush in it. She hums quietly under her breath and Matt is suddenly struck with how beautiful she is. He's always known it, of course. From the second he'd met her, he'd known. But now, here in her element and looking at him like he's a particularly interesting blank canvas, she has never been lovelier.

First, she traces her brush over his collarbones in a blue the color of the night sky and he inhales sharply at the shock of cold paint on his skin, goosebumps prickling his flesh. She distracts him with the sound of her voice, soft and mesmerizing. "I've never had a space this big to paint in before. An entire room for nothing but art."

He watches her purse her lips, drawing a line down his chest and stomach. "Where did you paint? Before you married my father?"

She smiles faintly as she reaches the top of his groin and he feels her beginning to write something but no matter which way he turns his head, he can't quite make out the letters. "I used to spread out my supplies on the living room floor of this tiny apartment I stayed in with my daughter."

Moving away to admire her work so far, tongue caught between her teeth, Alex hums thoughtfully. Finally getting a clear view, Matt reads the word upside down. Mine.

He suppresses a shiver of agreement and rasps out, "Must have been difficult, trying to get anything done that way."

She nods, beginning to sketch out his ribs in a shade of orange that reminds him of leaves in autumn. "It certainly sapped the creativity," she agrees quietly. "It was one of the reasons I was so eager to leave the city and live here with David. I'd never had a studio before, and it appealed to me."

He raises an eyebrow. "Alex, did you marry my father so you'd have somewhere to paint?"

"No," she laughs, and uses the dark red to paint a pair of lips on his chest, just over his heart. "I'd already agreed to marry him by the time he mentioned I would have a studio."

They're quiet after that, Alex too focused on her work and Matt too entranced watching her to speak. She draws swirling patterns on his hipbones and snatches of poetry down the length of his arms in the same deep red as the lips she'd painted. She uses the rusty orange to paint a heart on the sole of his foot, grinning when he laughs as it tickles.

She paints constellations, dotting his whole left side with stars in deep blue. Some of the paint is beginning to dry on his skin, leaving it feeling strangely but not unpleasantly tight. He likes it – Alex marking him, making him her own personal work of art.

Spreading his legs, she settles between them and writes something on the inside of his thigh. The entire process has been unbelievably arousing and he's had an erection since almost the start. He squirms a bit uncomfortably, part of him wishing she would just stroke him with her palm. She doesn't though, and Matt strains to see her curling script, but when he does, the word is in what

looks like German - Geliebte. "What does it mean?" He asks quietly, feeling a little regret for breaking the peaceful silence between them.

Alex pauses, green eyes lifting to meet his, dark ringlets framing her face. "Beloved," she whispers, and his breath catches.

"Alex…"

Licking her lips, she says, "Give me your hands." He holds them out automatically, and she uses her paintbrush to coat the palms of each of his hands in dark blue. She discards his shirt, leaving her entirely naked and he takes in the sight greedily. "Touch me."

His hands are on her instantly, smearing paint over her stomach and up her chest. He leaves handprints on her breasts, the marks of his fingers against the delicate skin of her throat and down her arms. Alex leans into his touches like a woman starved, looking down at him like he's the most important thing in her world – her finest masterpiece.

He pulls her down to him, brushing his lips softly over hers at first and then harder, plundering her mouth with his tongue. While she's distracted, cupping his face in her hands and moaning into his mouth, Matt reaches for the paintbrush behind her ear. She doesn't even notice and he slips his hand down between their bodies, sliding his fingers over her wet, swollen flesh.

She bites down on his bottom lip, whimpering softly and bucking into his hand. He grins against her mouth and pushes the handle of the paintbrush inside her. Alex gasps, her hands moving to find purchase on his shoulders as he works it inside her.

"Oh god," she breathes against his neck, her hips moving in time with his thrusts. "Darling…"

Matt uses his free hand to tuck curls behind her ears, rubbing his thumb over her cheekbone. "So beautiful," he says, and tilts the brush inside her just so, and it simultaneously pushes against that wonderful spot that makes her cry out, and brushes across her clit. Alex moans and shudders, clenching around the paintbrush.

Panting, she raises herself up and takes his wrist, guiding the brush from inside her and then tossing it away. She scrambles away from him and crawls to his discarded trousers, pulling a condom from the back pocket before moving back over him. With careful, deliberate movements, she rolls the condom on, her eyes on his. Then, bending to kiss him, she sinks down on his erection with a soft cry. He groans, his hands flying to her hips as her body envelopes him, searing

heat that still spasms around him from her last orgasm.

She runs her hands over his chest, smearing paint in her wake as she moves slowly above him. She pauses just long enough to press her mouth over the pair of lips she'd drawn over his heart, leaving a kiss there. Her body covered in blue fingerprints – his fingerprints – Alex looks gorgeous, like some strange metaphor about the artist and the art, although he's too distracted to fully formulate the idea by the way her breasts bounce as she rides him.

Her hands are speckled with paint and she gets it in his hair as she runs her fingers through it but Matt couldn't care less, lost in the way she feels, in the way she looks at him and how her body wraps around his cock – soaking and hot – every time she sinks down on him.

Head tilted back and her hands on his chest as she rocks against him, Alex murmurs the poem she'd written earlier, and it's like she's embedding the words on his mind, searing them there like a brand – the way she'd written them on his skin. Long after the paint has been washed away, he'll still have the words in his head and he'll remember this. His gorgeous Alex and the fire in her eyes as she'd looked at him, rolling her hips and moaning between every other word that escapes from her lips – his own goddess marked in blue fingerprints.

She curls her fingers against his ribs as she comes, crying out while she trembles around him. She doesn't stop moving, sprawling across his chest and dragging herself up and down the length of his cock, her pace slow and unhurried. She runs her hands up and down his sides, catching his earlobe between her teeth and nibbling briefly. Matt can feel his orgasm approaching, drawing up his testicles and tightening everything within him until the room starts to spin and his only point of focus is the slide of Alex's cunt around him.

Then, she releases his earlobe and whispers the last words of the poem, breathing them hotly against his skin, "He'll not my tower, laborious, casual where the surrounded smile hangs-" She licks a stripe along his throat " – breathless."

He comes with a shout, his hands knotted in her hair and her smile smug against his neck. It takes him a while to get his bearings but Alex is patient, lying across his heaving chest and planting stray kisses wherever she can reach. Their skin sticks together in the mess of paint they've made and Matt has never loved art more.

"Can I always be your canvas?" He finally asks, and she giggles, raising her head to kiss his chin.

"I would love that, darling," she says quietly. "But it would be rather difficult to take you to galleries and show you off. Besides, I prefer that you remain in my…private collection."

Matt snorts, wrapping his arms around her and leaning up to brush his lips over hers as he remembers what she'd written across his skin earlier.

Mine.

Yes. He likes that.

You take your heart and walk away

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from The Mess I Made by Parachute.

They walk hand in hand back to the house, covered in paint and grinning at each other. Stumbling up the stairs and down the hall to the bathroom with their mouths attached isn't easy but they manage. In the shower, they scrub each other clean of paint and Alex is a little sad to see all her work sliding off Matt's body and pooling at their feet in a mixture of red, blue and orange.

She watches it swirl around the drain before disappearing in the flood of shower water and presses her lips to Matt's newly clean skin, sliding her hands up his slick back and telling herself that it doesn't matter. All visible traces of the things she'd written are gone, but the memory will always linger.

When she hears her mobile ringing over the sound of the shower, Alex slips from Matt's arms and leaves him to scrub the paint out of his hair. He snags her wrist, trying to pull her back with him under the spray. "Don't answer it," he says, kissing her neck.

"It might be Salome, darling," she says, wriggling from his grasp again. "I can't miss her call. They're few and far between as it is."

"Fine," he grumbles, giving her a little smile when she kisses his cheek. She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself, dripping water everywhere as she scurries from the bathroom to pick up her ringing phone. "But if it isn't, I expect you to come back here and help me. The last thing I need is David wondering why there are streaks of blue all through my hair!"

"You murdered a smurf and it put up a fight," she calls back, giggling. Alex finds her phone on the bedside table and picks it up, checking the screen. Salome. Smiling widely, she pushes wet curls over her shoulder and answers it, pressing the phone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Mom!"

She frowns into the phone. "I'm sorry, do I know you? I vaguely remember a little girl who used to call me by that name, but I haven't heard from her in ages."

Salome giggles. "Mo-om. It's me."

"What was her name?" She continues, pretending to think. "Oh goodness, it's just on the tip of my tongue. Sally? No. Salmon?"

"Salome!"

"Oh," Alex laughs, warmth filling her chest at the sound of her daughter's amusement in her ear. "Salome. Yes, I remember now. My beautiful little girl – it's been so long I barely recognized you. You sound terribly grownup."

"I am," she says solemnly. "Had a beer with lunch and everything."

Alex snorts. "Very funny, young lady. How's camp life treating you? Killed a bear with your bare hands yet?"

"No, that's on Tuesday."

"Ah." Alex grins widely, so overwhelmed with happiness to be talking to her daughter that she can't seem to control her own facial expressions. "Well have you at least been swimming in shark-infested waters? I hate to think of all your father's hard earned money going to waste."

There's a beat of silence, and then she hears the unmistakable sound of sniffling.

Alarmed, Alex grips her phone tighter and asks, "Salome, darling? What's the matter? Are you hurt?"

"No," she answers, voice watery. "Just homesick."

Relieved that it isn't something more serious, yet aching for her little girl, Alex sighs. "Well, sweetheart, if it's that bad, you should call your father and tell him to come get you."

"No mommy," she says, and it's been so long since Salome called her that. It makes Alex's chest ache and she rubs at her sternum with her free hand. "I mean homesick for you."

"Oh darling," Alex breathes, tears filling her eyes. "I miss you too. So very much."

"I want to stay with you."

Alex swallows. "For the rest of the summer?"

"No…"

She doesn't dare even breathe, clutching her phone tightly until her knuckles turn white with the strain. "How long, Salome?"

She sniffles. "Could…could you and dad switch? I could stay with him in the summer and be with you all the rest?"

Alex wants to jump up and down, she wants to laugh and dance and stick her tongue out at Florian and hope he senses it even an ocean apart. Instead, she clears her throat and replies like an adult. "That's a big decision, Salome. And it can't be easily undone. Are you absolutely sure? You'd have to live here, go to school here, and leave your friends. Is that something you're willing to do?"

There's a brief pause and Alex sinks down onto the bed, heedless of the water soaking through the sheets as she closes her eyes and wills the answer to be yes. Please, please say yes. I'll never ask for anything else ever again.

"I'm sure."

Alex opens her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks as she beams. "Then I would love to have you here, sweetheart. Nothing would make me happier. I'm a bit lost without you, I'm afraid."

"Me too," Salome says, sounding a bit cheerier now that Alex has agreed. "Dad doesn't do the voices in the stories like you do. And his girlfriend is a worse cook than you are."

"Oi, you cheeky little heathen," Alex laughs. "Not even here yet and already on my case."

Salome giggles and Alex lies back on the bed, grinning and suddenly euphorically happy. Her little girl is going to come home.

They talk for a while longer, Salome agreeing to tell her father the decision she's made, and then Florian will call her about arranging the legal details. She tells her daughter how much she loves her and Salome blows a kiss through the phone before they hang up.

It doesn't hit Alex until she hears the shower turn off in the bathroom, and she sits up, drawing her towel tighter around her. She can't stay here. She can't bring her daughter into this house – with a man who doesn't love her and doesn't plan on keeping her around. She has to leave, find her own place, and get a job so she can support her child.

This changes everything.

Alex drops her towel and finds some clothes to put on, mind racing as she listens to Matt hum in the other room. She'll have to start on the divorce paperwork as soon as she can, and in the meantime, if she wants to walk away with any of David's money, she's going to have to prove he violated the fidelity clause in their prenuptial agreement. It shouldn't be too difficult, and Alex could walk away with half of everything.

But there's another problem now, one she isn't quite ready to face even as said problem strolls out of the en suite bathroom in a towel, his damp hair all over the place as he grins at her. "Do you see any more paint?" He asks, bending his head a little. "I think I got it all, but I can't tell."

With suddenly trembling fingers, Alex reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair. "I don't see anything," she says, voice shaking.

Matt catches it and looks up sharply, eyes concerned. "Alex? You alright, love?"

She nods but when he wraps his arms around her, she clings to him and shuts her eyes because this thing between them can't go on any longer. Salome is coming to be with her and she can't carry on an affair with a man half her age, no matter how much she cares about him.

Nothing in her life is more important than her daughter, and providing a stable environment for her can't include the stepson she's been sleeping with. She'll have to let him go – in spite of how much it's going to hurt them both. Alex presses her lips to Matt's bare chest and tells herself that it would never have lasted anyway.

David is pulling up in the driveway forty -five minutes later, and she extricates herself from Matt's arms where they sit together on the sofa, her eyes scanning the room quickly to make sure nothing gives away the fact that they've been shagging like rabbits in every room of the house while he's been gone.

Seeing nothing, she relaxes and goes to the door to greet him, shooting Matt one last longing look. If she'd known these last few days with him were her last, she would have paid more attention, clung to him a little tighter at night. Let him eat those Jammie Dodgers in bed.

She forces a smile as David strides up the walkway with his suitcase, knowing she won't have to endure him much longer. Just until she has the evidence she'll need. It makes it easier to accept the kiss he bestows on her and she tries not to think of Matt watching them as she accompanies David up the stairs to help him unpack.

David tosses his suitcase onto the bed, digs out his bag of toiletries and crosses to the bathroom to unpack them, all without a word. It isn't even about how distant Alex had been from him before he left, how they lie in bed next to each other every night and don't touch – not that David doesn't try, but Alex is quick to rebuff him, either feigning a headache or pretending she has some things to work on in her studio and she'll be along later. She always sits outside smoking until she's sure he's asleep. The silence between them now isn't even about David not calling once for the three days he'd been gone.

They simply don't have anything to say to each other.

That all changes as Alex sorts through her husband's things, placing the dirty clothes in one pile to be washed later and forming another pile with things like pens, his laptop, unused socks and files from the office that he probably hadn't opened once. The suitcase is nearly empty when she spots it. Tucked away in a corner, entwined with a crumpled tie, is a silk scarf. Feminine, with a bold flower pattern, it definitely isn't David's – unless he's hiding a fondness of women's clothes along with everything else.

Nose scrunched, Alex picks up the scrap of silk between her thumb and forefinger, holding it out as David exits the bathroom. She turns to him, eyebrow raised, and the minute he sees the scarf, he stops dead in his tracks.

"Care to explain?"

He frowns. "Where'd you get that?"

"I was unpacking your suitcase," she says, still holding the offending item up between them with distaste. "Found it at the bottom."

After a moment, he huffs. "Well, do you like it?"

"Like it?" If possible, her eyebrow climbs even higher.

David nods. "I picked that up at a little boutique for you. I thought you'd make it look beautiful."

Oh, he was good.

If Alex didn't already know what a lying prick she married, she might have been swayed. But Matt had shown her his true colors and there is no forgetting that desk full of photographs and marriage licenses, or the way he'd flirted blatantly with another woman right in front of her at a business party.

Eyes narrowing, Alex puts one hand on her cocked hip. "Really? You bought it for me?"

David nods, smiling.

"Then why does it smell like some other woman's cheap perfume?" Alex drops the scarf and it flutters to the floor at their feet. She resists the urge to stomp on it.

His smile falters around the edges, just a little. If Alex hadn't been watching closely, she might have missed it. "Because the boutique where I bought it was secondhand. The woman who worked there said it was made in the 1950's – probably belonged to some sweet little old lady."

Oh, he was very good.

She nods slowly, pursing her lips. "So it doesn't have anything to do with the woman you spent your three day "business trip" with?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Whom, dear," she says. "It isn't polite to refer to your mistress as a 'what'."

David stares, unblinking. "I don't have a mistress, Alex."

"Oh, do you call her something else?" She taps her finger against her chin, frowning. "I want to say 'trollop' but I don't think that's right. Princess Ride-My-Way-To-The-Top-Of-The-Corporate-Ladder?" She shrugs, waving her hand. "Well anyway, you know the one I'm referring to. Unless there are several."

David is gaping at her and Alex takes a moment to appreciate the look on his face, fighting back a smile. She'd never be so flippant if she really cared. If she'd found that scarf in the beginning of their marriage, she would have either ignored it out of fear or burst into tears but things have changed and she doesn't feel like the old Alex, weak and insecure when it comes to her relationships. She realizes with a pang that it probably has something to do with Matt, and how wanted he always makes her feel. Like she's worth something.

Finally, David snaps his mouth shut and scowls at her, cheeks reddening. "Who the hell do you think you are? You think you can accuse me of infidelity with no proof?"

"I'm your wife," she spits. "And I think your bullshit excuse for a scarf is evidence enough."

"I bought that for you," he snaps. "Thought maybe it might thaw you out, you frigid -"

"Don't you dare," she cuts in, eyes flashing dangerously.

David steps closer, nostrils flared, but Alex doesn't back down, staring up at him defiantly. "When my wife won't let me near her, I think I'm entitled to call her what I like. All these years raising Matt and Laura, doing my best to be a father to them and dating whenever I could find the time… and when I finally decide to remarry again, my wife thinks I'm cheating on her because I bought her a scarf." He scoffs. "I've never met anyone so insecure and paranoid. It's pathetic."

That's what her first husband used to say, a long time ago. And he'd been seeing someone else behind her back for years. The painful memory still stings and Alex wonders if she'll ever find someone who won't need to go looking elsewhere for something she can't seem to provide. Tears filling her eyes, she ignores the small voice inside that tells her she already has.

"And even if I was cheating," David continues, watching her scornfully. "Would anyone blame me when my wife acts like my touch is poison?"

"It might as well be," she says, glaring.

"Then leave!" He shouts. "Go back to your postage-stamp sized flat and your rubbish job."

"I can't!" She cries, wiping at her cheeks. "I left everything to be here with you, and look where it got me!"

"What?" David asks, voice loud and echoing in their bedroom. "A big house in the country? Your own studio? Yes, sweetheart, you made a big mistake marrying me!"

"You think I care about any of that? You're not the man I married, and I don't think you ever were."

"I didn't exactly get what I signed on for either," he snaps. "You're not quite the sweet, funny woman I proposed to who couldn't seem to get enough of me."

"I've had quite enough of you," she replies.

Eyes enraged and face flushed, David says, "Then get the hell out of my bedroom and sleep on the sodding floor for all I care."

"Gladly," Alex snaps, turning and grabbing a change of clothes from her dresser, hands shaking in her anger. "Don't forget the scarf. You'll need that when you jack off tonight."

"Fuck off," he calls after her as she storms out of the bedroom.

"You wish," she growls, and slams the door shut behind her.

In the hallway, she finds Matt standing at the top of the staircase, frozen and pale, his eyes wide. It's obvious he's heard everything and at the sight of him, Alex drops her clothes and bursts into tears. He's at her side in an instant, picking her clothes up off the floor and putting his arms around her. Shushing her gently, he guides her to the stairs and leads her down, his embrace warm and his lips against her temple the whole time.

By the time they reach the bottom, Alex has managed to compose herself and she stops him at the foot of the stairs, pulling away to wipe at her eyes and take a deep breath. It isn't so much about David but the fact that she'd married another man who ended up being a mistake while Matt, who is bloody perfect and wants her, is her stepson and too young and just not a long-term option. Sometimes the world just isn't fair.

"You alright?" He asks, watching her closely.

She nods, mustering a smile for him. "I'm fine, darling. Sorry about that."

He shakes his head. "I'm the one who's sorry. He's a bastard, Alex."

"I'm used to it," she says, taking her clothes from him and turning to head into the kitchen. She's going to need tea, and lots of it.

"At least sleep in my room tonight," he says, following behind her.

"I can't do that," she says, though she wants nothing more than to have some tea and then go curl up in his arms and fall asleep. It sounds heavenly.

"Why not?" He asks, reaching out and grasping her wrist, turning her to face him. "Who gives a damn about him? Just…" He stops, eyes suddenly pleading. "Just leave with me."

Breath catching in her throat, she stares at him. "What?"

Grip tightening on her wrist, Matt strokes his thumb over her rapid pulse point; gaze soft but desperate. "We could go tonight and be at my flat in a few hours."

Heart pounding erratically against her chest until it feels like she just might burst, Alex shakes her head slowly and pulls her hand from his grasp. "Matt…we need to talk."

He frowns. "What's wrong?"

She swallows, wishing more than anything that she didn't have to say it. "This has been nice, darling. Wonderful, actually. And I wouldn't trade my time with you for anything but we both know it can't go on."

"Of course it can," he insists, and she knows he isn't really hearing her. Not yet. "It can go on forever, Alex. Just leave him. I'll be here for you, I promise. I won't ever treat you the way he does. I'll take care of you." He licks his lips, meeting her eyes with deliberate intent. "I'll love you."

Eyes filling up again, Alex chokes back a sob and turns, walking quickly into the kitchen. In other circumstances, she thinks she might have wanted nothing more than she wanted to hear those words from his mouth. She would have fallen into his arms and agreed to go anywhere but not now – never now. "You can't love someone after three weeks," she insists, searching frantically for a tea bag and the kettle.

"Then call the ruddy papers because we've got a new phenomenon on our hands," he snaps, and then pauses when she jumps. "I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't mean to shout."

She nods and wants to tell him it's just the argument with David that has her on edge, that she knows he'd never frighten her on purpose. He's better than that. But she says nothing, kettle clutched tightly in her hand as she stares at him. He's standing on the other side of the kitchen, looking a bit lost as he runs his hand through his hair, but it feels like he's miles away, the chasm between them widening already. She wants to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and tell him she doesn't mean it, that she feels more for him than she ever felt for David or anyone else.

She doesn't move.

Finally, Matt looks up at her, eyes pained. "What about today? Beloved. You wrote beloved,

Alex."

She swallows hard; remembering the feel of the paintbrush in her hand and the warm, smooth skin of his thigh under her palm. It was only hours ago, but it feels like lifetimes. "It was just a word, darling," she rasps, hating herself. "It didn't mean anything."

He flinches like she'd slapped him, his face paling. "You mean to tell me that none of this has meant anything to you? In the meadow – I thought you were agreeing with me. And you kept the sweetpeas. Are you telling me I've been misreading you this whole time?"

She could say yes. Make him believe he was nothing but a distraction, a lovely young man to pay attention to her because her marriage was a sham. But she just can't bring herself to cause him that much pain. She couldn't live with herself. "Of course not! Matt, I care about you but -"

"Then let's go," he says, eyes brightening as he rushes toward her. "I get it if you don't want to live with me or you don't love me. It's too soon for all that for you, I understand. But I want to leave, Alex, and I want you to come with me."

She shakes her head as he gently pulls the kettle from her death-grip, setting it aside before taking her hand. "We could never have anything together. We're –"

"We're perfect for each other," he insists, leaning closer to her until she can smell his soap and the faint scent of paint that still lingers on him. "I don't give a damn how old we are or who you're married to. We're supposed to be together and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise."

Alex closes her eyes as he kisses her knuckles reverently.

"Come with me," he says again, voice soft and enticing. "We'll go to bloody America and kidnap your daughter if we have to. She's a part of your life and I want to meet her. I want her with us."

Eyes fluttering open, she pulls her hand from his gently. "She is coming here, Matt. When we talked on the phone today, she said she wants to live with me."

He grins, despite the tension between them, obviously so happy for her. It makes her chest ache. "That's fantastic, Alex."

She nods, biting her lip as she meets his eyes. "But I can't continue this thing between us. Not now. She's so important, Matt, and I won't bugger this up. She needs stability -"

"And my father can give that but I can't?" He asks incredulously.

"No, that's not it at all." Alex sighs shakily. "Matt, you're my stepson. What we're doing is wrong -"

"It's not," he says fiercely, and she ignores him.

"And you're so young. There's too much against us and it would never work out. I can't bring Salome into an unsteady relationship, not after my divorce from her father -"

"That's rubbish," Matt scowls, looking wounded and ready to lash out. "I don't want anyone but you and you know it. This is about money, isn't it? I don't have any and my father's loaded."

"How dare you," she says, shoving at his chest. "Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? I don't care about that!"

"What else could it be?" He asks. "You know I want you, Alex. I want a life with you. I've made that perfectly clear. I may not be able to give you a big house with your own studio, but at least I would love you the way you deserve to be loved. At least I wouldn't call you names and shout and go away on three-day business trips to have sex with another woman." Matt swallows audibly, eyes wet as he looks down at her. "I could make you happy. Call me naïve, but to me, that should mean a hell of a lot more than what's in our sodding bank account."

She shakes her head, too overcome to even protest. Her whole body is shaking and she curls her quivering hands into fists, fighting back the tears.

Matt runs a hand over his face, jaw clenched. "I can't stay and watch you with him anymore. It's killing me." He meets her eyes and she feels her knees tremble. "I'm going home."

He leans in, pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth – so warm and soft, so gentle with her even now – and her breath hitches on a sob as he pulls away.

"Goodbye, Alex."

No.

She watches with detached desolation as he turns from her and leaves the room. The minute he's out of sight, she sinks to the floor in tears, the high-charged emotion of the day leaving her weak and shaking like a leaf as she sobs into the expensive stone floor. An indeterminate amount of time passes as she sits there on her knees, hunched over and watching tears fall from her chin and splash to the floor. She hears footsteps on the stairs and sits up, heart in her throat.

The front door slams shut moments later, and then it's only a minute before she hears the sound of Matt's car starting and the gravel under his tires as he begins the long journey down the driveway and away from her. Alex puts a hand over her mouth and sniffles, telling herself she'd done the right thing. She wipes at her cheeks and squares her shoulders. She needs to focus on catching David in the act and getting her evidence. She needs to find a job and a flat in London to give her daughter the nourishing, secure environment she'll need when she finally arrives.

She'd done the right thing.

Repeating it like a mantra in her head, Alex pulls herself up from the floor and out of the house. She walks like a zombie across the backyard, empty and hollow. When David finds her in her studio in the morning, curled up in an armchair and staring blankly at her half-finished painting of the meadow, he apologizes for his harsh words.

Alex does not.

Neither of them mentions the scarf again and that night, with no one else to turn to, Alex sleeps in their bedroom once more.

When Matt gets back into London in the wee hours of the morning, he walks into his flat in a haze, broken-hearted and bone-weary, only to find Daisy asleep on his bed. He stops in the doorway, staring at her curled up beneath his sheets, wearing one of his shirts and pushes back the annoyance. He'd asked for a break and she has a place of her own, but apparently she's been staying here.

Well, at least someone wants to be with him.

Swallowing around the horrible lump that's been lodged in his throat since he kissed Alex goodbye, Matt silently drops his bag to the floor and sheds his clothes. Clad in his boxers, he moves slowly to the bed and joins his girlfriend beneath the sheets. He remains on the opposite side of the bed, staring at her as she sleeps.

She's just as beautiful as she's always been, with long straight locks and a slender body he's become pretty familiar with, always smelling of martinis and expensive perfume. But he's spent the last few weeks growing accustomed to wild curls and curves, the smell of paint and flowers. Nothing can compare to that and nothing will make any of this any better.

He's not the same man he was when he left and there's no denying that. Being with Alex has changed him, changed his priorities and his whole outlook. He looks back on the man who'd pulled into his father's driveway three weeks ago worried about how awkward things might be and whether or not the beautiful woman in the flower section of the supermarket had led him astray in her flower choice and wishes he that was still all he had to stress about. He knows what love feels like now, in a way he never had before.

Three glorious weeks of falling in love with this gorgeous, brilliant, amazing woman and now nothing will ever be the same again. He misses Alex already; just staring at Daisy makes him ache for her.

He wonders if he'll ever see her again.

He couldn't stay. Alex refuses to leave and continuing to watch the woman he loves endure a sham of a marriage with his father just isn't an option. He'd walked around with a miserable, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach all the time, this nauseating mix of guilt and lust and jealousy, and he couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't healthy. And as much as it pains him to admit it, he can't help Alex. She can only help herself.

Settling more comfortably beneath the sheets, Matt tries to block out thoughts of Alex fighting with David, her face crumpling the moment she'd seen him standing outside their bedroom waiting for her. He wonders what she's going to do now, without him there to turn to. The thought of her being alone makes his chest ache, but she hadn't wanted to leave with him and there was nothing he could do. Why wouldn't she go with him?

Next to him, Daisy stirs, her sleep disturbed by his constant fidgeting. Blinking groggily, her eyes focus on him and widen. She gasps, sitting up in bed to gape down at him. "You're home."

He nods, wondering if that lump in his throat is ever going to leave and if Alex had ever really cared about him at all. "I'm home."

The next few weeks pass by in a blur as he reconciles with Daisy the best he can, slowly training himself not to ache for someone else every time he looks at her. He doesn't hear from his father but Laura calls, telling him of David's annoyance that he'd left without a word in the middle of the night and that he and Alex seem to be doing fine. Well, as fine as can be expected considering neither of them seems to want to be married anymore, but both of them refuse to be the one to end things.

Laura tries to ask him what had happened between him and Alex and why he'd left so abruptly but Matt just isn't ready to talk about it.

"Oh come on," she whinges. "You've already told me you're shagging her. If you can't tell me why you broke up, what's the point of me knowing everything?"

Matt sighs gustily. "I'm just not ready, alright? It…it hurts."

Laura makes a sympathetic noise in the back of her throat. "I'm sorry, honey. I tried to tell you – the two of you are just too different."

"That wasn't the problem," he says. "We were…perfect. I'm just not stable enough for her."

"Can you blame her though?" Laura asks, voice soft. "You're her stepson. I wouldn't have a lot of faith in a lasting relationship with you either, if I were her."

"Thanks so much, Lor."

"You know what I mean," she says, and he can hear her scowl through the phone. "If it's any consolation, she seemed sad when I talked to her. I mean, she doesn't know I know anything so she tried to hide it but…she's not happy."

He feels tears sting his eyes and he grips his phone tighter, blinking them away. "That doesn't make me feel better, Lor."

"I know, honey." She sighs. "I'm sorry."

Matt tries to keep his mind off of Alex, spending time with friends and going to his audition in hopes of becoming the next Doctor. It goes fairly well and they'd all seemed pleased with his performance but then he'd spilled coffee all over Steven Moffat. The man had brushed it off, laughing and telling him that it was fine but Matt sincerely doubts he'll ever hear from them again. Just as well. He hears they were looking for someone older anyway. Everyone wants someone older than him, it seems. He looks forward to being in his forties, when he won't be too young for anyone or anything.

Two days after his audition, he's on the sofa watching one of those mind-numbing shows where viewers just watch an artist paint landscapes because it reminds him of Alex, when the phone rings. He doesn't get up to answer it because the paintbrush the artist is using looks like the one Alex had. He remembers cold paint against his skin and then the warmth of Alex straddling his lap, the look on her face as he moved the handle of her paintbrush inside her.

"Baby, someone's on the phone for you."

Startled, Matt glances up from staring blankly at the telly and sees Daisy standing over him, holding out the telephone. Shaking off thoughts of Alex for the thousandth time in the span of a few short weeks of trying valiantly not to think of her, he takes the phone from his girlfriend and presses it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hullo, Matt," a cheerful Scottish brogue comes over the line and Matt feels his heart rate climb. "Steven Moffat, here. How does it feel to be the Eleventh Doctor?"

Matt looks up at Daisy, biting her lip anxiously, and beams.

He texts Laura about it before bed that night, putting the phone on his bedside table and swallowing back the sigh of disappointment as Daisy sheds her clothes and crawls toward him, draping herself over him and kissing his neck as she murmurs about celebrating his achievement. He remembers sitting on the back steps of his father's house with Alex, wrapped in her arms under the night sky as she'd smiled up at him and promised he would have a private celebration if he got the part. He doubts this is what she had in mind.

Wrapping his arms around Daisy, he focuses on the part he's just gotten in order to maintain his enthusiasm and when he kisses her, he tells himself that eventually, it will get easier.

In the morning, there's a text from Laura waiting for him. 'Congrats, honey! Knew you could do it. Bad news, though. Called dad and told him. He wants to throw you a dinner party. Apparently he's proud that you finally achieved something. Oops.'

Groaning, Matt tosses his phone away and buries his head beneath his pillow. Next to him, Daisy sits up, pulling the sheet around her. "What's wrong?"

"My father is trying to make up for being a crap parent when I was younger by throwing me a party now," he says, voice muffled by the pillow.

"That's…nice." She rubs his back and her fingers are too soft against his skin. "Well, at least I'll finally get to meet one of your stepmothers, huh?"

Matt squeezes his eyes shut and silently hates his life.

This is how we settle our scores

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from The Good China's A Million Little Pieces

The three weeks she had with Matt were amazing – he made her feel like she deserved more than the way she continued to be treated by the men in her life. He made her happier, more confident. The three weeks after Matt have been a different story entirely. She still carries that confidence and strength that he gave her just by loving her, but she feels emptier without him there, like nothing she does means quite as much because he isn't there to share it with.

She misses his company, his laugh and the way he'd kissed her – always with this single-minded focus that told her that when she was in his arms, he was thinking of nothing else. She keeps herself busy, though, contacting her lawyer and sending him all the evidence she'd compiled against David – text messages, emails and recorded phone calls. She'd honestly enjoyed her foray into spying. If art weren't her calling, she'd have another career to fall back on. As she'd hoped, David is in direct violation of their pre-nup and Alex is entitled to half of everything. She's just so thankful that she'd thought to insist on such a clause – even though David had seemed perfect, she'd been wary with her track record. She can only marvel at David's arrogance when he signed it, obviously thinking he could violate the clause and Alex would be too dim to find out.

At any rate, she'll have plenty of money to be able to get a place for herself and Salome and support her daughter until she can find a job again. She has already applied for a position at several universities and is waiting to hear back from one of them. The only thing left to do is inform David that she has started the process for divorce and that he should really get himself an attorney.

Cutting up vegetables at the kitchen counter, Alex smiles as she thinks of the look on his face when she serves him the papers. Oh, it's going to be delicious.

"What are you looking so devious about?"

Alex glances over at Laura, who has been doing a majority of the cooking this evening and shakes her head. "Nothing. I just spent a bit too much on this dress and I'm wondering when your father is going to figure it out."

Laura snorts, eyeing the grey dress, cinched tight at the waist and then flowing to her knees.

"Money well spent, if you ask me."

"Not that he pays attention," she says, as if it bothers her. She hadn't bought the dress for David. Matt's dinner party is tonight and she'd wanted to look nice. She misses him terribly, and while she knows she'd made the right decision in letting him walk out, she just wants to see him. Maybe it will help the ever –present itch under her skin, like a drug addict needing a fix.

"He's a man," Laura says with a consoling look. "And a business man at that. It would probably take you walking around naked to make him look up from his bloody phone."

And there's another difference between the period of during Matt and after Matt. She'd never had to worry about being noticed when she wore something nice. Matt always noticed when she made an effort. What she really loved was when she was wrapped in nothing but his shirt without a stitch of makeup and her hair a mess, and he would make her feel like she was dressed for a ball. He just had that affect her on – one look told her how much he adored her and while she'd always been terrified to see it while he was here, she aches with missing it now.

"Alex? You okay?"

Jerking out of her trance, Alex manages a smile and returns to the vegetables. "Fine. So what time is Matt supposed to be here?"

"Well, he said six but he has to wait for the Slag and she's always late so probably seven."

Alex freezes, the knife mid-way through a carrot stick. "Daisy's coming?"

"Yup." Laura sounds just as disappointed as Alex feels.

Shutting her eyes for a moment, she gives herself time to feel stupid and sentimental and foolish, thinking that Matt could possibly seriously want someone like her when he has a young, lovely girlfriend at home who is his age and who can actually be with him. He's better off and she doesn't know why she expected him to pine – she pushed him away and he got on with his life. She knew he couldn't love her after three weeks, and she was right. A little time away from her and some distance from the situation, and he's perfectly fine – bringing his girlfriend home for dinner certainly signifies moving on. She knew it, but she still can't help but feel a little (alright, very) betrayed.

She'd just thought…

Well, it doesn't matter what she thought. She'd been wrong, obviously.

"That will be nice," she says, attempting a cheery tone.

Laura throws her a look. "Nice and that girl do not belong in the same sentence together. Unless we're talking about her tits, maybe. And even those probably aren't even really hers."

"Laura," Alex hisses, secretly pleased. "Honestly."

Giggling, Laura adjusts the bodice on her dress and does a little shimmy.

Alex tosses a carrot stick at her. "Oh get out, hussy."

One thing she is definitely going to miss when she divorces David is Laura – the girl has become a close friend and Alex hates to lose her.

They manage to cook the rest of the dinner and set the table in the dining room without incident and when Matt pulls up in the driveway, Alex calls for David to come out of his study. He greets his son at the door but she stays behind, fiddling nervously with the cutlery in the dining room and adjusting the tablecloth. She listens to Matt and Daisy greet David and Laura, smoothing out her dress with damp palms. The sound of Matt's voice after three weeks is like balm on a wound and she listens closely, drinking in her fill before she's cut off again.

The party makes their way slowly into the dining room and Alex straightens, moving forward to greet them with a smile. The moment Matt sees her he looks at her the way he has always looked at her, this combination of hunger and warm affection that makes her stomach turn over and flutter. Except this time the look is mixed with sadness and regret, and Alex can't bear to see it. She averts her eyes as she leans forward to greet him with a kiss on the cheek and a murmured, "Hello, darling. Congratulations."

He catches her wrist and her eyes dart to his in surprise before he pulls her in and brushes his lips over her cheek chastely. "Thank you," he says softly. "You always did believe in me, didn't you?"

Hot all over from the brief but intimate touches, Alex pulls away from him nervously, her knees trembling. "Of course, dear. And who's this?"

"Daisy," he mutters, gesturing to the unfamiliar girl standing next to him. "My…girlfriend."

Daisy beams at her, reaching out a hand to shake Alex's delicately. "I love your dress."

"Thank you," Alex smiles kindly because the pain in her chest right now isn't really Daisy's fault.

"I saw it in a magazine last week," she continues as David moves past them all to the table. "It was just so out of my price range -"

Alex makes a frantic motion with her hands, shaking her head with wide eyes. Catching on, Daisy stops midsentence and giggles.

"I'm poor of course," she says a little louder, glancing at David. "So anything is out of my price range."

David snorts.

"Sorry." Daisy winces.

Alex shrugs, patting her shoulder. "Thanks for trying, dear."

They sit down to dinner and Alex feels horrible for sneaking glances at Matt whenever she can because no matter how Laura seems to despise her, Daisy seems like a sweet girl, if a little dense – doesn't seem like Matt's type at all and she doesn't quite understand what they're doing together. But however bad she feels, whenever she sneaks a glance at Matt, he's already looking back, watching her from across the table with those same dark, hungry eyes and it's impossible to resist.

She's gotten used to silently flirting with him in front of David after weeks of doing so, and it's easy to fall back into the habit now – sipping at her wine and exposing her throat so he can see it flex as she swallows, or leaning across the table to reach for something and giving him a clear view down her dress. She doesn't even know why she's doing it – nothing has changed and being

with him ever again isn't an option but he's here and she's been starved for him since the moment he left.

They talk about when Matt is going to start filming and his costars, whom he has already met – a lovely girl named Karen and a friend of Matt's from a previous film. Alex doesn't pay much attention, too busy remembering the time Matt had bent her over the very table they're eating around and fucked her until she was nothing but an incoherent, shuddering mess beneath him. There are still scratch marks in the wood. She'd hidden them with a well-placed tablecloth but knowing they're under there even now, proof of how much he wanted her, while he sits with his girlfriend across the table makes her feel oddly smug and heartbroken all at once. She looks up from the table and sees Matt watching her, and his face tells her he's thinking exactly what she is.

Best memory ever, he'd told her then, his face buried in her hair.

And suddenly there are tears in her eyes and she glances quickly away from him before he can see them. This is ridiculous – she sits at this table every day and it shouldn't affect her so strongly now just because he's here, sitting across from her and looking at her like that. She blinks hard, staring resolutely at the mashed potato bowl until she can see clearly again. The conversation around the table comes slowly back into focus and she starts paying attention to what's going on around her once more just in time to hear Daisy say, "Well, we're practically living together now. I think I might just sell my place and move in altogether."

Feeling her heart squeeze her in chest and hating herself for it, she looks at Matt to see him glancing sharply at Daisy, frowning. "We haven't discussed that."

Daisy shrugs, cheeks a little pink. "I know, but I mean, I just assumed…."

Across the table, Laura smirks. "You know what they say about people who assume." Matt turns to glare at her and Laura smiles serenely, spearing a carrot and sliding it into her mouth.

"Matt?"

He turns to look at Daisy again, wearing an expression of exaggerated patience. "What?"

"We're practically living together already. Why wouldn't you want me to sell my place?"

"Because there's a big difference between sleeping over -" His eyes dart to Alex fleetingly and

she flinches, " – and making a commitment. Do we have to discuss this now?"

"Yes," Daisy sets her jaw, looking obstinate. "I think this would be a great time to discuss it. Maybe with your family here you'll actually be honest. You've been holding back from me ever since you got back from this place and I want to know why. It's like you're constantly somewhere else."

Alex quickly averts her eyes from the scene in front of her, heart pounding. Everyone else seems to be trying to ignore the drama taking place at the table as well, Laura fiddling with her phone and hiding a smile, and David looking curiously at Alex, his expression contemplative. She frowns at him, raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head, as if to dismiss whatever he's thinking of, picking up his wine glass and downing half.

"This is ridiculous, I don't even know what you're talking about -"

"You don't know? You won't even touch me unless I initiate it first and before you left, I could never get you to stop! Perhaps someone here can tell me what's the matter with you."

"Leave my family out of this, Dais," Matt snaps.

Trembling all over and unwilling to hear anything else, Alex stands from the table, mumbling, "I'm just going to go check on the dessert."

Laura glances up from her phone to scowl at Daisy. "Oh bloody hell, did you ever think that maybe he's just tired of you, you whining cow?"

"Laura!"

"What?

Alex flees the room quickly, heading for the quiet of her studio instead of the kitchen but she doubts anyone even notices.

In the middle of rowing with Daisy, Matt almost doesn't see Alex get up and leave, mumbling something about dessert, but the moment she does, he wants to go after her. Just a moment later, his mobile vibrates in his pocket. He ignores Daisy, pulling it out to see a text from Laura.

'The dessert is already finished. Go after her.'

It's all the encouragement he needs, and he shoves his mobile back into his pocket, muttering to Daisy, "I need a fag."

She huffs, picking up her wine glass and ignoring him as he hurries from the room. The minute he's away from the dining room, all thoughts of Daisy and their argument are gone from his mind. The only thing he cares about is finding Alex. He doesn't bother checking the kitchen or her bedroom, and if he knows her as well as he thinks he does, she probably retreated to her studio to get away from them all.

He's on his way there when he passes his father's study. The door is open and light spills out into the hallway. He frowns; peering around the doorframe to find Alex perched on the edge of David's desk, a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.

"Thought I'd find you in your studio," he says softly, turning his attention to anywhere but her because looking at her makes him want to go to her and that's not an option anymore.

"It's where I was headed," she says. "But the idea of alcohol and a smoke first was too enticing. Picked the lock."

Amused, he closes the door around and steps further into the room. "Using what?"

"Hairpin."

He sighs, missing the smug grin that would have accompanied that word just a few weeks ago. Now, she won't even look at him as she blows out a ring of smoke and taps the cigar against the edge of the desk.

"Are you alright?"

She smiles at that, finally looking at him. "Shouldn't I be asking you that? You're the one who just had a row at the dinner table with his girlfriend."

Matt grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, not my best memory of that table."

The moment the words are out, he realizes what he just said and blushes scarlet while Alex smirks around a sip of brandy. Hating the way he can never seem to fluster her the way he so easily flusters himself, he forces back his embarrassment and walks a little closer, until he's perched on the desk next to her and she's straight-backed and stiff at his side, her fingers tight around her glass.

Leaning close, he says softly, "My best memories of this house all seem to involve you." She inhales sharply, turning her head to look at him. Their eyes meet and he gives her a tentative smile. "I miss you, Alex."

She looks away, bringing the cigar to her mouth. "That's sweet, darling but you don't have to say that. I know you've moved on -"

"Did you not just hear Daisy complaining that I haven't been myself?" He frowns, nicking her brandy and ignoring her annoyed hum as he downs it. "All I can think about is you. I don't call that moving on."

She breathes out a puff of smoke and stubs out the cigar on the desk. "Then why are you with her?"

He shrugs.

"Matt."

"Because she wants me." He sighs, reaching around behind them for his father's crystal decanter and pouring himself another drink. "It's sort of a nice feeling after you've been rejected."

"I didn't reject you, Matt," she says softly.

"You did," he snaps, and if bitterness leaks into his words, he feels he's entitled. "Do you know why I wanted to be the Doctor so bloody badly, Alex?"

"It's your big break, dear." She turns to look at him with a wobbly smile. "You're in."

"In a way, yes." He puts his drink aside, taking her hand and gripping tight when she tries to pull away from the touch. "I wanted it because I thought maybe you might look at me less like a child and more like someone who can take care of you and your daughter, who can contribute. I can be stable, Alex."

Eyes watery, she tugs her hand free of his and hops off the desk, pacing away from him, her dress swishing around her knees as she moves. "I never looked at you like a child. You're younger than me, yes, but that isn't what bothers me about us."

He swallows. "Is it money?"

She swivels on her heel with a growl. "I don't give a damn about money, Matthew."

"Then what the hell is it?"

"You're my stepson!" She cries. "We shouldn't be together. It's wrong."

"That's rubbish," he snaps. "I've loved you since the moment I met you, and I had no bloody idea who you were then."

She stares. "What?"

"In the supermarket," he says, lowering his voice. "I was going to ask you out but I saw the ring on your finger."

Standing there in the middle of his father's study, tears in her eyes and her hands clenched into the skirts of her dress, Matt has never seen Alex look so lost and afraid. He just wants to go to her, to kiss her trembling mouth and wrap her in his arms until she realizes they could work, if she would just give them a chance. "Why?"

He licks his lips, meeting her eyes carefully. "Because the moment you touched my hand, I knew we could be amazing."

Tears slip down her cheeks and she wraps her arms around herself comfortingly but Matt doesn't move, too afraid to break the spell. Voice shaking, she says quietly, "I filed for divorce. David doesn't know yet."

Heart leaping into his throat, Matt jumps from the desk and crosses the room in three long strides, taking her hands in his and looking down at her with hope shining in his eyes like a beacon. "You're leaving?"

She nods, staring down at their joined hands. "It doesn't change anything. We can't be -"

"Alex," he says softly, and waits for her to look up at him. "I know you're scared and I can't promise you that everything is going to be perfect but I can promise that I love you and that if you would just say yes, I would try my damnedest to make this work."

"But your father -"

"Our relationship is a bit crap anyway, if you hadn't noticed."

"Laura -"

"Sort of already knows." At her shocked look, he winces. "Sorry."

Alex blinks, breathing out steadily. "Well, she didn't hit me."

"Course not." He scoffs. "She loves you."

"Well what about Daisy?"

"What about her?"

"She's your girlfriend. You can't just -"

"Oh don't pretend like you care if I chuck her," he says, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"She's a lovely girl," Alex says stubbornly, biting her lip and glancing away. "I just hate her anyway."

He grins, a strange warmth filling his chest. "Jealous, Kingston?"

She doesn't answer, still not looking at him.

Stepping closer, he presses himself against her, one hand on her hip and the other on her jaw and forcing her to look at him as he says gruffly, "Now you know how I felt every sodding day I was here and had to watch you with him."

Her green eyes darken and he sees something shift and change in her expression, the hesitation vanishing either because she isn't feeling it anymore or because she's hiding it well. In its place is unabashed desire, the way she used to look at him before this whole mess began. Bringing her hand up to the back of his neck, she pulls him down to her mouth and kisses him.

Flooded with elation and heat, Matt moves his mouth over hers, catching her bottom lip between his teeth and then sucking on it gently. She whimpers and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past her parted lips, deepening the kiss. She tastes like brandy and cigar smoke as her tongue meets his own, sliding against him eagerly, curling the same way it does when she's lavishing attention on other parts of him. Groaning, Matt begins to walk them backwards blindly, his hands tight on her hips. Alex stumbles in her heels but he keeps her upright until her back hits the tall row of bookshelves behind her.

She moans as the book spines press into her back, arching against him and turning the kiss into something else entirely, desperate and messy. She slides a hand into the hair at the back of his neck, tugging, and Matt growls softly against her lips, nipping at her as he slips his hands over her hips and down, bunching her dress up in his fists.

Her hands roam over his shoulders and down his arms to grasp his biceps, her fingers digging into his skin through his shirt. Kissing her neck, Matt slides his hands under her thighs and lifts her,

pinning her to the bookshelf until the spines of his father's old books are digging into her back. She doesn't seem to notice, wrapping one leg around his hip and perching the heel of her other foot on one of the lower bookshelves for leverage. She rolls her hips, and his erection presses right against her center. He makes a guttural sound in his throat and Alex throws her head back with a gasp, her eyes dark and her cheeks flushed.

Shaking with how much he wants her, how much he has missed her and the soft noises she makes, how she seems to come alive under his fingertips, Matt runs his hands up the inside of her thighs, biting his lip against a moan at her soft skin and the head radiating from her core.

Working desperately to get his trousers open, Alex curses softly under her breath, brow furrowed in concentration, but the moment he brushes his fingers over her through her lacy knickers, she gasps out a moan and her fingers curl into the belt loops of his trousers to tug him closer. He bends his head, pressing rough, heated kisses to her décolletage as her chest heaves under his mouth.

"God, darling, please," she whispers, her hand snaking between them to press over his, trying to force his hand beneath her knickers but he resists, merely stroking his fingers lightly over her clit through the fabric.

She huffs in frustration and begins working on his trousers again in her impatience. Successful this time, she slips her hand into his pants and wraps it around his length just at the moment he presses hard against her clit. She cries out, bucking her hips and tightening her grip on him. He groans, suddenly quite finished with teasing her.

Hurriedly, he reaches around to his back pocket for his wallet but Alex doesn't wait for him, stroking his cock with one hand and using the other to dip inside her knickers and rub against her slick flesh. He stares, hot all over, while she bites her lip against the soft sounds of need that want to escape.

"Fucking hell, Alex," he chokes out, and fumbles quickly for the condom, tossing his wallet aside. He rips it open, batting her hand away from his length and rolling it on.

She writhes against him and he pushes her hands from her knickers, shoving the lace aside and lining himself up at her entrance. Pressing his face against hers, he pushes inside her and all the air leaves his lungs at the feel of her around him once again, so tight and warm, as welcoming as any homecoming. Alex sighs out against his cheek as he fills her, her hands in his hair and her back arched.

"So beautiful," he whispers, watching her intently.

She looks at him through half-lidded eyes, the green nearly eclipsed by the dark of her pupils. "I wasn't rejecting you, you know."

He bites at her throat and then laves his tongue over the teeth marks soothingly. "What were you doing?"

"Pushing you away," she whispers, her fingers raking through his hair and he tries to focus on something other than the burning need to move. "You scare me to death. Things with you are so…uncertain. I hate it – had enough uncertainty in my life."

"Life is nothing but uncertainty, Kingston," he says, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. "No such thing as a guarantee." He presses a soft kiss to her cheek and then trails his mouth up to her temple. "Sometimes you just have to go on faith."

Alex turns her head and kisses him hard, her hands cupping his face. He takes it as permission to move and pulls out, pushing back in again with a muffled groan. Alex gasps quietly against his mouth as he sets a slow, hard pace, forcing her repeatedly into the bookshelves behind her until he thinks she'll have the titles on the spines embossed on her skin for days – The Great Gatsby and Plato's philosophy a reminder of the way they moved together as one.

"Fuck, Alex," he hisses as she grasps the bookshelf behind her for more leverage and rolls her hips against his thrusts, her mouth open and her eyes glazed. "You feel so good, love. Missed you."

The books on the shelves shudder as his pace quickens, his hips snapping frantically as Alex curls her hands into his shoulders and her whole body tightens, the bodice of her dress straining against her breasts as she cries out softly, little needy moans that send heat coiling in the pit of his stomach. As she slips her hand into her knickers and strokes deft, capable fingers over her clit, Matt feels everything within him tighten and center on the burning in his groin and he thrusts faster, harder, desperate to see Alex come before he does.

He hitches her leg up higher on his hip, sending him deeper than before and Alex throws her head back, hitting it hard against the shelf behind her as she cries out and shatters around him. The feel of her muscles tightening and fluttering around him and the sight of her coming apart against his father's bookshelves is enough to send Matt over the edge with her and he buries his face in her neck and bites down hard on her skin to muffle the sound of her name as he rides out his orgasm.

When he comes back to himself, still trembling in the afterglow, Alex is clinging to him and

breathing heavily, running gentle fingers through his hair. He kisses her softly before helping her stand on her own two feet again, making sure she's steady before disposing of the condom in a wastebasket by his father's desk. When he turns back to her, Alex still hasn't moved, her skirts around her waist and her hair mussed, her lips red and swollen. He can see the bite marks he'd left on her beginning to darken and bruise, and she looks so ravished he feels warmth steal up his spine, like fondness and smug satisfaction all rolled into one. He grins at her and when she smiles slowly back, he hopes that maybe everything will be okay after all.

"You know, I always knew there was someone else."

The familiar voice in the doorway startles them, and Matt looks to Alex, finding her staring back equally wide-eyed, her face ashen.

"I just didn't know it was my own son."

Without thinking, Matt crosses to Alex's side instantly, covering her as she attempts to right her dress and make herself presentable. Turning to his father, leaning in the doorway, he asks, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to realize what's been going on under my nose this whole time," David says, eyes burning and jaw clenched. "Your own stepmother? What hell is the matter with you?"

"If I had to stay away from all the women you've touched I would have to eliminate half the London population," he snaps, and behind him, Alex puts a hand on his arm.

"And that doesn't bother you?" David asks, but he's looking behind Matt's shoulder at Alex. "Sharing a woman with your father?"

Jaw flexing as Alex's fingers tighten their grip on his arm, he says, "I wouldn't call it sharing when she won't even touch you."

"Stop it," Alex says, voice shaking. "Both of you."

Before another word can be said, the sound of clicking heels echoes in the hallway outside as Laura hisses loudly, "Matt, Alex, put your clothes on because I do not want to see that and dad is looking for you!"

Matt doesn't know whether to groan in mortification or laugh as his sister stumbles into the room with her hand over her eyes. Digging the heel of his hand into his forehead, he uses the other to reach for Alex, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze. "Open your eyes, Lor."

She does, blinking at the sudden light and grinning when she sees them fully clothed. "Oh good."

"You knew about this?"

Jumping, she turns wide eyes on her father, a hand to her chest. "Oh my god, have you been there the whole time? Bloody hell."

"Laura," David grits out, face red. "You knew about this and you didn't say anything?"

"Course I did," she says, frowning. "He's my brother. He tells me everything. And I didn't tell you because it's about time someone gave you a taste of your own medicine. Being cheated on is a bit rubbish, isn't it, dad?"

David stares at her, mouth agape and looking so enraged Matt takes a step back, pulling Alex with him.

"What's going on?"

Daisy stands in the doorway, looking between them all with a frown.

Matt glares at Laura, who looks entirely too gleeful. "Matt's been shagging our stepmother."

"Laura," he hisses as Daisy turns a particularly interesting shade of green. "Shut up, for god's sake."

Daisy looks at him, disgust evident in the curl of her mouth. "Matt?"

As much as he wasn't with Daisy for the right reasons and as much as she drove him bloody mad, he wishes she could have found out some other way because finding out like this is just cruel. "I'm sorry, Dais," he says softly, and watches her eyes fill up.

"You're shagging her?" She glances between them and puts a hand over her mouth like she might be ill. "You're sick. Both of you." Backing slowly out of the room, she says, "Stay away from me, Matt."

As she turns on her heel and flees, Matt sighs and lets her go. He can't go after her right now – he's needed here. But he promises himself he'll talk to Daisy later, try to explain and at least apologize properly. Listening to the sound of her striding quickly down the corridor and out of the house, slamming the front door shut behind her, he knows she'd most likely nicked the keys to his car on her way out but no matter. He and Alex can just take her car when they leave. Alone in the study with David glaring at them and Laura looking anywhere but at them, Matt wants nothing more than to leave with Alex right now but he knows this is a conversation they can't avoid and he wants to get it over with sooner rather than later.

Behind him, Alex clears her throat. "David, I know you're upset but if we could just sit down and talk about this -"

"There's nothing to talk about," he snaps. "You're violating the prenup and I am completely within my rights to throw you out on your arse without a bloody pound to your name."

Alex steps around Matt, a smile quirking her lips. "Oh but see, that's where you're wrong, dear. Does the name Cynthia Richards ring any bells? You know, Scarf Girl? You've been shagging her since practically our wedding day and I can prove it."

Matt hides a smile, pride and smugness warring for a spot in his chest.

"You were in violation of our terms first, husband. And that means half of what's yours is mine."

David has never looked more furious – his face blood red and his eyes glittering darkly. Matt has the strongest urge to shield Alex from whatever wrath he might unleash but he stays put, ready to jump in if he has to.

"You think you'll get five bloody pence out of me when I just caught you shagging my son?" He laughs and the sound puts Matt's teeth on edge. "You're mad, Alex. But just for fun, let's say you did get my money. What would you do then? Go live with your stepson? I don't know if he's

mentioned it to you, dear but he has the fickleness of a three year old. You wouldn't last long – about as long as it took for my money to run out, I imagine."

Curling his hands into fists, Matt clenches his jaw and sees nothing but red. He opens his mouth to defend himself, but Alex beats him to it. "Who are you to talk about fickle," she sneers, waving a hand in the direction of his desk. "You think I don't know about your drawer full of wives?"

David glares at her. "Snooping doesn't become you, Alex."

"Neither does that lonely widower persona you've been trying to feed me," she counters, eyebrow raised.

Turning livid eyes to Matt, he says, "Do you really think you'll get anywhere as an actor when everyone finds out the woman the new Doctor has been parading around at awards ceremonies and snogging is actually his stepmother? Walk away from her now Matt, and save yourself a lot of embarrassment."

"Alex is more important than a bloody job," he says lowly, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees her turn and look at him, eyes wide. "I don't care what other people think of me and anyone who thinks they can tell me who I'm going to fall in love with or how I'm going to feel can go fuck themselves – whether it be Steven Moffat or you, dad."

Laura, who up until this point has been doing her best to become invisible, beams at him. He doesn't look at Alex, too afraid he just scared her away with how little everything else matters to him compared to her.

"We'll just see if you're saying that when no one in the industry will give you a job because of her," he says, looking at Alex, who is staring at the floor. "See how much you love her when she's ruined your career."

Alex visibly flinches and seeing red, Matt strides across the room before he even knows what he's doing, heading right for his father. His expression must be something to behold because while David holds his ground, Laura cries out and steps between them, her hands on Matt's shoulders.

"Matt, stop it," she says, her voice muffled over the blood rushing in his ears. "It's not worth it. Calm down."

He struggles against her for a moment, his hands balled into fists and his teeth grinding together. He wants more than anything to just land one good punch – for his childhood, for his sister's childhood, for all the women his father has treated like nothing more than toys to toss out when he's bored, but mostly for Alex, who deserves so much more than anyone has ever given her.

Laura tightens her hold on his arms, pushing him backwards with all her strength and shouting, "Matt! Stop it!"

The words finally register and he blinks away the red haze clouding his vision, shaking his head and stepping away from his sister. He squeezes his eyes shut and rubs his temple as he realizes how close he just came to hitting his own father – he would have deserved it, but Matt has never been one for violence. Taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes and says, "I'm fine."

Laura hovers anyway, uncertain.

David stands with his arms crossed over his chest, looking a little shocked.

Brow furrowed, Matt raises his head, belatedly realizing someone important is missing. "Where's Alex?" Laura's eyes widen and she glances around the room at the same time they hear a car starting outside. "Fuck," Matt jumps into action, throwing himself across the room and past his father, careening into the hall and barreling through the front door and down the steps at full speed. "Alex, wait!"

She turns her head away the moment she sees him, throwing the car into drive and hitting the gas even as he sprints toward her, calling her name. But it's too late to stop her. Laura stumbles down the steps and joins him, teetering in high heels as she clings to his arm and watches with him as Alex's little vintage car speeds down the long driveway and out onto the street.

She's gone.

The last decree, the guarantee

Chapter Notes

Last chapter! Thank you all for your wonderful comments and encouragement, and just for being your lovely selves:) Chapter title from Vintage Red by Jay Jay Pistolet.

Alex drives for a long time and when she finally stops, it's after midnight and she's somewhere in Cardiff, her eyes red and her mind no clearer than it had been when she left. She parks her car and gets out with her handbag – the one thing she'd managed to grab on her way out. She has just enough money with her to get a decent hotel room and when she walks into her room, she falls onto the double bed and buries her face in the freshly laundered pillow.

She had been so, so stupid.

Absolutely nothing had changed but the moment she saw him, every lie she has been comforting herself with flew out the window and she was left bare, defenseless against his eyes and his kisses, his pretty words. And that's all they are, no matter how much he may mean them now – empty, pretty words. He's still her stepson, he's still too young for her and she still has Salome to think of. And she'd known all of that. But he'd come after her, told her he loved her and she'd let it sway her like some flighty teenage girl.

And now everyone knows what she and Matt have been doing.

The right decision had been to let him walk away and she'd done it once, but she hadn't been able to do it again. So she left instead.

Not even bothering to pull back the blankets, Alex closes her tired eyes and tries to sleep, hoping that in the morning, the answer to her problems will be evident.

When she wakes still in her wrinkled dress from dinner, the sun is shining into her room through the thin curtains hanging from the windows and she scrunches her face, automatically turning away from the light before opening her eyes. The first thing she sees is her mobile sitting on the nightstand. Sighing, she reaches out for it to check the time – nearly eleven – and sees five missed calls and four text messages. Sitting up in bed, she runs a hand through her hair and wills away the last remnants of sleep, rubbing at her eyes. Everything hurts this morning, and she's not delusional enough to think it has anything to do with the rubbish hotel mattress.

With nervous fingers, she unlocks her phone and scrolls through her call log. Three of her missed calls are from Matt and two are from Laura. One text message is from Laura as well, saying 'Answer your bloody phone, woman.'

The other three are from Matt.

'Alex, come back.'

'Please call me.'

'I love you.'

She shuts her eyes against the sudden onslaught of tears and takes a deep breath, exhaling through her nose. She needs to think today, and that means keeping her emotions in check. If she falls apart again like she had in the car last night, she won't be doing anyone any good. She opens her eyes again and the first thing she notices is the blinking icon in the right hand corner of her phone screen. She has a voicemail.

For a moment, she contemplates erasing it without listening to it but the desire to hear his voice is too great and there's no denying it is Matt who left a message. Steeling herself, Alex presses a button, lifts the phone to her ear, and listens.

"Alex, it's me."

The tears are already forming at just the sound of his voice but she wills them away, pursing her lips and gripping her mobile tightly.

"Please answer your phone, love. It's going to be fine, I promise. Nothing he said changes the way I feel about you." There's a sigh, soft and ragged. "Just let me know you're alright. Please."

She saves the message. Then, pulling up his name on her phone, she types out two brief sentences. 'I'm okay. Don't call.' She hits send and puts her phone aside, determined to ignore anything else he sends her. Pulling herself out of bed, she stretches and walks to the mini-fridge in the corner, delighted to find it stocked with bottled water and a few apples.

Taking a water bottle, she ambles over to the window and pulls back the curtain, squinting into the morning sun. Her car is parked across the street, that vintage blue sticking out like a soar thumb on a street lined with modern vehicles, boring black and white. Sipping at her water, Alex presses her forehead to the glass and contemplates the state of her own mind. Everything feels clearer today, the world in sharp focus all around her. Maybe today, she can start figuring out what the hell she has done to her life and how to fix it.

On the bed, her mobile rings.

She ignores it; letting it go to voicemail and hoping Matt will give up. There is blessed silence for about ten seconds before it rings again. Growling at his persistence, Alex crosses the room and snatches up her phone from the nest of blankets on the bed, intent on turning it off and giving herself some quiet to think.

Except it isn't Matt calling her.

It's Laura.

Without thinking, she answers it. "Hello?"

"Oh thank god," Laura sighs and it feels good to hear a familiar voice in the midst of the turmoil in her head and the strange hotel room she's standing in. "Where the hell are you?"

"A hotel," she says evasively, not sure if she can trust Laura with any details yet. "I'm fine, dear. Don't worry."

"You walk out after dad finds out you're shagging Matt, no one hears from you for over twelve hours and I'm not supposed to worry?"

"I am a grown woman, you know," Alex scowls into the phone. "I've been taking care of myself since before you were born, young lady." Laura makes a noise that seems to indicate she thinks otherwise and Alex rolls her eyes. "Do you need anything else?"

"Yes. I need you to call Matt. Or go to him."

"I can't do that, honey."

"Why not? You care about him, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she sighs, sinking down onto the edge of the bed. "But it doesn't matter what I want."

"What? Alex, this is your life," Laura says, voice suddenly impassioned. "What you want matters more than anything."

"Not when I have a daughter to think of. She is more important than anything I might want and this, this thing with Matt cannot happen with her around." Alex lifts her legs up onto the bed, folding her them to her chest and hugging her knees. "What would I even say to her?"

"The truth. That you fell in love with someone under shitty circumstances but you made things work because he mattered to you."

Alex stares at her knees until her vision blurs and it's only when she answers Laura with a shaking voice that she realizes she can't see because she's crying. "I can't."

"You can, Alex," Laura says softly. "You think you'll be doing Salome any favors by denying yourself happiness? You think she would thank you for that? What that little girl needs more than anything is a mother who is happy with her life and with herself. And kids can sense these things, I know that better than anyone – she'll know when you're faking it. And if you aren't happy, she won't be. How long do you think it'll be before she's back on a plane to daddy because at least he was honest about who he was?"

Alex shakes her head, despite no one being around to witness it and wipes her tear-streaked cheeks against the fabric of her dress covering her knees. "But it's wrong."

"That's rubbish – you're not actually related, you know. And as soon as the divorce is finalized, you'll have no ties to him at all. There's nothing wrong with loving him, Alex."

"But everyone would know -"

Laura makes an annoyed sound in the back of her throat, as though fed up with Alex and her excuses. "Do you honestly give a bloody damn what anyone else thinks? Matt certainly doesn't so you can stop worrying about him. Don't let anyone else control what you do and whether or not you find happiness."

Alex sniffles and Laura makes a sympathetic noise, muttering about mobile chats being bad for hugs. It makes Alex smile as she drops her legs to the floor, wiping at her eyes.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine, dear," she says, and her voice is still shaky but she really does feel better. "Thank you."

"Any time." Laura hesitates. "I…I love you, you know? You're the best."

Alex beams. "Thank you, darling. I love you too."

Hanging up, Alex gently places her phone aside and stands, moving to the window again. Her mind is racing but suddenly everything is so much clearer. Matt had said there were no real guarantees in life, but that he could promise to love her. She thinks of him, of those first oblivious but memorable moments with him over a bunch of flowers, of the way he'd looked at her in the meadow through the pouring rain. She thinks of the clumsy way he dealt with her garden, and cooking and just about everything else but her. With her, he is different. Careful. She thinks of the way he holds her hand, the way he reaches for her in the middle of the night and the way the sight of his grin makes her light as air, warmth blooming in her chest and a smile on her face before she can help herself.

She loves him. But is it enough?

Sometimes you just have to go on faith.

It's been two days of pacing around his flat, not eating and thinking of not much else but Alex, waiting for her to contact him again. He hasn't shaved but Laura had come round yesterday and forced him into a shower, with the promise of a drink afterwards.

One text message – one – with two measly sentences. He supposes he should be grateful he even got that, but it isn't enough. He needs to talk to her, to hear her voice, and maybe he can convince her to forget everything David said and give them a chance.

Laura had spoken to her – he tries not to be insulted that Alex will take her calls but not his. She won't say what they talked about and it makes Matt nervous. His sister doesn't mince words and he's afraid she might have accidentally buggered up everything just by trying to help – if he hasn't done that himself already.

She needs time, Laura had said. She'll be in touch when she's ready.

Well that was yesterday, and Matt is starting to get antsy again. As he goes about making something small for lunch – if he doesn't eat, Laura will just come back and he'd rather not deal with his sister right now – he decides that if he doesn't hear from Alex today, he'll try to call her again. She probably won't pick up, but at least he'll be doing something. All this sitting around and waiting is not his forte.

A knock at the door interrupts him brooding over his untouched peanut butter sandwich and he welcomes the distraction, abandoning his food and scrambling for the door. In his haste, he trips over a discarded boot in the middle of the floor, catches himself on an umbrella stand, kicks the boot aside and straightens, tugging at his t-shirt as he swings open his front door. As soon as he does, he has to grip the doorframe to keep himself upright, his legs suddenly useless.

Alex stands in front of him, looking anxious but lovely. She isn't wearing her grey cocktail dress, so he assumes she must have gone out and bought new clothes because according to Laura, she hasn't been back to David's to pick up her things. Her dark hair falls in perfect ringlets around her shoulders, wild as ever. He can't help but beam at the sight of her because there is nothing like finally seeing the person you've been missing like a phantom limb.

"Alex."

She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, as if gathering strength. "I'm not living with you."

He stares, trying to stamp down the hope welling up in his chest because he doesn't know anything yet. "…Alright."

"I got a call from a university nearby," she says, looking at him tentatively. "They're offering me a job in their art department. So I'll get my own flat and if we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly."

There is no pushing away the hope now, and it floods through his whole being, rushing through his very veins and lighting him up from within. "You-you mean…you want to try?"

Alex bites her lip. "I talked to your sister two days ago. We had a chat and I realized that you're rather wonderful and I don't want to lose you, guarantee or no guarantee." She swallows audibly. "I love you."

Eyes wet and smiling so wide his cheeks ache, he reaches for her but stops, pulling his hand back. "Then why did you wait two days to come to me?"

"I was giving you a chance," she says softly.

"Chance?"

"To change your mind."

"Oh Alex," he breathes, taking her hand and pulling her into his arms, so relieved when she leans into him. "Never."

Pulling back to look up at him, she says tearfully, "I don't have any money. I was caught cheating too. I mean, I got a little something since I could prove your father was unfaithful first but it's nothing -"

He shakes his head, frustrated. "I don't care. I never cared about money, Alex. What are you going on about?"

She bites her lip. "Matt, you're taking a very high profile job. What about the press? They'll find out about this and it will be everywhere. What if you lose your job or -"

"Shh," he says. "Not going to happen." He slides his hand down her spine, settling on the small of her back and tugging her against him. Alex tries to protest but he doesn't let her, bending his head and capturing her mouth with his. She doesn't struggle, parting her lips under his and sliding her arms around his neck, melting against him like snow under the loving gaze of the spring sun. Matt smiles against her mouth and nothing has ever felt more right.

"It's going to be alright," he says, kissing the corner of her lips. "You'll see."

She slides her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, meeting his eyes with a shake of her head. "Sometimes love isn't enough, Matthew."

"It will be for us." He presses his forehead to hers and smiles. "Take a leap of faith with me?"

Tracing a hand over his cheekbone and under his jaw line, her fingers brushing over two day old stubble, Alex smiles. "I think I'd leap anywhere with you."

"Does that include a bed?" He asks nuzzling his nose against her cheek and he just can't stop smiling. "Because my god, I have missed you."

She laughs, pulling away to look at him with wet eyes. "I said anywhere, didn't I?"

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	10. Chapter 10

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/1861536.

Rating:

Explicit

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Stats:

Published: 2014-06-28 Completed: 2014-08-30 Chapters: 10/10

Words: 44728

 **these fragments i have shored against my ruins**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

She doesn't smell like citrus and flowers anymore. She smells like dirt and sweat and death, just like everything does these days, but she still hugs like Alex – with her whole body and her whole heart, her small hands still cling to his neck and oh god, he thought he would never see her again.

Notes

Story title from The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot. Chapter title from Runaway by The National.

there's no saving anything

He's walking back from his daily scavenge for food when he hears a noise from the burnt out building on the corner of Dering and Bond streets. It sounds like one of them and he almost hurries his steps to get away before it notices him, one hand tightening around the small bag filled with food he'd managed to find for himself and the others. He drops his other hand to the gun stuffed into the waistband of his trousers. He hears another noise – the distressed shout of a woman who hadn't been lucky enough to go unnoticed.

Swearing under his breath, Matt pulls out his handgun and makes a dash for the shell of what used to be a teashop, once upon a time. He remembers coming here before – well, just before – with Kaz and Arthur, catching up after filming for Who ended. He used to meet his sister here for brunch. Now, the windows are shattered and the inside has been ravaged, everything that could possibly be used stolen by scavengers like him. What's left is a hollowed out husk, nothing but broken glass and weeds growing up out of the cracked floor, nature starting to take over in place of man.

Matt creeps inside, still holding tightly to his food bag with one hand, and follows the noise of a struggle all the way to the back of the shop, where a woman with red, bushy hair shrinks into the corner against the wall, lobbing whatever she can reach at the creature clawing at her leg and hissing. Tears roll down her dirty cheeks as she kicks out fiercely but Matt knows it's no use – the thing is toying with her. It could have snapped her in two by now.

Before it gets the chance, he lifts his gun hand, aims, and waits until the woman's head is no longer in the line of fire before he shoots. He'll never get used to the dying groan of the damned things – like a final call to the others. They'll no doubt be along shortly, hungry for human flesh.

Currently splattered in blood and still crying, the woman doesn't move, staring in shock as the infected falls to its knees, gives one last dying gasp before collapsing at her feet, dead. Moving quickly, Matt hisses as he approaches her, "Don't just stand there. Come on."

She gapes at him, green eyes wide, and the same moment he realizes just who he's looking at, she whispers, "Matt?"

He stops in his tracks, staring at her with his heart in his throat. He hasn't seen her since before everything went to hell – that last scene they filmed together, that precious goodbye kiss he hadn't realized would truly be their last. She's thinner, covered in layers of dirt, her curls no longer shining ringlets around her face but instead a frizzy, unkempt mess but he'd know those eyes and that nose anywhere. "My god. Alex? Sweetheart, is that you?"

His soft spoken words seems to undo her entirely, as if she is no longer used to such tenderness from anyone and can only crumble when faced with any kindness at all. She bursts into tears and Matt drops everything – the food bag, his gun, any concerns about who might be coming for them if they stay out here in the open any longer – and reaches for her. Pulling her from her hiding place, he gathers her into his arms and shushes her softly, burying his face in her hair.

She doesn't smell like citrus and flowers anymore. She smells like dirt and sweat and death, just like everything does these days, but she still hugs like Alex – with her whole body and her whole heart, her small hands still cling to his neck and oh god, he thought he would never see her again. He thought he'd lost her, along with Kaz and Arthur, along with his family. He thought he would never hold Alex Kingston again.

He used to lie awake at night, wondering what had happened to her, if she'd perished during the initial outbreak or later, from the infection. If she'd become one of the very beings he fought against every day. If she'd holed up somewhere dark and dank only to die of exposure or starvation or both. He has tortured himself with thoughts of her fate for nearly two years and here she is – safe and whole and in his arms, her tears seeping into his ratty shirt.

He strokes a hand through her hair, shutting his eyes when they begin to sting. Alex curls her hands into his shirt, sniffling. "I thought I would never see you again. I've been so alone, darling. I've lost -" She chokes on the words and he shakes his head, holding her tighter.

"It's alright, Kingston," he soothes. "Everything is alright now. I've got you."

Outside, an echoing chorus of howls sends a shiver down his spine. Alex tenses in his arms and he instinctively grips her to his side, reaching once more for his gun. "Oh god, you've got to go. They're coming."

"I'm not leaving without you, Kingston. Have you lost the plot?"

"But -"

He shuts her up with a fierce, biting kiss, his hands cupping her dirt-streaked face and his thumbs stroking soft, tanned skin. She whimpers, clinging to him like he's her life raft and she's adrift at sea. "You're coming with me," he breathes when they part. "And that's the end of it."

Alex nods shakily, offering him a grateful, trembling smile.

Shoving the food bag at her, he waits for her to shoulder it before he takes her hand and grips it tight. They'll get back to base together. He'll feed her his ration for the day and give her his blanket and god, share a cot with her if he has to but there is no way in hell he is ever letting her out of his sight again.

Outside, the growling grows closer. Matt's stomach tightens in anticipation, adrenaline beginning to pump through his veins. He glances at Alex, smiling at her wide eyes. "On the count of three," he says.

Her gaze drifts to the gun clenched in his hand and she sets her jaw, eyes flashing. "One."

"Two."

"Three."

The infected are waiting outside when they burst through the door, crouched low on the ground and snarling like savages. Matt fires off two shots into the heads of the pair closest to him – the only way anyone has found to truly kill them – and doesn't have time to revel in the victory before the other two make a leap for him and Alex. She doesn't cower, raising the heavy food bag and using it to knock one of them away from her.

Using his free arm, Matt tugs her behind him, shielding her from the clawing, grasping hands as they stumble back away from them. He feels her warm, shallow breath on the back of his neck and her fingers curling into his shirt, fisting the material in her hand. "Stay behind me," he orders, lifting his gun again as the creatures start to limp forward. The little bastards are putting on a show, like he's never seen them before and has no idea what they're capable of – as if he'll be fooled by this slow, shuffling act. He's seen them in action. He knows they can run faster than any human, faster than his mother and his sister could ever have hoped to be. He knows their reflexes are super human and that if he isn't careful, he could lose his gun in the blink of an eye.

He tightens his grip and flexes his finger against the trigger, momentarily distracted by Alex stumbling behind him, tripping over wreckage in the middle of the war-torn street as she walks backwards. She recovers without slamming into the ground but that split-second was all it took for them to focus on her instead – the weak link. Their odd, blank eyes zero in on her, heads tilted, and then before Matt can react, they lunge.

Alex screams.

He fires instantly, more panicked than he's been since the very first attack three years ago, and misses. His shot hits the shoulder of one of them and it shrieks in pain but does not die, and he fires again, forcing himself to ignore Alex's cries behind him and willing his shaking hand to steady. His next shot hits the damned thing right in the center of its forehead.

"Matt!"

Whirling, he sees Alex on the ground, barely managing to fend off the last one, kicking wildly and still clutching that food bag to her chest – a precious commodity she stubbornly refuses to give up. Tears stream down her face as she fights it off and the infected grabs at her with a long, spindly hand. Matt sees red, throwing himself at them both and knocking the thing off Alex.

It roars as he shoves it to the ground and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex scrambling to her feet once more, shaken but safe. He relaxes, hands wrapping around its throat as they both roll around in the dirt, snapping and snarling at each other as they struggle for dominance. It bares its teeth – sharp, gleaming and already slicked with the blood of someone else, like a warning for what's coming. Matt's blood turns cold. One scrape of its teeth would break his skin and there would be no saving him then. There still isn't a cure for the infection.

He can hear Alex screaming his name as she hovers behind him, afraid to come any closer only to get in his way. He wants to reassure her that he'll be fine, that he's dealt with these things more any one person ever should and still managed to walk away but the sound of her voice draws the attention of the infected. It lifts its head and those blank, unseeing eyes land right on her.

Matt growls, wrapping his long legs around the its emaciated waist, and flips them, pinning the creature to the ground with every bit of strength in his body. Breathing hard as it thrashes and snarls beneath him, Matt presses the muzzle of his gun to its forehead and looks into black eyes utterly devoid of life or feeling. The disease it carries has taken so much from him, from everyone he knows. They've all lost so much. Family, friends, so many children, who they used to be before all this. Everything.

"Not Alex," he grits out, teeth clenched.

It licks its lips, blood on its tongue.

Matt squeezes the trigger.

The dying wail echoes in the streets and he shudders, glancing away. As hard as it is to see it now, that thing used to be a human being. Someone's baby, someone's lover, someone's friend. He slides his gun back into the waistband of his trousers and tries not to think about how many of his own friends he's probably killed without even knowing it.

"Matt?"

He glances up sharply and finds Alex hovering, her whole frame shaking as she looks at him worriedly and my god, she looks nothing like his Alex – all curls and curves, laughter and naughty grins. She looks like she's been through hell and back and he wonders what he must look like to her. Probably much the same. They are none of them who they used to be.

"Are you alright?" She nods, holding out a hand to him, and he takes it, letting her help him to his feet. "Let me see you." The moment he's upright, he takes her by the shoulders and begins to inspect her frantically, checking her torn clothing, beneath her hair, her bare skin, anywhere at all where a scratch or a bite might be. "Are you sure?"

She nods again, taking his face in her hands, and he stops his frenzied search long enough to look into her eyes. They don't sparkle the way they used to but there's just enough of a glimmer of humor in her gaze to make his breathing hitch in relief. "I'm not hurt," she promises softly. "Are you?"

He shakes his head silently, still staring, and feels a lump form in his throat. Leaning in, he presses a soft, firm kiss to her forehead, one hand clutching her grimy hair. "I'm fine," he swears. Now that you're here.

Base is an underground compound just outside of London. It started off small and unassuming; just a little hole in the ground, but now it's an entire network of complexes beneath the earth – brick and mortar taken from the underground. No one uses the trains anymore anyway. It's teeming with people, survivors who have nowhere else to go and just want to feel safe. Matt leads Alex through security, nodding to those on guard, and flexes his fingers in her tight grip. "Don't worry," he says under his breath as he tugs her along. "You'll be safe here."

She flashes him a small smile full of anxiety that says she probably can't even remember what safe feels like. He'll remind her. Every day and every chance he gets, he'll make Alex Kingston's safety his priority. She's all he has now and by the look on her face when he found her, he's all she has too.

Winding through corridors, he makes his way first to the makeshift canteen, where food is distributed and eaten. It's after mealtime and the room is mostly deserted save for Harry, perusing a three-year-old newspaper, tattered and creased from frequent rereading. He looks up when Matt gently pushes Alex into the room, brow furrowed, and Matt lifts a hand in greeting but doesn't bother with an explanation yet.

He leads Alex to one the tables they'd managed to procure from the wreckage and while it's battered and the wood is crumbling, it still serves its purpose. He pushes her gently to sit and she does so without a word, glancing around her with wide eyes. "Was this all here before?"

He shakes his head, depositing the food bag on the table and rummaging through it. "There are a few bunkers round here that apocalypse nutters -" He stops, frowning. They hadn't been so nuts though, had they? "The, erm, the believers built long before it ever happened. But those were mostly for individual use – families and the like. This one's pretty massive by comparison."

Alex hums in agreement, still blinking at her surroundings like a peasant brought to Buckingham Palace. He wonders when she last had the luxury of sitting down at a table to a meal, safe in the knowledge that nothing was coming to harm her or the last time she could lay her head down at night on a real pillow without constantly listening for noises in the dark. He wonders how long she's been alone. Unable to help himself, he reaches out a hand to touch her cheek. She flinches as if on instinct but when he goes to pull away and apologize, she grasps his hand tightly in hers, leaning her cheek into his palm. "Thank you."

He shrugs, blinking away the sudden sting in his eyes, and Alex releases his hand to let him sort through the bag once more. Pulling out a tin of soup and a small bag of crisps, he hands them both to her. "Not exactly gourmet but -"

"No, it's more than I've had in a while, darling." She takes the food from him quickly, as if he might take it away from her if she doesn't move fast enough. He eyes her thin frame with an ache in his chest, unable to stop himself from comparing the Alex in front of him with the Alex he remembers – perfect curves and glorious arse he always had trouble keeping his eyes off of.

"I'll try to get you something else," he promises softly. "Something a little more filling."

She shakes her head, opening the can of soup slowly, her hands shaking. "This is perfect, Matt. Really."

He bites back a reply, silently determined to see the return of the Alex he remembers. He'll slip

her extra rations when he can, find her extra little treats when he goes out looking for food – anything to fill out her too-thin frame once more. Stroking a hand over her knotted hair, he says, "Sit here and eat, then. I'm going talk to Harry -" She looks up with wide eyes and he manages a tight smile at the panic he sees on her face. "He's just over there." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, feeling Harry's eyes on his back. "I'm not leaving, I swear."

"Right, sorry." Alex glances away, staring into her tin of soup with a frown. "Go wherever you need to. I'll be fine."

With one last press of his lips to her temple, he leaves her to eat in peace, turning on his heel and starting for Harry across the room. Paper long since abandoned, Harry eyes him with suspicion, wary gaze occasionally drifting behind him where Alex sits, hunched in on herself and trembling. Matt sinks into the seat opposite his best mate and sighs, threading his fingers through his hair.

Harry arches a brow. "What are you doing? You can't just pick up random birds and bring them back to base. Has she even seen the doctor yet? She could be infected and Christ knows what else -"

"She's not a random bird, idiot," he says, lifting his head to glare. "She's Alex Kingston."

Instantly, his gaze leaps to Alex sitting a few tables away from them, devouring her soup like a starving animal. She doesn't look much like the woman she used to be but something of her old self must shine through because after a few more brief moments of study, Harry's eyes widen.

"My god."

Matt nods, rubbing at his temple with two fingers. "Found her inside that old teashop on Dering and Bond – but not before one of those things found her first."

Harry scrubs a hand over his face, raking his fingers through his mess of blonde hair. "Jesus, she alright?"

"She isn't infected, if that's what you mean. They scanned her when I brought her in."

Harry pauses, eyeing him through his fingers. "And if that isn't what I mean?"

Matt shrugs. "We haven't spoken much about… anything. I think she's just happy to have found someone she knows."

Settling his chin in his palm, Harry raises his brows, lips twitching. "Mate -"

"Don't, Harry." Matt glances over his shoulder quickly at Alex before turning back to level his friend with a stern look. "Don't say it."

"But -"

"Stop."

He huffs. "Fine, whatever. What is she doing here?"

Matt stares at him incredulously. "Did you expect me to leave her there?"

"Of course not, idiot." Harry sighs. "I meant do we have room for her. The place isn't exactly endless and we're almost full as it is."

"I don't care." Matt sets his jaw stubbornly. "I'll give her my cot, my food, anything. She has to stay here."

Harry holds up his hands in mock complacency. "Alright, alright. I'll see about adding her to the roster."

Matt lifts his eyes to his friend and manages a grateful nod. "Thanks."

"What would you do without me?"

Harry grins blithely but Matt knows without him, he would have given up long ago. Only Harry has been with him since the very beginning – they'd been together during the initial outbreak and they haven't been parted since. Harry had helped him through the loss of his mother and father, his sister, Kaz, Arthur – everyone. Harry had forced him to keep going because Harry needed him - ever since they were kids, he has looked up to Matt, has looked to him for guidance. Matt couldn't let him down when Harry needed him most. So he kept going for Harry, and eventually,

once the grief faded to a dull pain, he found the strength to keep going for himself too. And now – now, he has another reason to go on.

Standing slowly, Harry lets his eyes drift over Matt's head to Alex once more, and his grin softens from the usual smartass arrogance into something gentler. Dropping his eyes back to Matt, he lowers his voice and says, "Do you have any idea how lucky you are? We've lost so much, mate." He swallows hard, working his jaw silently for a long moment while Matt struggles to keep his eyes from stinging. "You thought you lost her for good. I could see it in your face every single day. You thought she was dead and it was like a part of you went with her. But there she is, sitting right over there. You've got a second chance. She's alive and she's here and I just have to ask that you don't wait too long again."

Matt shakes his head. "I don't think she's looking for romance, Harry." He doesn't dare mention that hard, messy kiss he and Alex had shared back at the remnants of that teashop. He doesn't even know what it means – if it means anything – yet. And Harry would never let him hear the end of it. "I have no idea what she's been through but the years clearly haven't been kind to her."

"They haven't been kind to any of us, mate." Harry claps him on the shoulder, squeezing roughly. "All the more reason to hold onto happiness wherever we manage to find it, yeah?"

Matt nods once, pursing his lips, and Harry releases his shoulder with a sigh, turning and marching off down the hall to take care of making sure Alex has a place to stay tonight. Matt takes a moment to collect himself, breathing in deeply, before he pushes away from the table and stands, turning to face Alex. She's just finishing up her meal and he quickly reaches for the canteen Harry had left behind on the table. "Thirsty?" He asks, and Alex jumps. "Sorry. I just – I thought you might want some water."

She nods. "Please."

He hands it to her, watching her unscrew the cap and take a long, slow swig. "You can have my cot tonight until they can make better arrangements for you – I know you must be exhausted so don't even try that whole I'll just sleep on the floor bit, Kingston." He narrows his eyes at her and she sighs, taking another drink. "Now, I hope I'm not wrong in guessing you'd like to wash up before you sleep?"

She moves the canteen away from her mouth in surprise, eyes lit up. "You have showers?"

He nods, shrugging. "Only a couple but yeah. I mean, the water is freezing and the soap is horrendous but it's better than nothing, right?"

"I've had nothing and I can say with absolute certainty that anything is better than that." Alex pushes aside the canteen and stands, her eyes miles away.

Matt swallows past the lump in his throat and reaches for her hand, squeezing lightly. When she looks at him – really looks at him – he smiles and says, "I'll lead the way then." As she follows him through winding corridors, he keeps glancing at her until he realizes why she doesn't look quite like Alex. "Kingston, your hair. It's red."

She manages a small smile and a shrug. "My natural color."

He never knew that. When she was on set, it was always blonde for River and off set, she tended to color it dark. He always assumed her natural color must be somewhere in the middle. "I like it," he says, and finds that he means it. It suits her, somehow. "It's nice."

Casting a disbelieving glance at him, she touches a hand to her frizzy mane and says, "Bollocks."

He snorts and Alex shoves him away.

After he shows her where the showers are and finds a towel for her to use – small, thin, and scratchy but it gets the job done – he leaves her to scrub herself free of dirt and grime, wandering off to find her something to change into before she gets out. With Harry's help, he manages to locate some things for her to wear and he waits while she changes. When she finally wanders out of the showers dressed in the sweatpants and old t-shirt he'd given her, she looks more like his Alex, her freshly scrubbed skin pink and glistening, her curls dripping everywhere.

"How was it?" He asks, smiling at the sight of her.

She grins, wringing water from her hair. "Heavenly. Thank you, darling. I almost feel like a new person."

"Imagine what a good night's sleep will get you," he teases. "I won't even recognize you."

"Surprised you can now," she murmurs.

He tugs at a damp curl playfully. "I'd know you anywhere, Kingston."

She catches his hand in hers and squeezes. "I'm glad."

He leads her through winding, dimly lit corridors until they reach the area where the cots are kept, several rooms all in a row lined with beds. He stops in front of his own with a gesture at the pillow, where a pile of neatly folded clothes and a pair of hiking boots sit. "Found those for you to put on tomorrow. The shoes might be a bit big but it was all I could find."

She shakes her head. "Those will be perfect. All of this is -" She stops, pursing her lips as her eyes fill up. "This is so much more than I've dared to hope for in a long while. Thank you for taking such good care of me."

"Hey, always, Kingston." He smiles tightly, moving to take the clothes from her pillow and pull back the thin blanket. He helps her into bed and pulls the blanket up to her chin, stroking a hand over her cheek. "It's you and me now."

"Yes," she whispers, turning and burying her face against her pillow. "It is. Just us." She closes her eyes, brow pinched. "Your family, Matt -"

He swallows, glancing away. "Gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

"Stay with me until I fall asleep?"

He settles on the floor beside her cot and rests his chin on the thin mattress. "Try and stop me."

She inches out a hand from beneath her blanket and he clasps it in his own, watching as her expression slowly deteriorates from exhaustion to utter desolation. "I lost her, Matt," she whispers brokenly. "I lost my baby."

He rises to his knees and wraps his arms around her as she begins to sob, burying his face in her damp hair. The smell of the bunker's cheap soap clings to her curls and her skin. He misses the scent of flowers in her hair, the lightly scented perfume that always lingered on her hands and the hollow of her neck when he hugged her. "I'm so sorry, Alex," he whispers fiercely. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

"Why her, Matt?" She asks, voice thick with tears. "Why not me?"

"I don't know. But you can't do this to yourself, sweetheart. You'll drive yourself mad. And I would know, believe me." Her shoulders heave beneath his hands and he strokes a soothing palm up and down her back, humming softly. "You're going to be alright," he promises, tightening his hold on her when she shakes her head in denial. "I swear it, Kingston. One day, you'll be able to breathe again."

She curls her fingers into his t-shirt and cries herself to sleep, clinging to him all the while. Matt climbs onto the small cot beside her and does not sleep, holding her through the night and kissing her forehead when she whimpers while she dreams. He has a feeling it's been a very long time since Alex Kingston has had anyone to chase away the nightmares. He silently decides as she shakes and cries in his arms that from now on, he'd like it to be him.

there's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole

Chapter Summary

It's been two weeks since he found her and she barely eats enough to keep a bird alive. Her weight hasn't increased despite his attempts to feed her whenever he can manage, scraping some of his portion onto her plate when she isn't looking.

Chapter Notes

So you're getting this chapter a bit early because starting tomorrow I'll be without wifi over the weekend. Also, I just want to thank you guys so much for your comments, bless all your faces. I was so nervous about this fic and you've all been fantastic and encouraging. SQUISHES FOR EVERYBODY.

Chapter title taken from The Dead Weather's So Far From Your Weapon.

"You going to eat that?"

Matt glances up from his plate and finds Harry eyeing the small portion of untouched eggs on Alex's. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye and Matt can see her fingers curling around her plate, muscles tensed to push the food in his direction. "Yes," he interrupts, scowling at Harry. "She is."

Alex pauses, drops her eyes back to her plate, and starts pushing her food around again.

Across the table, Harry shrugs. "Sorry. Just hate to see food go to waste."

Matt glares. "She'll eat it."

Frowning, Harry turns back to his own food and starts shoveling it into his mouth again. One glance at Alex is enough to rob Matt of his appetite and he drops his fork with a sigh, eyeing her with concern. It's been two weeks since he found her and she barely eats enough to keep a bird alive. Her weight hasn't increased despite his attempts to feed her whenever he can manage, scraping some of his portion onto her plate when she isn't looking.

"Kingston," he ventures gently, waiting for her to lift her eyes and look at him. "You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she says.

"You haven't been hungry for days," he counters. "Are you ill?" Her eyes, dull and green, lift to his with a spark of incredulity. They both know she isn't ill. Matt swallows, holding her gaze unwaveringly until she looks down again, fidgeting uneasily. "At least finish your eggs."

She flexes her jaw stubbornly. "I'm not a child, Matt."

"Oh, I know," he assures her, smiling. "But you're going to start looking like one if you don't put

on some weight."

She snorts and mutters, "Yes, if only Hollywood could see me now. I might have actually gotten a part with this thigh gap."

"Alex -"

Ignoring him, she pushes her plate toward Harry. "I'm not hungry."

Harry glances between her and Matt silently, deliberating. "Babe, I understand you've no appetite," he finally says slowly. "I certainly didn't for a long time after…" He trails off, blinks away a memory, and clears his throat. "I get it, yeah? But you're worrying our dear idiot, here, and neither of us will have a moment's peace until you eat these bloody eggs. Humor him, for god's sake." Alex stares as Harry shoves the plate back at her. He drops his eyes meaningfully to her rapidly congealing eggs and says, "Go on then. Just enough to shut him up."

With one last suspicious glance at Harry, Alex grudgingly picks up her fork. Matt and Harry return to their plates, pretending they aren't watching her every move, and both let out a collective breath of relief the moment she takes a bite. As she chews slowly, Matt offers Harry a quick, grateful nod and Harry shrugs, going back to devouring his scant breakfast.

"Going out today?" He asks around a mouthful.

"In about an hour," Matt says, sipping the utter shite that passes for coffee in the compound and watching Alex take another bite out of the corner of his eye. He sees her perk up at their topic of conversation and hurriedly turns his attention back to Harry. "Hoping I might bring back dinner. I'm getting bloody sick of simulated meatloaf and tinned beans."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "My god, I'd face an infected for a bite of squirrel."

"Or a decent pillow," Matt grumbles. "Or a blanket that doesn't itch."

"Chocolate."

"A radio."

"Books."

"Real tea."

"Sex."

"Harry!"

"What?" He glances at Alex. "Oh, sorry."

She ignores him, her focus solely on Matt. "Can I go?"

"What, with me?" He shakes his head hurriedly. "Oh no, Kingston. No way. It's too dangerous."

"I've been out there before -"

"Yeah, and you were almost killed, if you recall," he replies with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. "That infected almost had you before I showed up and saved your arse."

Alex flinches. "No one asked you to save me."

He drops his fork, gaping at her. "What the hell kind of response is that? What did you want me to do, leave you there?"

Shrugging, she drops her eyes back to plate and lifts another forkful of eggs to her mouth, mumbling, "Maybe you should have."

He stares at her in silence, feeling like someone just kicked him in the chest.

Harry elbows her gently and murmurs, "Not cool, Alex."

At his tone of disapproval, she glances up again and finds Matt pale and stricken, gazing at her unblinkingly. Softening, she shakes her head, wayward curls slipping from her haphazard ponytail. "I'm sorry, Matt. I – I didn't mean it."

She had.

They both know it.

He swallows, nodding silently. "Sure."

"I just – I'm tired of sitting here all day." She bites her lip. "I want to go out."

"How would you even defend yourself? You don't know how to use a gun, you're thin enough a bloody strong wind could knock you over – I can't risk you, Alex." Matt shakes his head, lips pressed firmly together. And even if she could defend herself, he's starting to get the feeling she wouldn't try. He never realized until now just how little fight is left in her eyes. He'll keep her here the rest of her life if it means she'll be safe – from the infected and from herself.

"So you get to go out and see the sun and I'm stuck here underground?" She asks bitingly. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Sign up for rotations," Harry suggests. "We could always use help in the kitchen and with laundry, cleaning the bathrooms. Might be better to start there anyway – probably have a riot on our hands if the newest survivor gets to go out and scavenge with Matt. Don't want to piss anyone off." He grins, raising his eyebrows playfully at her. "Yet."

Alex deflates, frowning at her plate, and Matt is both jealous and appreciative of Harry's strange ability to influence her thinking and change her mind. "Please, Kingston," he pleads quietly. "Just stay here. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you."

Finally, through gritted teeth, Alex says, "Fine."

Matt sighs quietly in relief.

"But you're going alone?"

"Usually always do."

"That can't be safe either." She frowns and a part of him can't help being thrilled at the concern. They haven't even come close to kissing again since he found her two weeks ago. He doesn't want to push her. She climbs into his cot most nights, seeking solace from the nightmares, but nothing ever happens. He's been learning to be patient. "Who's going to keep you from tripping to your death or something?"

"Oi!"

Her eyes flicker with the faintest hint of amusement and his heart skips a beat. "You need looking after."

"I'll volunteer." Harry slings an arm around her shoulders and winks at Matt. "I can look after your sweetheart, Alex."

She looks faintly embarrassed but doesn't protest. Matt feels hope flare in his chest and ducks his head to study his plate, hiding a smile.

He gets back later than he'd intended and most everyone is asleep as he slinks through the dark room and fumblingly makes his way to his cot, wanting nothing but to collapse onto it and not move for hours. Except, when he finds his bed, it's already occupied.

Blinking tiredly, Matt peers into the dark. "Alex?"

Curled into a ball, her head on his pillow, she stirs. "Matt?" She gasps quietly, sitting up. "Where have you been? You should have been back ages ago!"

Shrugging, he sinks down onto the edge of his cot and begins to tug off his boots. "Got caught up."

He can feel her eyes narrowing. "Caught up in what?"

"Found a really gorgeous infected. Shagged her for hours."

"Not funny."

"Tits weren't the best I'd ever seen and she wasn't much of a conversationalist but -"

"Matt."

He snorts. "A bunch of them found me and Harry – more than we could handle by ourselves. We had to hide for a few hours until they went away. But we're fine, I promise."

She sighs, clearly swallowing back several remarks, and finally decides on, "Did you find anything?"

"Not really." He slides under the blanket and Alex moves over to make room but they still wind up pressed right against each other, the swell of her breasts flush against his chest. He fights back a shudder. "The usual – tinned food, clothes, shoes, condoms."

"Condoms? What on earth are you scavenging condoms for?"

"Because apocalypse or not, people still want to have sex, Kingston," he says, struggling not to physically react to either her closeness or this conversation. "They'd just like the luxury of not bringing a kid into this hell, yeah?"

Her breathing hitches. "Oh."

He smoothes her hair from her forehead and presses a kiss there. "Get some sleep."

Settling in more snugly against him, her head on his chest and one leg between his, Alex sighs as he wraps an arm around her waist and buries his face in her hair. "I signed up for rotations," she whispers. "I start in the morning."

He toys with a curl tickling his cheek and nods. "You'll be glad you did," he promises softly. "It'll keep you busy."

"That's what I'm counting on."

He opens his mouth to respond but his eyes have grown so heavy, and his tongue feels like a lead weight in his mouth. His eyes drift shut and he inhales deeply, breathing in the unmistakable scent of Alex as sleep takes him.

In the morning, she's gone and Matt wakes still scrunched up on his side of the small cot, as if his body anticipated her return. He waits for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling, before finally rousing himself and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to put on his boots. "Another day in dystopia," he mutters.

He isn't going out today so he decides to spend his time looking after some of the orphans in the other sector. Children were left without mothers and fathers after the outbreaks and they'd taken in as many as they could find but unfortunately, that hadn't been many. There were so few survivors. But his favorite days are ones he gets to spend with the kids. They remind him that not all is lost – there is still a future. He works every day to make sure of it, for them.

"Matty!"

He breaks into a wide grin as he steps into the room and two little girls squeal, running toward him. They're the youngest of the orphans and he tends to dote on them whenever he can. They throw themselves at his legs and he almost stumbles, laughing as he bends to scoop up one and settle her on his hip. The older children hang back, watching him with smiles but willing to wait their turn.

"Here are my favorite girls! Have you been behaving?"

Fiddling with his hair, Holly nods solemnly. "We've been very good. Cause you said we'd get a surprise next time."

He laughs. "Oh, I did, didn't I?"

Still clinging to his legs, Olive tugs at his trousers. "Did you bring it?"

"Bring what?"

She huffs. "The surprise!"

"Oh!" He feigns confusion and pats his pockets. "Where did I put it?" Out of the corner of his eye, he spots the dark-skinned little nymph constantly lurking in the background when he visits, too hesitant to approach but always wanting to join in. "Grace!" He says jovially, watching her eyes widen. "Have you seen my surprise?"

The five-year-old shakes her head silently, blushing at the attention.

Olive tugs on his trousers again, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "We saw you bring in a lady."

Matt stops looking for their surprise and puts Holly back on her feet before settling on the floor, allowing Olive to clamber onto his lap. Grace lingers just outside of his grasp, still unsure around just about everyone, including him. Holly climbs onto his back and wraps her arms around his neck, hanging off him like a little monkey. For a three-year-old, she's surprisingly agile. Matt struggles to breathe as her small hands nearly crush his windpipe, reaching up to grasp her hands so she can hold into his fingers instead. "Yes, I did bring in a lady."

Olive prods his knee. "Was she okay?"

He nods.

"She's not gonna be -" Olive makes the scariest face she can muster, the freckles around her eyes and nose scrunching up, and curls her hands into claws.

Matt struggles between horror and the urge to laugh. "No, she's not infected," he reassures them. "That was my friend Alex. I knew her before… before we all came to live here."

"Is she nice?" Holly asks, still trying to climb his back, her little voice right in his ear.

"She's lovely," he says.

"How come you didn't bring her here?"

He sighs. "Because I didn't think it would be good for her right now."

"Why not?"

"Because she used to have a little girl too," he says softly.

Olive bites her lip. "Did she get infected?"

"Yes, I think so." Alex has never told him and he could never bring himself to ask. He doesn't want to know what happened to little Sal, who used to smile shyly at him and squeal with glee when he tickled her. "I think seeing you all would make Alex miss her own little girl. And I don't want to make her sad."

"Is it cause you love her?"

He sputters. "What?"

Olive crosses her arms and regards him suspiciously. "Is she your girlfriend, Matty?"

"Blimey, all these questions," he laughs, cheeks turning pink. "Have you been rehearsing this little interrogation?"

Holly giggles. "She's just askin' cause she wants to be your girlfriend."

Olive stamps her foot. "I do not!"

Grinning, Matt reaches behind him and grasps Holly by her arms, turning her upside down and yanking her over his shoulder and onto his lap, delighting in her shriek of laughter. "You're all my best girls, yeah? Now come on, help me figure out how to play with this thing -" He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a baby doll. It's missing an eye and its clothes are charred but it's the only toy they've had since he found a few Barbies nearly a year ago.

Holly and Olive scream in delight, bouncing around and scrambling to take it from him first. "Oi, share!" He laughs, leaving them to fight it out as he rummages through his satchel again. Still standing off to the side and watching everyone quietly, Grace makes no attempt to play with the doll but he can see she wants to. "C'mere, Gracie."

She starts at the name, turning to blink at him with wide eyes.

He grins. "Yeah, you. Come here."

Warily, she approaches him, hands folded behind her back.

Putting a finger to his lips, he winks at her and pulls out raggedy cloth doll, limp in his grasp. It's dirty and the yarn hair is colorless and singed but Grace lights up. "Our little secret," he says, and pushes it into her small hands.

Biting her lip, she squashes the doll to her chest and scurries off, probably to squirrel it away where the other children won't find it. Matt watches her go with a sigh, wishing there was some way to pull her out of her shell. Grace is different though – just old enough to remember her parents but not quite old enough to understand how to cope with the loss. He'll just have to keep trying.

By the time he leaves the kids and goes back to his own sector, it's almost time for dinner. One quick glance in the canteen reveals that Alex and Harry aren't there yet and he grips the strap of his satchel, going off in search of them. It takes a bit of asking around but eventually he finds both of them sitting on the floor in the armory together and talking quietly. Arms wrapped around her legs drawn up to her chest, Alex watches Harry polish the rifle balanced on his knees with enough interest to spark Matt's suspicion.

"Could I use one of these?"

Harry shrugs. "If you're authorized, sure. Security's pretty tight otherwise."

Her eyes flicker from Harry's face and back to the gun, and the look of pure want on her face makes Matt's stomach clench. "How do you get authorized?"

"Paperwork, lessons, mental evaluation." Harry ticks the list off with his fingers, glancing up with narrowed eyes. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugs. "Just curious."

Harry eyes her like he doesn't believe her for a second. "Alex, look. I know things haven't been easy for you -"

"I'm fine, Harry." She smiles brightly but it doesn't come close to reaching her eyes. "Really."

Deciding now is as good a time as any to reveal himself, Matt clears his throat and watches them both jump, turning to the doorway. "Blimey, such guilty looks," he teases. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nah, we finished ages ago, mate." Harry winks at Alex, who shoves half-heartedly at him, her smile a little more genuine now.

"Feel like a nightcap then?"

Harry snorts. "Don't be a bastard."

"Who's being a bastard?" Matt lifts the bottle of wine from his satchel with a smirk. "Look what I found yesterday."

Alex giggles and Harry's eyes widen comically. "Oh, you prick. How did you - I was with you the whole time!"

"I have my ways," Matt boasts, grinning. "Shall we take this somewhere we won't be mobbed?"

Harry hops to his feet and snatches the bottle from him, cradling it to his chest like a long lost child. "Hello," he coos. "Daddy missed you."

Rolling his eyes, Matt steps forward to reach out a hand, helping Alex to her feet. She laces their fingers together, avoiding his gaze even as she lingers near him, the heat of her body warming his side. "Where to then?" She asks.

He and Harry exchange a glance. "Surveillance?"

"Surveillance."

During dinner hour, the security of the surveillance room is subpar at best. Harry goes first, making a bit of a racket to distract from Matt slipping into the room with Alex clinging to his hand, both of them hurrying up the ladder in the back of the room to reach the balcony overlooking the video feed – well, not so much a balcony as an unfinished ledge just wide enough to sit on. The bunker corridors and the area surrounding their hideout outside are monitored at all times and from the ledge, they can see every screen. It makes for splendid entertainment if one can sneak in.

Hunkering down with Alex, Matt pulls out the bottle and uncorks it with his pocketknife, passing the wine to her so she can have a drink before Harry clambers up and monopolizes their only source of alcohol. "Do you two do this often?" Alex asks, looking amused.

Matt grins, watching her take a slow sip, her eyes fluttering as she swallows. "Only when we can find a bottle in the wreckage. Doesn't happen as often as we'd like."

"And you never share it with the others?" She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and passes him the bottle. Below, they can hear Harry scrambling up the ladder, cursing under his breath.

"I consider it my reward," he reasons. "For risking my neck for a bit of tinned food."

Heaving himself up onto the balcony as Matt takes a long pull from the bottle, relishing the burn of warm wine down his throat, Harry scowls. "Oi, started without me, have you?"

"Shut up and drink." Matt shoves the bottle at him.

On the video feed, they watch people line up in the canteen for dinner.

Harry squints at the screen. "What's the delicacy tonight? Rat?"

"You wish." Matt snorts, elbowing him into passing the bottle back to Alex.

She takes a small sip, idly scanning the monitors until her eyes alight on something interesting. She stiffens, her whole frame going taut, and Matt steals a concerned glance, following her line of sight until he sees what she's staring at. In a deserted corridor in the neighboring sector of the compound, Holly and Olive are hopping about with their new toy, taking turns dancing the doll around.

Matt presses a hand to her knee. "Alex?"

She doesn't take her eyes off the screen. "There are children here?"

"Some."

"How many?"

He sighs. "About a dozen."

Her eyes fill up. "So few."

"There are likely more," he soothes. "In other shelters."

"Not enough." She curls her fingers around the neck of the bottle and lifts it to her lips, taking another longer sip. Usually a selfish prick when it comes to their precious few drops of alcohol, Harry even doesn't object.

Alex passes it back to them and looks away from the monitor, managing a smile. For a while, Matt thinks she might actually be okay and the more she drinks, the more affectionate she becomes. She snuggles into his side and holds his hand, presses numerous kisses to the line of his jaw, her breath warm and wine-scented when she leans in. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her close, remembering how giggly she used to get when she'd had too much to drink. He remembers late nights in their shared flats in Cardiff, Alex warm and laughing in his arms as they danced clumsily to some record Darvill put on. She was constantly touching him, flirting obscenely. He was always tempted, always longed to just kiss her sober. He never did.

"You know, I think I might actually murder someone for a fag," Harry muses aloud. "I mean, literally."

Matt rolls his eyes. "Just roll your own, for Christ's sake."

"Still need bleedin' tobacco, don't I?" Harry scowls, scratching in annoyance at his scruffy cheek.

"They're sending a party out in a few weeks for supplies at the next shelter. Go with them – never know what they might have."

"Or," Harry holds up a hand, his blue eyes slightly unfocused. "You could stop scouting for tins of food and bloody prioritize -"

They both pause in the middle of bickering at the sound of a sniffle, slowly turning their heads. Alex sits staring at her lap, bottle of wine clutched to her chest and tears streaming down her face. She doesn't seem to be aware of either of them anymore, just sitting there and crying silently.

Carefully, Matt reaches out and pries the bottle from her, handing it wordlessly to Harry. Taking Alex's hand, he says softly, "Come on, sweetheart. It's time for bed."

He goes down the ladder first and the last thing he sees before disappearing down the ledge is Harry downing the last few drops and watching them leave with pity. Alex follows right behind him, climbing a bit clumsily, and Matt hovers beneath her in hopes of being able to catch her should she lose her footing. She manages admirably until she reaches the bottom, when her knees give out from under her.

As he scoops her up, stomach twisting at how light she is, Alex's head droops to his shoulder as she slurs, "M'sorry, darling. M'sorry."

He shakes his head, carrying her out of the surveillance room amidst stares, and out into the dim corridor. "My fault, Kingston," he says. "Never should have let you drink on an empty stomach."

Still crying, she mumbles, "I'm not hungry."

"I know." He tightens his grip on her, slipping into their sleeping quarters and navigating around all the occupied cots. "You never are anymore."

He walks right past her cot and carries her to his, pulling back the blanket and slipping her beneath it. She curls up into a tight ball, sniffling. Matt settles on the edge of the cot and watches her grimly, brushing the hair from her face. She looks less and less like his Alex as the days go by. He thought she would get better here. He thought he could be for her what he'd been for Harry.

Stomach wrenching, Matt leans down to brush a kiss across her forehead. Already asleep, she doesn't stir. His mind drifts back to where he'd found her earlier in the armory, looking at the gun in Harry's possession with a twisted sort of lust. He'd wanted to pull her away, to shield her from her own thoughts. "Not on my watch, Kingston," he promises. "You're safe with me. Even from yourself."

we'll find our own way home somehow

Chapter Summary

"Some people are making an overnight trip to another bunker for supplies," she says. "I volunteered to go with them."

He blinks, mouth hardening into a thin, stubborn line. "Out of the question."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Papillon by the Editors.

After another morning of watching Alex push her breakfast around her plate and eventually give it to Harry, Matt leaves the canteen early, hands balled into fists and jaw clenched. Every day, she grows thinner. Her collarbones and her cheekbones have gained a sharp prominence that was never there before. Alex was always soft curves and now she is all angles and jutting bones. Watching her deteriorate right in front of him is enough to make him sick to his stomach.

He spends a few hours in the armory, inspecting the guns and making sure they have plenty of ammunition, checking up on people who have taken out a gun and haven't returned it yet. He feels a bit like a librarian but the mindless work is just what he needs to stop worrying about Alex for a while. Several people come in to take a few guns and some extra ammunition and Matt spends a lot of time helping them sign out the weapons. They've slowly stockpiled their arsenal and the supply they have is precious – they do their best to make sure it always returns to them. Part of that is always knowing who has what.

By the time the large party leaves, he feels calm enough to wander back to his friends. As he makes his way to his sleeping quarters in hopes of finding Alex, he discovers the corridors a sea of activity. The same people who had checked out guns earlier are bustling about with knapsacks, packing extra rations, water, and clothes. He has no idea what they're doing and he doesn't care to ask until he finally makes his way to his cot and finds Alex already there, in the middle of packing. The sleeping quarters are empty, as they usually are during the day. People have too many chores to tend to – napping is a luxury not many can afford.

Matt stops just short of reaching her, staring as she stuffs a canteen of water into her ragged knapsack, right next to the only other set of clothes she has – a pair of holey jeans and a white, oil-stained t-shirt. "Kingston?"

She jumps, turning to glance at him over her shoulder with wide eyes. "Matt," she says, sounding startled. He watches her try to maneuver her knapsack out of his line of sight. "You scared me."

He doesn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

Her back stiffens and she turns away again. He watches her continue to adjust the few belongings she has, her shoulders a tense line. "Some people are making an overnight trip to another bunker for supplies," she says lightly. "I volunteered to go with them."

He blinks, mouth hardening into a thin, stubborn line. "Out of the question."

Alex snorts out a quiet laugh of disbelief and stops fiddling with her bag. Turning to face him with a look of incredulity, she places a hand on her hip – no longer soft and rounded, but as angular as Kaz used to be. "I don't believe I asked for your permission, Matt."

"I don't care," he says, standing a little taller and looking her in the eye. "I'm not letting you go with them."

"And why not?" She glares. "Not that you can stop me."

"You're not ready."

"And since when is that for you to decide? You don't own me, Matt -" She stops, tears welling in her eyes. "I need to get out of here. I have to."

He shakes his head, eyes stinging, and purses his lips. He knows she's been doing her best to keep herself occupied. She's been doing her rotations faithfully and while it keeps her busy physically, her mind isn't occupied the way it needs to be. She performs her duties with her thoughts elsewhere – on Salome, on everything that she has been through and everything that she has lost. She isn't getting any better like this. But he can't let her go now, not when she's still so quiet and still grieving so deeply. She hasn't eaten properly since the first night she arrived. One swipe of an infected's arm would be enough to snap her in two.

What truly worries him is more than that. It's the hollowness of her eyes. That light that used to shine from Alex like some sort of internal radiance is gone, sapped away along with the fight in her. She never fights him anymore. If he asks her to eat another bite, she will, chewing mindlessly. If he tells her to get some sleep, she closes her eyes like an obedient doll. There is no life left in

Alex and until he sees it again, he can't let her out of his sight and he certainly can't let her wander outside where she could be killed. What really terrifies him is that he doesn't think she would try to stop it. She wouldn't fight off an infected – she would embrace her death with open arms and a smile on her face. He cannot deal with another loss. Not Alex.

"I can't let you go out there, sweetheart," he says gently. "Not like this."

"Like what?"

"This!" He gestures to her helplessly. "Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're withering away to nothing, Alex! A strong wind could knock you over and you think I'm going to let you wander outside where a fucking infected could -"

"Don't feed me that utter bullshit, Matthew," she snaps, scowling. It's the first time he's seen her look truly passionate about anything since he found her. "There are women going on this trip who could pass for bloody pixies they're so small! I don't see you stopping them from going -"

"Because they're not on a sodding suicide mission!" He shouts, stunning her into silence. "You think I care what anyone else does? I care about you, Alex! And I'm the only one left who does."

"Yes," she snarls, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Thank you for reminding me."

He swears softly, stepping into her space and crowding her until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the cot behind her. "I'm just trying to look after you, Kingston. Do you think Salome would want this for you?"

She slaps him.

Matt barely flinches, his cheek stinging smartly as Alex gazes up at him, eyes burning. "Don't you dare," she breathes. "Don't you fucking dare tell me what my daughter would have wanted. You have no idea -" She raises her hand again but he catches her wrist, then the other when she tries to use it instead. Capturing both wrists and wrapping his long fingers around them, he holds her against him and uses his free hand to grasp her chin. She fights him, finally, and begins to resist his hold, angry tears on her cheeks.

Ducking his head, Matt stills her struggle with a rough, biting kiss. She freezes against him for a

long moment, lips motionless against the harsh slide of his. When he's just about to resign himself to pulling away and receiving another slap, she moans ever so softly and forces her head up, back arching as she opens her mouth and kisses him back. He releases her wrists, yanking her closer and cupping her face in his hands, thumbs brushing the sharpness of her cheekbones as his mouth devours her. He can taste the salt of her tears on his tongue and for a moment, he almost hesitates. All it would take is one shove at his chest, one no and he would stumble away from her but as he nips at her bottom lip – violent, bruising little kisses delivered like physical blows – Alex curls her hands into his shirt and tugs, a silent plea for more.

He pulls away panting hard, pressing his forehead tightly against hers. "I can't lose you," he confesses roughly. "You're all I have left, do you understand? And I will not let you destroy yourself out of some misguided attempt to receive penance for surviving when your daughter didn't."

She bites back a sob and slaps him again, but she soothes it just as quickly, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt to drag him down to her. Grip biting into her hips, Matt turns and shoves her against the wall, pressing along the length of her with a groan. Alex arches against him, leg slipping between his to rub the growing ache in his trousers. He hisses against her lips, hands slipping beneath her thin top to stroke bare skin, his fingers skimming her sides hard enough to leave bruises.

Alex moans and he drops his head, sucking at her neck. Her skin smells like cheap soap but she's still soft here and beneath the tang of dankness and dust, he can taste the essence of what makes her Alex. Her hands shake as she struggles with the button and the zip on his trousers but he bites the side of her throat and offers no assistance. It will leave a mark, a deep, stark red reminder that she still has someone who needs her.

"Matt," she whispers, abandoning his trousers and sliding her hands beneath his t-shirt. Her nails scrape along his spine with all the gentleness of a razorblade and he swears into her hair, hips bucking. "Please."

He grunts a reply, lifting his head to steal another greedy, hard kiss that leaves her breathless. He doesn't give his hands the chance to tremble as he undoes her trousers and shoves them down along with her knickers. Alex kicks them away, breathing harshly, and spreads her legs. She looks desperate, lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glittering. She finally looks alive.

He kisses her again, no gentler than the last because violence seems to be the only thing that will get through to her right now, and slides a hand between her damp thighs. One stroke of his fingers through her folds and he finds her soaking wet. "Is this what you want, hm? Look at me, Kingston." She lifts fluttering green eyes to his and he feels her arousal seeping from her core and coating his fingers as she nods once. He breathes out a quiet whimper and slips them inside her.

Alex parts her lips in a silent cry, head thrown back and hips lifting to drive him deeper. "Oh god," she breathes. "Yes." He begins his assault on her neck once more, mouthing red marks all along her throat while she gasps with every flick of his wrist. Her nails dig into his biceps and his muscles flex beneath her grip. "Matt, god -"

"Shh." He wants nothing more than to hear her shout loud enough to shake the heavens but there are people milling about just outside and anyone could walk in at any moment. "Quiet, Kingston."

"You be quiet," she snaps, hips rolling against his hand, a whine in her throat. "And get inside me."

He slips his fingers from within her and fumbles with his trousers, shoving them down around his thighs. Alex grips his shoulders as he lifts her, pressing her into the wall. She wraps her legs around his waist, reaching between them to curl her small hand around his cock. "Oh Christ, Alex," he hisses through his teeth and tilts his hips as she guides him to the heat between her thighs, shoving up and into the wet, clasping hollow of her cunt. There is nothing but roaring white noise in his ears as he fills her but Alex gives him no time to adjust, rolling her hips and fucking herself on him, obscene, quiet little moans escaping her lips.

Swearing through clenched teeth, Matt grips her to him and starts to thrust, deep satisfying strokes that make his head spin. Alex threads her fingers through his hair and moves with him, as unyielding as stone beneath his hands. Grunting, he rocks up into her, slamming his hips over and over again just to hear the quiet gasp that rattles in her throat. Her nails dig into his scalp and the back of his neck but he barely feels it. All that matters is that she's here – she isn't off in her own head, staring into space. She is alive and writhing under his touch, rasping his name against the shell of his ear. Matt never falters, like he can anchor her to the present if he just fucks her hard enough.

His balls draw up and tighten, heavy with arousal, and he buries his face in the crook of Alex's neck, breathing in the sweet, sticky scent of her sweat. "Alex," he mumbles, gripping her desperately. "Going to -"

She nods, a hand slithering between their violently clashing bodies to find her clit. She rubs her fingers against herself once, twice, and then her whole body gives a shuddering jerk. Her mouth drops open and she shuts her eyes. Legs tightening around his waist as she comes, she draws in breath like a drowning victim's last precious gasp of air. Nosing at her curls, Matt grips her to him and focuses on nothing but the tight fluttering around his cock. His hips stutter erratically as he lets go, spilling inside her with a quiet cry.

Alex says nothing as he catches his breath but he can hear her sniffling. Slowly, he lifts his head from her shoulder and looks at her, almost fearful of what he might see in the aftermath. Her eyes are watery but she hasn't retreated back into her own head just yet. She looks present, at least.

She's still here with him.

Gently, he slips out of her and helps her back to her feet. Her legs slip from around his waist and she doesn't look at him as he steadies her. "Alright?"

She nods. "Fine. I – thank you."

He isn't quite sure what she's thanking him for but he nods anyway. "Yeah, sure. Of course."

Still avoiding eye contact, Alex moves to retrieve her knickers and slips them back on. Silence stretches wide between them as Matt tucks himself back into his pants and zips his trousers, watching Alex tug her jeans back on and up. He wants to say something, anything to make this less awkward. He wants to gather her into his arms and kiss her, tell her he's wanted to do that since practically the moment he met her. He wants to tell her that he's only trying to keep her safe, not keep her prisoner. Somehow, he doubts Alex would be receptive to any of that right now.

She turns to face him, tucking her curls behind her ears and blushing faintly. "I'm just going to -" She doesn't even bother to finish her sentence, moving to dart past him, but Matt stops her, circling a hand quickly around her wrist.

"Alex -"

She sighs quietly, her breath sounding shaky. "I want to be alone for a while," she admits softly.

He flinches. "Right. Okay."

Alex softens when he releases her, grasping his hand for a moment, before turning and slipping from the room. She walks right past her knapsack still lying half-packed on the cot. He doesn't see her for the rest of the afternoon but he looks for her in the party that leaves on the trip to the nearest compound for supplies. Alex isn't with them.

It's only at dinner that she finally shows herself, arriving a few minutes late and sinking into the seat next to Harry across from Matt. He doesn't ask her where she's been all day and she doesn't

offer the information freely. "Kingston," he greets quietly instead.

She manages a weak smile and drops her eyes to her plate.

Harry glances between them with a frown, raises an eyebrow, and shrugs. "So," he says, voice unnaturally loud in the thick silence Matt and Alex have cultivated. "Where have you been today, then?"

Alex starts when he elbows her, eyes going wide. "Nowhere."

"Nowhere." Harry squints, stroking his chin. "Never been there. Did they build a new wing and fail to tell me about it?"

She rolls her eyes and he grins loftily at her, waiting until she isn't looking to drop a few extra slices of cheese onto her plate. Matt nods his thanks and Harry waves him away. "I just did a bit of exploring. Well, all the places I could get into without being patted down by security."

"Really? That's the best part." Harry winks.

To Matt's surprise and utter delight, Alex stifles a smile. "Perhaps next time."

"Any particular reason you decided to disappear on your own all day?" Harry eyes her with playful suspicion and Matt swallows hard, watching her glance hurriedly away.

As if she doesn't know what else to do with her hands, she picks up a bit of cheese and nibbles on it, following it with a long, slow sip of water. It isn't much but it's something, at least. "I had to do something to keep myself occupied, since I'm being kept inside like a pet."

Matt lifts his eyes to hers. "That isn't why I asked you to stay and you know it."

"Except you didn't ask me to stay, did you? You told me I was."

"Would you have listened otherwise?"

"No, probably not. But I have a feeling you would have known exactly how to get my attention." Alex pushes away her plate. "Excuse me. I'm not very hungry."

"You've barely touched your dinner -"

"I said I'm not hungry."

Harry clears his throat. "Alex, love -"

"Take your portion back, Harry," she says, laying a soothing hand on his shoulder. "I won't be eating it." She rises from her seat and flees the canteen before Matt can even make the attempt to call after her.

He moves to follow but Harry shakes his head. "Leave her."

"She's upset, Harry."

"Yeah, and you need to give her some space."

Matt scowls. "She's had space all bloody day."

"Not all day." Harry quirks a brow. "Want to tell me about the glaring red hickey on her neck?"

Flushing, Matt drops his eyes back to his plate. "I didn't see anything." He hadn't actually. He'd been far too focused on Alex's determination to ignore him to bother paying attention to anything else.

Harry snorts. "Right, and you know nothing about it, is that it?"

"It's none of your bloody business," he snaps, stabbing at the questionable meat on his plate.

"It's my business when I have to look at the fucking territory mark on her neck while I eat my dinner!" Harry huffs grumpily and shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, chewing with passion. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Matt shifts uncomfortably, shrugging. "I told her I didn't want her going out. I told her that Salome wouldn't want her trying to get herself killed as some twisted form of penance."

Harry winces.

"What? It's the truth and you know it is."

"Never said it wasn't."

"She slapped me."

He snorts. "So you what, snogged her in retaliation?"

Matt ducks his head.

Harry laughs. "Very smooth, Smith. God, I've got to sneak into surveillance tonight. I bet that tape is wank fodder of the fucking month."

Blushing furiously now, Matt buries his face in his hands. "Just sod off, Harry." He only glances up when he feels Harry prodding him with his fork, peeking at his friend through his fingers.

"You need to give her something to do." Harry eyes him pointedly. "And I don't mean you."

"God, you're an arse," Matt grumbles.

Harry flashes him a brief, proud smile before turning serious once more. "She isn't meant for this laundry and washing dishes shite. She'll go mad doing that all day every day."

"I couldn't let her go out there," he reasons. "You know what she's been like -"

"A walking corpse," Harry agrees. "You did the right thing, mate. For now. But something needs to change."

Harry's words echo in his head long after dinner and Matt retires to bed still thinking about it. On his way to his cot, he passes Alex in hers, eyes determinedly shut though he knows she isn't sleeping before lights are even out. He pauses, hovering at her bedside, his shadow falling over her face, but she resolutely ignores him, feigning slumber.

Sighing, he rakes his fingers through his short hair and climbs into his own cot, crawling beneath the thin blanket. For the first time since he found Alex and brought her here, he spends the entire night sleeping alone.

He jolts awake to the sound of Alex calling out for Salome, the note of tears in her voice obvious even from his cot across the room. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, wondering if she would even want his comfort. She used to come to him on nights like this, climbing onto his cot beside him and letting him wrap his arms around her. It's been a week since she attempted to leave and he refused to let her – a week since he potentially ruined everything.

"Sal, I'm here. Mummy's here -"

Sighing, Matt scrubs a hand over his face and sits up, squinting into the dark. He knows he can't be the only one awake and listening to Alex but no one moves or makes a noise of protest, too used to their own nightmares to fault anyone else for theirs. But no one makes an attempt to comfort her either and he can't stand doing nothing and listening to her cry out for her daughter. Whether Alex wants him or not, she has him.

He rises to his feet and starts shuffling in the dark toward her cot, and the closer he gets, the clearer it becomes that she's tossing and turning in her sleep, brow wrinkled in distress. He settles onto the edge of her cot and strokes the backs of his fingers over her forehead. "Shh, it's alright, Kingston," he soothes. "Wake up, sweetheart."

She flinches away from his hand, scrambling away from him in fear, but he sees the exact moment

she realizes where she is and whom she's with. "Matt?"

"Yeah." He brings his hand back to his lap awkwardly, unsure now that she's awake and looking at him. She's been doing her best to avoid him since what happened between them and he hasn't tried to push her, remembering Harry's warning to give her space. He trusted that she would come to him when she could look him in the eye again, and in the meantime, he's been struggling to find a way to help her. "Bad dream?"

Alex shakes her head, turning to wipe hurriedly beneath her eyes with a trembling hand. "Memory. The day I lost her."

She's never told him exactly what happened that day and he's never asked her. He isn't sure he wants the details. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

He fidgets, guiltily relieved. "Do you want me to go?"

Alex sniffles. "No."

He breathes out a quiet, grateful sigh and starts to fuss with her blanket. "Then I'll stay. But you need to sleep."

She nods, scooting back under her blanket and laying her head on the stiff pillow every refugee is provided with when they arrive. "You're leaving in the morning," she says softly.

Surprised she'd even heard his conversation with Harry at dinner considering how avidly she'd been studying her plate, Matt nods and smiles weakly. "I'll be back by dinner. Sleep."

Her eyes slide shut. "You'll be careful?"

"Always am." He strokes her curls from her face, heart clenching at the sight of tears still on her cheeks. "I didn't think you cared anymore."

"I do," she slurs tiredly. "Too much."

She's asleep before he can ask her what she means by that.

pass me that lovely little gun, my dear

Chapter Summary

Harry stays behind this time at Matt's insistence. He's too worried about Alex to just leave her on her own and he doesn't trust anyone else to look after her in his place. So he sets off alone just after sunrise with a canteen, a gun, and an empty satchel, hoping to return with a full bounty.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from O Children by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

Harry stays behind this time at Matt's insistence. He's too worried about Alex to just leave her on her own and he doesn't trust anyone else to look after her in his place. So he sets off alone just after sunrise with a canteen, a gun, and an empty satchel, hoping to return with a full bounty.

It's always difficult to venture aboveground and see the desecrated city he used to live in. Every time he stumbles out of the bunker and lands in the grass, he stands and stares around him with an ache in his chest, taking in the ravaged landscape where there used to be towering buildings and streets older than even his great great grandfather. The rubble stopped smoking long ago but he still sees it, can still remember the first time he laid eyes on what was left of his home. There is nothing left of London but the infected inhabitants and the bodies they've left behind.

Setting his jaw, Matt curls his fingers around his gun and starts walking. Over the horizon, the sun rises higher, shedding light on a new day, and Matt feels a little safer at the sight of it. Though the infected have no concept of night or day any longer and are aversely affected by neither, the daylight is an advantage for him. They may not be able to see a damn thing anymore – their blank, milky eyes haunt his sleep – but their hearing is superhuman. The less noise Matt makes, the safer he is.

He learned that the hard way, stumbling around in the dark one night and alerting every bloody infected within ten miles of his presence. He knows now sunlight is his friend. It's also the reason he likes to keep Harry far away when he goes out scavenging. While a great gun arm to have around, Matt's loud-mouthed best mate is usually the reason he needs another gun arm in the first place.

He finds some abandoned cars along the highway about an hour and a half into his journey and breaks into them, finding suitcases in the boot. He yanks them out and sets them carefully by the

roadside, dropping to his knees to rifle through strangers belongings. He finds canned food, bottles of water, cologne, toothbrushes, jewelry, a handful of pictures – he pointedly doesn't look at them

– and some shoes and clothes. He takes everything but the pictures, slipping it all into his oversized bag and feeling a bit of the pressure in his chest lift. No matter if he finds nothing else the rest of the day, he's bringing something back.

He walks for another hour, hearing the sound of snarling in the distance all the while. He listens carefully, a hand poised on his gun, but he stays quiet and far away from the noise. Thankfully, it's enough.

Along the way, he picks up odds and ends – a stray pillowcase, a kitchen knife, one glove, a glass bottle that somehow managed to escape being broken – anything at all that might be of use. He keeps an eye out for more alcohol and some cigarettes for Harry, toys for the girls, and something that might cheer up Alex and make her look him in the eye again. He actually manages to find a pack of cigarettes with about three still left and grins to himself, picturing Harry's expression when he sees them.

It's only when he wanders into what used to be a quiet neighborhood that he runs into trouble. Several infected are gathered around what looks to be the remains of a dead animal, growling and sniffing. Surprised to see such a large number together, Matt stumbles back and darts into the remains of what used to be a brick two story home. There isn't much left to it now and it looks like looters have already ravaged the place but if he crouches down and stays quiet, he might escape unharmed.

He almost manages.

He settles into the dirt and dust, gathering his satchel close against him, and prepares to wait however long it takes for them to wander away. This lasts all of ten seconds before he feels a familiar tingling in his nose and before he can even think to stifle it, he sneezes. "Fuck," he hisses, and then curses himself for speaking aloud.

Outside, he can hear them approaching, growling low in their throats.

He sighs, grips his gun, and jumps to his feet already shooting. They're faster than they like to let on and by the time he stands, they're almost face to face with him. He hits the first one right between the eyes and it screeches, dead before it hits the ground. The rest step right over it and Matt stumbles back, weapon still aimed at them as he steps behind the crumbling remains of a wall, instantly feeling a little better with something between them.

The rubble between him and them gives him an advantage – he can see it but they can't. They're

much more effective on open land, which is why it had been so surprising to see them in a little neighborhood like this one. They must have followed a food source all the way out here, likely that poor animal they'd all been gathered around. With obstacles in their way, they're a little slower, though still faster than any human. He fires again and again, picking them off one by one. It isn't until there's only one left and his gun clicks when he pulls that trigger that he realizes he's in trouble.

"Fuck," he says again, just before the last infected snarls and launches itself at him.

They hit the ground so hard Matt's teeth rattle in his head. He wraps his hands around the thing's throat to keep it from biting him, the muscles in his arms straining as he fights it off. Inwardly, he panics. Even if he does get control of the creature, what the hell is he going to do with it? He has no way of killing it.

It snarls, blank, white-eyed gaze squinted in mindless hatred. One long-clawed arm reaches out to swipe at him and Matt's heart skitters to a stop as he quickly twists and rolls them over before it can scratch him. Legs around its waist, he pins its arms above its head and stares down into its eyes, breathing hard. His mind races. Others would have heard those gunshots and followed the sound to its source – him. They could be here within minutes. And he's without a weapon to take care of even the one trapped beneath him.

He thinks of Alex, tearful and sleepy in her bed, asking him to be careful. He promised he'd be back by dinner. What will she do when he doesn't show up tonight? Who's going to look after her? Who's going to tell her he's been in love with her since she first laid a hand on his arm and called him darling? And Harry – Harry needs him, no matter how flippant he tries to be.

Matt feels helpless tears build behind his eyes, arms aching from holding back the violent struggle of the infected in his grasp, and grits his teeth. This isn't the end.

He starts to look around wildly for anything he could use, pressing a knee to the creature's chest to keep it in place while he uses his hands to frantically dig through the rubble surrounding them for anything he could use as a weapon. His satchel with his knife is where he left it – meters away. There's no way he can reach it from here.

He's about to give up, to hit the creature over the head and hope it passes out long enough for him to escape, when beneath the debris – crumbled brick, glass, trash, torn family photos – his fingers come in contact with something cool and metal. At first, he thinks it's his gun and closes his fingers around it, hoping maybe it'll work as a club to knock the infected unconscious for a while. When he brings it up to the light, he realizes it is in fact, a gun. But it isn't his.

Breath catching in his throat, Matt brings the muzzle of the semi-automatic between the creature's eyes, holds his breath in tentative hope, and fires. It cries out, a bloody gurgle in its throat, and stops struggling, limp beneath him. Matt rolls over and onto the ground next to it, heart pounding and chest heaving. Tiredly, he lifts a hand and kisses the gun in thanks.

He allows himself about half a minute to catch his breath before climbing to his feet again, clutching the new gun and stooping to pick up his old one. He snatches up his satchel and pulls out the kitchen knife and grips it in his fist. He gives the unmoving infected around him one last glance, and starts off again.

The encounter and subsequent spike in adrenaline has left him feeling drained and he decides he's managed to scavenge enough supplies for one day. He begins the long journey back to base with slow, heavy steps, and hopes he can make it before dark.

The trek back is without incident and he makes it to base just before dinner. He goes through security, deposits all of his findings with the people who catalogue that sort of thing – minus a few goodies he wants to distribute himself – and starts for the sleeping quarters for a change of clothes.

He meets Alex in the corridor on her way to dinner and she stops and stares at him, a hand to her chest. "My god," she breathes. "Darling, are you alright?"

Running a self-conscious hand through his filthy hair, Matt nods. "It looks worse than it is, I swear." He wraps a hand around her elbow and leans in close, ignoring the way she stiffens. "Walk with me?"

"I was going to the canteen -"

"Please?"

She hesitates, eyeing his dirty forearm, and nods quickly.

They walk in silence through the corridors, weaving through people on their way to line up for dinner, and finally make it back to the empty sleeping quarters. As soon as he reaches his cot, Matt peels off his bloody shirt and tosses it aside. Behind him, Alex coughs. He turns to look at her and finds her staring, wide-eyed. He rubs his neck self-consciously, wondering if she's looking at the scars. "Alright, Kingston?"

She flushes, glancing away. "Fine."

"They're old," he explains. "Haven't been seriously hurt in a few months."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

He shrugs, turning to pull out a clean shirt. "Sorry I dragged you back here," he says. "I had a bit of a rough day and I just wanted to look at you." He glances over his shoulder, grinning. "Can you blame me?"

She almost snorts. "You're far too charming for your own good, you know."

"Not as much as I'd like to be," he admits, trying to sound teasing. "One quick shag against a wall and you won't even look at me anymore. Was I that bad?"

She shakes her head, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. "Stop it," she says. "Please."

"Alex -"

"You deserve better." Her eyes dart quickly up to his incredulous ones and then away again. "I'm too broken to bring you or anyone else any happiness."

He stares at her. "Kingston, that's insane. All you have to do is look at me and I'm happy. These past few weeks have been the happiest I've been since the outbreak and that's because of you, sweetheart."

"How? All I've done is disrupt your sleep and refuse to eat. I've been a burden -"

He kisses her – hard. Alex doesn't struggle, threading her hands through his dirty hair and whimpering, her body warm and pressed right against his. Matt nips at her bottom lip and kisses her chin. "You are anything but a burden," he says roughly. "Understand?"

She nods, pressing her face into the hollow of his throat, her fingers trailing up and down his bare

chest, tracing over scars. He fights back a shudder and kisses the top of her head. "I'm going to shower," he says, and swallows an invitation for her to join him. "Go to dinner with Harry."

Alex pulls away slowly and – his heart hopes – a little reluctantly as well. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Nothing a shower and a bit of food won't fix," he promises, reluctant to tell her exactly what happened today. "Save me a portion, yeah?"

She nods, casts him one last lingering look, and turns on her heel to head for the canteen. Matt watches her go, smiling a little, and goes to wash the grime from his body under the spray of an icy shower.

He washes quickly, dresses even faster, and by the time he makes it to the canteen, it's still filled with people. Harry sits with Alex and there's an empty chair with a plate of food on the table. Matt sinks into it with a grateful sigh, scratching at his damp hair. Alex looks up when he sits and actually meets his eyes, which is certainly an improvement, but she's still not eating much.

He winks at her and drops his eyes to his plate. "Blimey, I'm starving. I actually don't even care what the meat is made out of right now."

Harry snorts. "You haven't cared in years."

"Well, I especially don't care now, Treadaway," he grumbles around a mouthful. "Don't piss me off or you won't get your present."

Blue eyes lighting up, Harry drops his fork. "What is it?" He holds out a hand. "Wait, don't tell me. Is it a puppy?"

Alex actually giggles into her glass of water.

Forcing himself not to gape at her, Matt reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out the cigarette pack, tossing it onto the table. Harry gasps and pounces on it like a dog with a juicy bone. He pauses to check that there are actually cigarettes inside before quickly tucking it away into the sleeve of his shirt before someone sees. Glancing up, he gazes at Matt with a disturbing amount of adoration and says, "I love you, mate."

"In a completely platonic, non-homoerotic way, yeah?"

Harry shakes his head, eyes wide. "No. I am actually a bit in love with you right now." He looks at Alex. "Sorry, love."

She flushes. "I don't exactly have a claim on him, dear."

"No, he's right." Matt glances at her slyly. "You kind of do."

Alex stares at him, but before she can reply, Harry leaps to his feet with a manic grin. "I'm going for a smoke."

Matt blinks up at him. "Where?"

"Where no sane person would possibly think to look – outside."

Sighing, Matt scarfs down the last of his food and says, "I'm going with you then, idiot."

Alex gapes at them. "Outside? You're going to venture out there in the dark for a fag?"

Harry grins. "Wanna come?"

She stands quickly. "Let me get my jacket."

Alex makes them go ahead without her and they pass security to climb up and out, breathing in the London air as they settle onto the grass. Harry slides the pack of fags from his sleeve and digs a match from his trouser pocket. Striking the match against the cigarette box, he lights his fag and flops back onto the grass, taking a long drag.

He lets out an obscene moan, breathing out smoke into the night air. "Oh god, this is better than sex."

Matt wrinkles his nose. "Can't say I agree."

"Well, that's because you've actually had sex recently."

He snorts. "Don't pretend like you weren't having it off with that kitchen girl a few months ago. Whatever happened with her, anyway?"

"Krista," Harry looks at him pointedly. "And I broke it off about two weeks ago."

"What? Why?"

"Because."

"Harry. Why?"

He takes his time answering, puffing on his cigarette. "Because while she was a lovely girl, she was not an Alex."

Matt glances at him sharply, horrified.

Harry rolls his eyes. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Smith. I'm not salivating after your girl."

"Then what the hell does that mean?"

"It means that Krista was fun to shag and she was a nice distraction but the more time I spent watching you stare at Alex like she hung the bloody moon and stars, the more I realized fun to shag just isn't enough for me anymore." He lifts his head from the grass to level Matt with a glare. "So thanks for that. Ruined a perfectly good arrangement."

Grinning, Matt reaches out a hand and ruffles his friend's blonde hair. "Harry, I think you're actually growing up."

"Took me long enough, eh?" He takes another long drag and turns his head from the night sky to look at Matt. "What happened today?"

Matt tenses, flexing his jaw. "Nothing."

Harry sighs. "Look mate, Alex may not know what you look like after a near death experience but I do. So what happened?"

Shrugging, he plucks at the blades of grass beneath his hands and says, "I ran out of bullets."

"You what?"

"I ran into a big group of them when I was out – they were in the suburbs of all places. I tried to be quiet but you know how I am, just can't help myself." He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. "I took them all out but the last one."

Harry sits up. "You were in the middle of a fucking shootout and you ran out of bullets? Jesus Christ, Matt -"

"I know, alright," he snaps. "I left without checking the gun and it was a stupid mistake. I know."

"What about your knife?"

"In the satchel I dropped."

"Jesus Christ, how the hell did you even get away?"

Matt offers him a faint grin. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." He and Harry both jump, turning to look at Alex climbing out of the bunker, a thin jacket wrapped around her. She stands over him, curls falling into her face and her lips pursed

tightly. "You promised me you'd be careful."

Matt ducks his head. "It was an accident."

"Yes, an accident that almost got you killed," she snaps. "This is exactly why I wanted you to always take someone with you. Damn it, Matt – what would I have done if you hadn't come back?"

"But I did!" Matt climbs to his feet quickly and reaches for her, taking her hands in his. "I'm here, sweetheart. And I'm fine."

"For how long?" Her lower lip trembles. "Until the next time?"

"As long as you're with me, I think I'll be safe." Leaning in, Matt brushes a kiss against her nose and whispers, "No one will look after me like you do."

Alex blinks away tears. "What?"

Instead of answering, he pulls the gun he'd found today from the waistband of his trousers. "This gun saved my life today, Kingston. Now it's yours."

"Mine?" She stares at it blankly, only closing her fingers around it when he pushes it into her hands. "I don't understand."

"I'm going to teach you how to use it," he says, smiling when she looks up at him in surprise. "I'll feel much safer out there knowing you've got my back."

"Oh, darling." Her eyes fill up and she tightens her grip on the gun in her hands. "Really?"

He's been thinking about it all day and he's decided that maybe Alex needs the kind of distraction he'd needed – someone who depends on her and an important job to do. "I want you with me. We'll look after each other."

"Don't I need a mental evaluation before I'm allowed to use a weapon?"

"Usually. But I found this one today and I didn't turn it in. It's yours." He takes her chin in his hand and guides her to look up at him, his expression solemn. "I'm trusting you with this, Kingston. Don't make me regret it."

"Of course, darling," she nods hurriedly, eyes glistening and earnest. "I won't let you down."

"Good." He drops his hand uncertainly, about to step back, but Alex leans up on her tiptoes and presses a firm, grateful kiss to the corner of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye, Matt sees Harry look away with a grin, cigarette dangling between his lips. He wraps his arms around Alex and nuzzles his nose against her cheek.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For saving my life, Matthew."

She already thanked him for that once before, but Matt stares into watery green eyes and realizes maybe she isn't just talking about the first time.

He promises her their very first lesson will take place after breakfast and Alex spends the duration of the meal fidgeting in her seat, legs crossed and foot bouncing, watching him avidly. Tired and sore from wrestling with the undead yesterday, Matt eyes her from across the table with wan amusement. "If you want to have a good lesson, you need to eat," he says. "Can't shoot on an empty stomach."

She sighs, looks at him like she knows what he's doing, and then proceeds to eat nearly everything on her plate anyway. His heart thrills at the sight and he spends the rest of their meal munching absently on toast and watching her eat with a silly grin. Finally, she pushes her plate away and looks at him expectantly. "Better?"

"Much."

Alex climbs to her feet and looks down at him almost gleefully, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the gun tucked into the waistband of her jeans unbearably sexy. "Well, let's go then."

He leads her to the facility they use for target practice, sending Harry away when he tries to follow. Alex will be nervous enough without him standing on the sidelines offering his smart arse commentary. The room is far from empty. Even people who never venture out want to be ready – they were caught off guard the first time and no one is keen to let it happen again. The only difference between Alex and them is that these people actually got the approval to use a firearm.

Hand to the small of her back, Matt pushes Alex gently along. Hopefully, if they look like they belong, no one will think to question them. He stops when they come to a free space and in front of them about fifty paces is the target – a makeshift dummy resembling an infected. He turns Alex towards it, hands settling on her shoulders, and speaks next to her ear. "Now, the first thing you want to do is keep your finger outside of the trigger guard until you're ready to shoot. When you're out there, it's easy to feel jumpy. If your finger slips and you're pointing your gun in the wrong direction, you could kill someone. And even if you don't, the noise will attract them. Got it?"

She nods shakily, curls brushing his mouth. "Got it."

"Good. Now, when you're ready to shoot -" He slides his hands down her arms and takes her hands in his, wrapping her fingers around the grip in the correct position. Alex stiffens but does not pull away, the warmth of her back against his chest a pleasant constant. "Make sure you hold on tight, yeah? Your hand should shake."

"Not a problem," she murmurs, and he grins when he realizes she's already trembling a little.

"Don't be scared," he says softly. "You can do this. Relax your grip a bit. Your hand should shake – not the gun. There you go, good. Alright, now use your other hand-" He pauses to take it in his, guiding it to the hand wrapped around the gun handle. "Cup your firing hand to steady your aim. Just like that, yeah." Alex swallows audibly and he realizes his voice may have dropped an octave or two as he spoke the last words. He clears his throat, determined to focus. "Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart, with your right foot about a step in front of your left."

Still flustered, Alex moves her feet into the right position.

"Lean forward a bit, make sure you're balanced. Right arm straight, Kingston."

She huffs. "Honestly, darling. You sound like an instruction manual. Can't I just shoot already?"

"Would you like me to get someone else to teach you? I mean, they'll ask to see your evaluation slip but since you have one of those, it shouldn't be a problem. Oh wait-"

Alex eyes him over her shoulder balefully.

He holds up his hands, a peace offering. "I'm trying to make sure you know what you're doing out there, Kingston. One missed shot could mean your life or mine. Before I can even think about letting you come with me, I have to know that you can make the kill shot."

Her glower lessens, her whole face softening. "Fine," she says, flushing.

He smiles widely. "Ready to aim?"

She turns back to face the target. "Don't we need protective gear?"

He stares at her.

She huffs again and god, he shouldn't love her annoyance so much but it's like a drug after weeks of her blank stare. "You know, glasses and earplugs, that sort of thing?"

"Ah." He shrugs. "Maybe before but that sort of thing is a luxury now. You'll have to make do like the rest of us, Kingston. Now aim and try not to shoot your eye out." Visibly biting back a retort, Alex tightens her grip on her gun, returning to the stance he'd shown her, right foot forward a step, left hand steadying her aim. "Good. Now look through your dominant eye and close the other. Look even?"

"I think so."

"Well then, fire away." He reaches out at the last moment and covers her ears for her teasingly. As the bullet hits the neck of the target in the distance, Alex reaches up and swats at him. "Not bad. I mean, it isn't dead and still coming after you but -"

"Oh, shut up Matthew," she snaps, swallowing an actual, genuine smile.

He glows, bouncing a bit on his toes. "Try it again."

And she does. Again and again.

After the sixth time she misses, Alex drops her arm and swears a blue streak. "This is ridiculous," she says. "What am I doing wrong?"

"Keep your focus on the front sight," he says for the third time in as many minutes. "Stop concentrating on the target. And for god's sake, remember to breathe, Kingston."

"I am!"

Sighing patiently, Matt steps up behind her and takes her hands in his, guiding her aim. She stiffens at once and he frowns. "Just trying to help, you know," he mutters.

"I know." She relaxes marginally, her warm back sinking against his chest. "Sorry."

"S'fine," he says, shaking off the urge to do something stupid like kiss her neck. "Now, look through your dominant eye, like I told you." She closes one eye, squinting. "Good. Focus on your front sight. It should be just below where you want your shot. Put your finger in the trigger guard, and…"

The shot hits the target in the forehead – dead center.

Alex squeaks with delight, dropping her arm and turning to face him, throwing herself at him. "I did it! Darling, did you see that?"

He laughs, wrapping her up and kissing her temple. "Knew you could handle it. Now do it again."

He makes her practice until she can hit the target in the exact same spot five times in a row. Alex

is a flushed, irritable vision by the time they finish but he refuses to let her leave until she also knows how to load the gun and then empty it safely. She skips dinner to sleep and he lets her only because he can't be sure she won't use her newfound skills on him if he pushes her any more today.

Dinner is quieter without her and Harry attempts to make up for it by being more obnoxious than usual. Matt pretends he doesn't notice but offers Harry some of his portion in thanks and tells him about Alex's success in their makeshift shooting range. Alex is asleep when he makes it back to the sleeping quarters and he spares a quick, fond glance at her sprawled form before moving on to his cot and crawling beneath the blanket.

His sleep, though deep and nightmare free for once, is short-lived. He wakes to a small hand on his shoulder and Alex whispering, "Darling, are you awake?"

"Am now," he grumbles sleepily, but she slides beneath the blanket with him and any further complaints stall in his throat. "Alex?"

She curls herself into his side, arm wrapped around his waist. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

He frowns. "For what?"

"For ignoring you after…" Even in the dark, he can tell she's blushing. "I just didn't know what to do. I can't offer you anything."

He wraps his arms around her small frame. "Kingston, we've talked about this -"

"I know." She props her chin up on his chest. "And I still believe you're wrong. But… I also know that I miss you."

"Alex -"

Before he can say another word, she surges forward and kisses him. For a moment, he can do nothing but lay there in shock. It's always been him pursuing her – even before the world went to hell in a hand basket – it was always Matt pursuing the unattainable Alex Kingston. And now she's here, practically lying on top of him on this small cot, her mouth warm and soft and willing against his.

He groans quietly into her mouth and wraps her curls around his hand, lips parting eagerly against hers to allow her tongue to slip inside and slide hotly against his own. Christ, she tastes amazing. He strokes his tongue over the roof of her mouth and her perfect teeth, wondering what she might taste like everywhere else. Alex takes his hand and slips it beneath her shirt. He splays his fingers over her abdomen and nips at her bottom lip. "Alex, are you sure?" They've only just started speaking to each other. The last thing he wants is to fuck it all up again.

She leans back to stare at him, eyes wide. "I'm not sure about anything anymore," she whispers. "But I know I'm not going anywhere, not this time."

It's easy to forget about all the sleeping people around him when Alex is looking at him like that and her bare skin is warm and soft under his palm. He strokes a hand up her side and cups her breast, dragging her head down to crash his mouth against hers. His thumb brushes lightly across her nipple and she sighs quietly, threading her fingers through his hair.

Pressing the length of his body alongside hers, he leaves a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along her throat and across her collarbones, stopping when he reaches the collar of her t-shirt. Fumbling between them, he rucks it up over her breasts, baring them to the cool air. Alex sucks in a quiet breath as her nipples harden and Matt ducks his head, mouth open to capture one between his teeth.

She whimpers and he nips at the plump, smooth skin of her breast in warning. She strokes a thumb over his forehead, arching into his mouth. He cups her in his palms, wishing he could tell her how perfect they are, how good they feel in his hands. Instead, he takes her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, teasing her as he laves his tongue down the soft valley between her breasts.

Never one to be idle, Alex slips small, warm hands into his trousers and wraps her fingers around his length. He hisses into her breast, hot and hard in the palm of her hand. She starts to stroke and for a moment, his brain short circuits. "Wait," he manages to choke out. Alex ignores him, teeth sinking into the line of his jaw teasingly as her thumb circles the head of his prick. He trembles, frantically yanking at her pajama bottoms before she manages to bring him off.

The moment her trousers are down, Alex throws a leg over his hip, guiding his throbbing erection to the heat between her thighs. "Fuck," he whispers, lifting his hips.

"Shh," she says mockingly, uncharacteristic laughter in her voice.

He nudges at her entrance and she snaps her mouth shut against a moan, her breath hitching. She pushes down, hand still on his cock, and slowly, he slips into her. Breath coming fast already, Matt swallows a guttural groan and watches Alex bite her lip hard in an effort to remain silent. He takes her hand, linking their fingers together as he pushes the rest of the way in and fills her up, both of them clinging to each other and shaking. He buries his face in her hair, struggling not to just come inside the tight warmth of her body before his first thrust. Christ, she makes him feel like a randy teenage boy again.

Alex brings their joined hands up to her lips and kisses his knuckles, hips nudging against his. Matt presses back against her and slowly, they find a rhythm that works, a gradual sliding back and forth as they lie side by side and stare into each other's eyes. They can't speak or moan or ask for yes more please but they share the same hot breath between them and every time he presses into her, he can see her mouth tremble. He can see the emotion in her eyes every time he squeezes her fingers. Somehow, all of this is better than words.

They rock against each other in silence, Matt dying a slow death every time he pulls out only to have Alex revive him with every push of his cock between her wet folds. She feels like silk around him and he wants to tell her so but instead, he wraps his hand around her thigh and starts to move harder and deeper, relishing her strangled cry.

The faster pace makes the cot squeak and from across the room, Mat hears someone turn over in their sleep, muttering discontentedly. Alex freezes but he kisses her softly, slowing his thrusts until the cot falls silent once more. Around his cock, the silken flutter of muscles lets him know that she's close and he slips a hand between their bodies to find her clit. It's swollen and sensitive under his questing fingers and it only takes a few hard strokes before he gets the pleasure of watching Alex's eyes flutter in the dark, her lovely mouth dropping open in a wordless cry as she comes, back arched and cunt wrapped around him like a vice.

It's all more than enough to finish him off and he drops his head quickly, mouth latching onto a nipple once more as he pumps up and into her, breath coming out like a short, muffled whinge as his release starts to wash over him. Alex threads an encouraging hand through his hair and suddenly he's there – white hot euphoria pulling him under – and he bites her nipple so hard as he comes that he's sure the bruise will be spectacular in the morning.

He stops moving and melts completely into the lumpy mattress beneath him. Alex pulls her shirt back down over her breasts and when he finally manages to gather the energy to slip from inside her, she tugs her pajama bottoms back up over her hips. Her hands gentle, she tucks him back into his trousers and curls herself into his side, her head under his chin. He grips her tightly and she whispers again, "I'm not leaving."

Somehow, he knows she means more than just this bed. He'll make her keep her promise, make her cling to it like he clings to her now, closing his eyes and hoping that she'll still be here in the morning – and every day after.

red sun rises like an early warning

Chapter Summary

Just as she'd promised that night she came back to his bed, she hasn't run away again. He can tell that sometimes she would like to – that she still thinks she's too broken to be loved, that maybe she doesn't deserve to be happy again after losing her daughter.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Bottom of the River by Delta Rae.

"Stop gloating."

"I haven't said a word!"

"Yes, but somehow I can still hear it."

Matt snorts, tugging the strap of his heavy satchel over his shoulder. "It's hardly my fault you're bloody stubborn and won't listen to reason. I told you there was nothing left in that pub but trouble."

"I just wanted a bit of whiskey to surprise Harry," she grouses, blushing a little. "I promised I'd be on the lookout. The man practically begged me on his knees."

He rolls his eyes. "Harry is an overdramatic sod, sweetheart. And he's brilliant at making people feel sorry for him."

"Too brilliant," she mutters, traipsing along beside him, fingers always poised over her gun. It's only been a few weeks since she started venturing out with him but Alex is always ready for sudden danger. She's learned so quickly.

Grinning, Matt slings an arm around her shoulders as they head off in the direction of base. They

haven't wandered far today and they'll be back in plenty of time before sunset. "You know I love any opportunity to see you in action, Kingston." Alex with a gun in hand, sweaty, flushed, and determined as she shoots… Christ, it's a sight. He suppresses a growl of desire and presses a kiss to her temple. "I just wish it hadn't been in vain."

"I wouldn't say that." Alex glances up at him, looking smug.

Matt frowns. "What?"

Without another word but a rather lovely smirk, Alex lifts a bottle from her small satchel.

"Scotch?" He laughs brightly. "How -"

"Found it buried under a bunch of broken glass."

"You mean the broken glass an infected threw you into because you weren't paying attention and looking for booze instead?" He lifts a brow, unamused, and Alex glances away sheepishly. She'd scared the living hell out of him, lying there on the floor, crumpled and bloody. Never before had he enjoyed putting a bullet through an infected's brain quite so much. "You're sure you're alright?"

"Perfectly fine, darling. Just a little scratched." She turns her head, pressing a swift kiss to his jaw. "Thank you for saving me."

"Just means you owe me one," he teases, wondering what she'd say if he told her he'd do anything to keep her safe, even if it meant getting infected himself. "Now give me a drink before Harry steals it all."

She passes him the bottle with a smile.

They go through security once they arrive back at the compound and while he knows he's fine, Matt can't help but hold his breath and pray every time he gets scanned for the infection. The security guard – a teenage boy in dirty jeans with a rifle slung over his shoulder – drops the scanner from in front of Matt's eyes and nods. "Clear."

Already waiting for him, Alex holds out a hand and they walk together to the front desk to drop off their findings – all except the scotch, anyway. "Dinner first or shower?"

Matt's stomach rumbles at the mere thought of food but Alex is just as dirty as he is and he doesn't want to hear Harry complain about having to smell them. Besides, he wants to make sure for himself that Alex really is fine. "Shower," he says, and begins to tug on her hand and lead her away.

They stop briefly for a change of clothes and head to the showers. Matt turns on the water as Alex begins to strip out of her grimy clothes and he studies her out of the corner of his eye. In the weeks since she's started training and going out scavenging with him, her body has started to fill out once more. She still isn't quite as curvy as he remembers but he can no longer see her ribs poking out and her thighs are a little fuller, her breasts a little more plump. Muscles are starting to form in her biceps and her calves are firm and slim. She looks healthy. And most importantly, that light is back in her eyes again. The grief is still there and he imagines it always will be, but she's almost recognizably Alex again.

As she steps under the spray, Matt sheds his own clothes quickly and joins her. The water is freezing but it washes away all the sweat and dirt from their day and that's all he can ask for. He wraps his arms around Alex and tugs her into him, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder and letting his hands wander over her skin, mapping and cataloguing each and every cut and bruise.

If she knows what he's doing, Alex doesn't say a word. She leans into him and closes her eyes, letting the water soak her red curls, plastering them to her head. Matt scans her critically, looking for cuts that might need stitches but they all seem shallow and she isn't even wincing as the water pounding down on them stings her skin. She's fine. He breathes out a quiet, relieved sigh and presses another kiss to her shoulder.

"Satisfied?" She asks, pulling back to look at him fondly.

He pouts. "Just checking."

"I told you I was fine." Alex takes a bar of soap in hand and begins to lather his chest, scrubbing away the day's grime with a gentle touch.

"I know," he shrugs, slipping his hands over her back and down.

She laughs as he cups her bum, yanking her close. "Didn't you believe me?"

He shakes his head. "I can never be too careful. Not when it comes to you." Shivering, Alex washes the soap from his chest and presses her lips over newly clean skin. "Cold?"

"Freezing," she admits, damp eyelashes sticking together as she avoids his gaze. Matt cups her face in his hands and presses her against the damp, cobbled brick of the shower wall, mouth on hers as he attempts to warm her up.

Just as she'd promised that night she came back to his bed, she hasn't run away again. He can tell that sometimes she would like to – that she still thinks she's too broken to be loved, that maybe she doesn't deserve to be happy again after losing her daughter. Sometimes, he'll catch himself watching her like the besotted fool he is and realize that Alex is staring back with something akin to fear. Whatever she struggles with, she resists the temptation to pull away again. Instead, she clings to him. She sleeps curled up in his small cot with him, she kisses him dizzy when they're alone and holds his hand under the table in the canteen, and whenever he braves the new world outside, she goes with him.

She still won't talk about Salome – but then, he doesn't really talk about his family either – and they both wake up nearly every night in the throes of some awful nightmare. Alex still bristles when Matt gets too protective of her and there are some days when she just won't eat, but things are better than they were now that she feels she has a purpose. She's improving and Matt is slowly learning to improve right along with her.

The canteen has mostly emptied out by the time they pull themselves away from their cold shower and get dressed but Harry is still waiting for them, picking at tonight's mystery meat with a wrinkled nose. Alex and Matt settle into the chairs across the table from him with their own plates but he doesn't acknowledge them right away, clearly very worried about just what he might potentially be consuming.

Matt spends a long moment watching Alex dig into her food, thrilled that at least today, her appetite has returned. Even her cheeks look less sunken, making her face look a little fuller. God, he loves witnessing the slow reappearance of those curves.

In the middle of lifting a spoonful of watery broth to her mouth, Alex glances at him out of the corner of her eye and sighs. "Would you stop watching me eat?"

He grins, ducking his head and returning his gaze back to his plate. "Sorry," he murmurs, not feeling sorry at all.

Alex sighs again and slips her hand into his under the table.

Having decided his dinner is no immediate threat and popping the meat into his mouth with a shrug, Harry finally glances up with disappointment. "No booze then?"

Alex opens her mouth to no doubt tell him what she found today but Matt squeezes her hand and she falls silent, glancing at him with a frown. Mouth twitching in amusement, he shakes his head once subtly and she rolls her eyes, going back to her food and allowing him to torture Harry.

"Sorry mate," he says. "No luck."

Harry groans and drops his forehead to the table. "My god, half the population is either dead or fucking ossified – where in the fuck has all the alcohol gone?"

"Seriously? It's the first thing people turn to in any stressful situation." Matt steals Harry's pudding and takes a bite before putting it back. It tastes like shit but it's better than nothing and by the time he and Alex made it to the canteen, the kitchen had been all out. "The looters who went through after the first outbreak probably took every bottle to ever exist."

"Don't forget tea," Alex chimes in, daintily slurping her soup.

"Tea," Matt moans. "I would risk infection for a decent cuppa."

Alex pats his shoulder distractedly, still preoccupied with her food.

"Well the tea is gone too," Harry snaps peevishly. "The Americans probably threw it into the harbor again. Fucking Americans."

Snorting Matt lounges back in his seat and enjoys knowing how close his best mate is to real alcohol without even realizing it. "I think you need a nap, Treadaway."

"Oh, that reminds me. You two have to go."

Alex glances up, blinking. "Pardon?"

"Yeah…" Harry offers a sheepish grin. "Everyone in our quarters is getting pretty sick of listening to you two shag when they're trying to sleep. They want you out."

Matt gapes. "Oh come on. We're not that loud."

"You are a bit, actually. I mean, after that first time, I don't think you even tried keeping quiet anymore, you bunch of exhibitionists."

Alex chokes. "First time? How did you -"

"Cots don't squeak like that on their own, love." Harry winks at her.

Flushing, Alex buries her face in her hands.

Matt presses a comforting hand to the back of her head, not quite sure how he feels knowing that people have been listening to him have sex for weeks. "You never said anything!"

"What was I supposed to say? 'Oi, mate, sorry but when you're shagging Alex could you maybe slap a hand over her mouth and also maybe do it on the floor so the cot won't squeak and wake everyone?'" Harry eyes him balefully. "Yeah, because that's a conversation I'd want to have with you."

Alex makes a pitiful, mortified noise into her hands.

Matt bestows her with a sympathetic pat and turns to Harry impatiently. "And what are we supposed to do? Sleep on the floor in the hall?"

"Ah, that's the good news." Harry begins to rummage through his trouser pocket, looking suddenly gleeful. "You get your own room."

He tosses a key onto the table and Alex lifts her head from her hands to join Matt in staring at it

curiously. There are very few separate bedrooms, most of which are reserved for higher ups or the very few couples with kids. Skeptical that they would waste a room on him and Alex, Matt shakes his head. "They're giving us our own room because we're shagging? A lot of people are shagging!"

"Yeah, but a lot of people are more discreet than you are." Harry shrugs. "I've taken the liberty of packing your shit and hauling it to your new place, so you're welcome and congratulations on the honeymoon suite."

As the embarrassment begins to fade, Matt can't help but glance at Alex and consider exactly what this means – a room alone with Alex, a room with a bed alone with Alex. He'll be able to undress her and see every inch of her naked somewhere that isn't a shower. He'll be able to spread her out beneath him and she won't have to bite her lip to keep quiet when he touches her. They can actually be reasonably loud.

A slow grin spreading over his face, Matt reaches a hand into Alex's satchel and finally pulls out the bottle of scotch, scooting it across the table and into Harry's deserving hands. "Cheers, mate."

He wakes in the morning tangled with a very naked Alex, his face pressed into her hair and his legs twined with hers. Alex makes a sleepy noise of protest as he shifts, sliding a hand up his bare chest and forming it into a little fist. Matt wraps his arm around her and stares at the ceiling with a smile. Now this is something they just couldn't have sharing a room with fifty other people.

It feels almost normal and for a moment, he lets himself imagine that he's in his bedroom in his flat in London and that any moment now, he's going to get up and make tea in the kitchen before slipping back into bed and Alex's arms with warm mugs and maybe a plate of breakfast for them to share. Marmalade on toast, perhaps. He can't even remember the last time he tasted marmalade.

Alex shifts on top of him, bare breasts pressed against his chest, and the cot squeaks, yanking him back into reality. He isn't in his flat and there is no marmalade – there may never be flats and marmalade ever again. There is only a tiny, bare room with two cots that he and Alex had pressed together last night. At one point, with Alex clinging to him and making these lovely little noises he'd never had the privilege to hear before, they'd fallen through the crack between the cots and onto the floor. He'd bruised an elbow but he hasn't heard Alex laugh like that in years – not since they were on set together, flirting and without a true care in the world.

Yawning, Alex moves about again, her leg snaking between his. Her thigh presses against his groin and he squirms. "Alex," he whinges.

She presses her face into his chest, hiding a smile.

"Aha, you are awake." He huffs, stirring her hair. "Awake and evil."

She laughs, letting him flip her over very carefully so he can pin her to the mattress. Her eyes finally open and she peers up at him, looking sleepy and content. Hands pinned above her head and legs spread to cradle his body between them, she looks ravishing and he can't help but wonder what she would look like with sun streaming in through a window, lighting up her eyes and turning her hair aflame.

Reaching out a hand, she cups his cheek in her palm, thumb brushing softly over his cheekbone. "I like it in here. It's quiet."

He nods. "Could do with a few homey touches. Throw pillows. Maybe a few scented candles." She rolls her eyes but softens when he turns his head and kisses her palm noisily. "Thank you for the room, by the way."

She laughs, throwing her head back, and he grins down at her. "Darling, it takes two to get kicked out for shagging in a communal sleeping room."

"Yeah, but it's your fault we were shagging so much," he reasons loftily, enjoying the way she gapes up at him. "Danger gets you all hot and bothered, Kingston."

She makes a noise of protest, swatting at him. "It does not!"

"It does! Every night after we get back from scavenging and shooting, you're all over me -" He ducks when she tries to slap him, laughing. "Admit it. Using a gun turns you on."

"Watching you use a gun turns me on," she mumbles, blushing.

His grin widens. "Even better."

"Oh shut up, darling," she grouses, and pushes him off of her.

He pouts, watching her slide out from beneath him and reach for her clothes scattered on the floor. "Where are you going?"

"I have rotations today," she says, slipping into her knickers under his watchful gaze. "I'm doing laundry. Very exciting."

He sighs, stretching languidly. "Fine, I guess I'll go see the girls."

"The girls?" She turns to him, brow arched, and he freezes, instantly cursing himself for the slip of the tongue. He hasn't told her about his little visits to see them. Alex has been doing so well. He hates to bring up anything that might remind her unnecessarily of the little girl she lost. Olive, Holly, and Grace would definitely be unnecessary reminders. "Do you have something you'd like to tell me, darling?"

"Yes." He nods, climbing out of bed and hopping into his jeans. "I have a harem. But don't worry, Kingston. You're my favorite."

He grabs his t-shirt, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek, and escapes before she can ask him anything else.

"What do you think? Are they me?"

Alex glances up and promptly breaks into giggles at the sight of him sporting a pair of scratched, battered cat eye sunglasses. "Oh yes. Very glamorous." She steps over an upended luggage trolley and glances curiously around the lobby, looking adorably cautious.

It's her first overnight trip and the lower in the sky the sun gets, the more jumpy she becomes. He'd insisted that instead of sleeping out in the open, they stay in one of the few buildings still standing on this street in the middle of Manchester. The hotel is deserted – save for a few infected they'd quickly dispatched – and definitely worse for wear but it's a stable building and full of real beds in empty rooms.

Matt takes off the glasses and watches Alex stoop to inspect the bags of luggage, the contents of which are strewn throughout the vast lobby. "Don't bother," he says. "This place has been looted a hundred times over. Anything worth taking has been taken already."

"Speak for yourself." She holds up a single piece of spearmint gum with a grin.

He takes his half when she splits the stick of gum in two, popping it into his mouth and offering her a grateful peck. It tastes a little stale and it's a bit hard but he can't even recall the last time he chewed a piece of gum so he isn't complaining. "We'll need to set off again at sunrise if we want to scavenge in Manchester and still be back before sunset tomorrow. So, dinner and bed?"

"A real bed." She sighs dreamily. "Why don't we just stay here?"

"Because the things that want to eat us can detect noise and the only way to avoid becoming their next meal or one of them is to remain underground?"

"Oh." She frowns, deflated. "Right."

Smiling softly, Matt leans in and brushes his lips across her forehead. "Maybe we should skip dinner and just go to bed."

"God, I love a man with a plan." She leans up on her toes and her lips just barely touch his when a high-pitched scream echoes around them from the street.

They spring apart instantly and as Matt breaks into a run, gun already in hand, Alex is right behind him. He hears another scream as he stumbles down the hotel steps and there, right in front of them, are a group of infected gathered around a young girl. Her back pressed against an abandoned car as they surround her, she has nowhere to go and only a small knife in hand to defend herself. She's young, her long brown hair obscuring her face as she screams again, lashing out and stabbing one of the infected in the head. Blood and brains spatter against her face and she attempts to yank the blade out, stifling a frustrated cry when it won't budge, lodged deep in bone.

"Salome!"

A shot rings out and Matt whirls in shock to find Alex behind him, arm outstretched and gun aimed at the snarling group around the girl. "Alex, what -" She shoots again, eyes fierce, and it

snaps him out of his stupor long enough to grip his gun tightly and start shooting alongside her. They work as a team, making quick work of the group with Alex shooting first and Matt delivering the killing shot to the ones she misses.

By the time they're all slumped on the ground, their dying groans still echoing through the streets, the girl has curled up into a ball on the ground, crying and shaking. As Matt approaches her cautiously, he can tell she isn't Salome. He says nothing, reaching for Alex's hand. She shies from him, avoiding his gaze, and steps closer to the girl, stooping to place a trembling hand on her shoulder.

"Sal?"

The girl flinches away from her, lifting her head. "I don't know who you are, please -"

Alex stares at her, drawing her hand back, and Matt sees the exact moment she realizes this young girl is not her daughter. Her back stiffens and she squeezes her eyes shut, managing a thin smile. "I'm sorry. I – I thought you were someone else."

Struggling against the urge to reach and pull her into his arms, Matt averts his gaze and gives her a little privacy to collect herself, knowing she'll just hate him if he coddles her now. Instead, he focuses on the girl. Pulling her knife from the head of the infected lying dead next to her, he holds it out to her and asks, "Alright?"

She nods, standing in shaky legs and gripping her knife tightly. "Fine. Thank you." Dusting herself off, she brushes her hair from her face and Matt is struck by how very young she looks. She can't be more than fifteen years old. "I don't know what happened. One minute I was walking along trying not to make any noise and the next they were on me. I'm Lydia, by the way."

"Matt." He holds out a hand and she shakes it, her grip surprisingly strong for one so thin. "We're staying there for the night -" He gestures to the hotel behind them. "But we'll set off again in the morning. You're welcome to join us."

She beams. "That sounds lovely. I've been looking for people for months, it seems."

Frowning, Matt opens his mouth to question her but Alex finally speaks up. "Darling, we should head back in. It'll be dark soon."

He turns to look at her, pale and drained, still not quite meeting his eyes. He finally risks holding out a hand to her again and this time, she takes it, weaving their fingers together. They start walking and he gestures for Lydia to follow. She steps over the corpses around them and trails behind. Matt takes his eyes off her long enough to murmur, "You okay, Kingston?"

"No," she answers honestly, and while he hates to hear it, he can't help but be grateful she isn't trying to lie to him. "But I will be. Just… my eyes playing tricks on me, I suppose."

He kisses her temple and steps away from her to open the hotel door, ushering her and Lydia inside. Sticking her handgun into the back pocket of her jeans, Alex turns to Lydia with a bright smile Matt sees right through. "We don't have much to eat but you're welcome to my portion if you'd like it."

Lydia shakes her head. "Thank you, Kingston, was it? But I think I'd just like to sleep somewhere without worrying about every little noise in the night."

"I understand," Alex smiles and elbows Matt when he laughs. "And my name is Alex, dear. Matt calls me by my last name because he's an enamored idiot."

He grins at her. "Guilty."

Alex rolls her eyes but her amusement isn't quite genuine. It'll be a few days, he thinks, before he truly sees his Alex again. Any reminder of Salome is always a setback. Turning from him, she digs into her satchel and pulls out a piece of bread and cheese, handing them to Lydia. "What were you doing out by yourself, anyway?"

The girl shrugs, looking reluctant. Matt rights the overturned luggage trolley and ushers her and Alex to sit on it before sitting across from them on the floor. "I was traveling with a group – my brother and a few people we'd met. They were all killed a few weeks ago and I've been on my own since then."

Alex wraps an arm around the girl, a maternal gesture that makes Matt's chest ache. As Alex murmurs comfort, Lydia hesitates only a moment before dropping her head to let it rest on her shoulder. Her long hair slips down her back, exposing the side of her neck, and Matt's breath catches painfully in his throat. A jagged, fresh scratch. God no.

For a moment, he allows himself to believe she didn't get the scratch from an infected. She could have gotten it anywhere, roaming around on her own, running for her life. But then Lydia meets his gaze with a tired smile and even while the room begins to darken with the rapidly approaching sunset, he can still see that something about her eyes isn't quite right. She's turning, without even realizing it.

"Matt? Darling?"

He flinches, blinking hard and glancing away. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he asks, "Yeah? Sorry."

"I was saying we should find some rooms to sleep in." Alex eyes him warily, looking concerned. "Are you ready to head upstairs?"

"Of course." He stands quickly, reaching for her hand and pulling her close, away from Lydia. "Let's go."

Alex tugs on Lydia's wrist, smiling. "Come along, dear. I'll help get you settled."

Lydia beams, clearly relieved to have someone looking after her, but the moment she meets their eyes, Alex stumbles back with a gasp at the sight of the milky film making her eyes glaze over. Matt presses a hand to the small of her back and uses his free one to squeeze her fingers. "Easy, Kingston," he murmurs. "Go on ahead of us, Lydia. I think Alex is feeling a little faint. Needs to eat something."

"Oh, okay. Feel better, Alex." The girl casts them an anxious glance, blinking like it's becoming difficult to see, and turns to start slowly up the stairs on her own.

Alex clears her throat and manages a soft, "We'll be up soon, dear." The moment she's gone, Alex puts her head in her hands. "Oh my god." Matt wraps his arms around her, threading his hands through her hair and tucking her head under his chin. Her shoulders shake and he shushes her softly, rocking her back and forth. "We have to do something. We have to -"

He drops a kiss into her hair, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. She's been infected. There's nothing we can do."

She pulls away from her, turning her back as she wipes hurriedly at her eyes. "Yes, there is," she

says softly. "Turning, it's… it's a very painful process, Matt. It's agony."

"How do you -" He stops, swallowing hard, little Salome's face flashing in his mind. "Alex -"

She whirls to face him, eyes red, and grips the collar of his t-shirt with sudden desperation. "We have to stop it before she changes completely. We have to save her."

"Alex, sweetheart, we can't stop it. The bloody government can't even stop it and they've been experimenting with cures for years!"

She shakes her head, face pinched as she struggles not to cry. "No, darling," she whispers. "I don't mean save her. We have to end this."

As her meaning dawns, Matt draws in a sharp breath, ice trickling up his spine. "Alex, no."

"We have to, darling." She wipes at her cheeks again, tears still spilling from her eyes and seeing her cry makes him so angry he wants to hit something. He just wants to wrap her up and make sure nothing ever hurts her or brings her painful memories ever again. He wants to take her from this hellhole and just float with her above the earth, above the stars, and just never come back down again. "I know it seems brutal but we can't just let her turn. It's not a life – it's not even close."

"Can you honestly tell me you could climb those stairs and shoot her through the head while she's sleeping?"

Alex flinches but then she squares her jaw, eyes hardening. "I can if the only other option is dooming her to become some blind, mindless killer."

"Alex -"

"No!" Her shout echoes around the empty lobby. "I can't – I won't make the same mistake again."

He stares at her in stunned silence and Alex looks away, resolve crumbling along with her expression. Forcing himself to snap out of it, Matt yanks her to him roughly, folding Alex into his embrace and burying his face in her hair. He holds her until the tears stop. They sink together to

the floor and he knows without asking that it's where they'll stay tonight. Suddenly, the thought of a real bed isn't quite the enticement it once was.

Cradling Alex on his lap, he strokes his fingers through her hair and waits patiently for her breathing to slow and the sniffling to stop. Lips pressed against her hairline, he draws in a quiet breath and finally asks the question they've both been dreading. "What happened to Salome, Alex?"

Pressing her face into the crook of his neck, wet eyelashes brushing his skin, Alex says nothing for a long moment and when she finally starts to speak, her voice wavers so dangerously he wishes he could take it back. "I looked away for just a moment."

He tightens his arms around her, if only to keep himself from pressing his hands to his ears and refusing to hear the rest.

"We were living in a train station with a bunch of others, laying low, trying to keep quiet. But a group of them stumbled upon us and managed to get in." She takes a shallow breath, trembling in his arms. "I pushed Sal behind me."

"Alex," he says softly, beginning to regret asking. "We don't have to -"

She shakes her head. "No. I need to."

He strokes her hair from her cheek. "Then I'm listening."

"One of them launched at me and we both fell to the ground. I could hear Salome screaming and I thought she was just scared. I tried to tell her it was okay, that I was fine. And then she stopped screaming."

Matt presses his face into her hair, a lump in his throat at the picture Alex paints in her distant, hollow voice.

"I killed the one on top of me, put a knife through its head." She swallows. "I pushed it off and ran to Salome. She was on the ground but she seemed fine. I helped her up and god, I remember being so frantic. My hands were shaking while I looked her over, checking her for even a scratch… I found one on her leg." She sighs shakily, a hand over her mouth. "She couldn't even feel it yet – I think scratches take longer to notice. Fewer toxins than a bite. I didn't tell her. I

didn't tell anyone. I didn't know what to do and I was just so scared, Matt."

He grips her to him, his eyes burning and his throat too tight to speak a word.

"I wrapped her up in a blanket and sat with her for two days. I barely moved. She got a fever first, and then her sight left. She screamed. That's when everyone else realized what was happening. They wanted to kill her and when I screamed and cried and refused, they made me leave." Her voice cracks and Matt blinks away tears. "I carried her outside and I just held her. I told her it would be fine but she was in so much pain. She cried the whole last day she was alive."

"Alex, sweetheart." His voice is raw but he can't stand to hear anymore, as selfish as it is. Alex had lived it but he can't even listen without falling apart. She's so much stronger than he's ever given her credit for. "Please-"

"I was with her when she turned, looking into her eyes. I watched the light leave her and I could see the moment she wasn't my Salome anymore. She was something else." Her face crumples. "She tried to kill me. And they stopped her. It took days before I stopped screaming."

"I'm so sorry, Alex." The words feel overwhelmingly inadequate but there is nothing else he can say. Nothing he says will make her feel better or bring her little girl back. There are no magic words to make everything right.

"We have to save Lydia, Matt." She looks up at him desperately, eyes wide and cheeks streaked with tears. "I can't let her suffer. I can't let her live to become something terrible."

"Okay," he says, and hugs her to his chest, letting her cry. "We'll take care of it."

They don't sleep that night, sitting on the floor in the lobby and holding each other close. Matt tells silly stories he remembers from having Salome on set and though Alex can't bring herself to laugh, her eyes lighten and she clings gratefully to his hand. It's enough.

When dawn breaks, they steal upstairs and slip into the room where young Lydia sleeps. Alex stands over the bed and stares down at the girl whose skin has already taken on a strangely translucent pallor. A cold sweat has broken out over her body, the fever setting in. In a day, she'll be changed completely. Unless they do something.

Matt draws his gun but doesn't make a move toward Lydia.

Seeing him hesitate, Alex wraps her hand around his arm. "It's a mercy," she whispers. "For her and everyone else."

"I know. I just – I've never killed someone who wasn't fully infected."

"We'll do it together." She wraps a hand around his on the grip of the gun.

He shakes his head. "No, I can't -"

"Together," she says again, firmly.

They raise the gun, fingers poised on the trigger as the girl on the bed sleeps restlessly, oblivious. Matt swallows hard. "Look away, Kingston."

Alex shuts her eyes.

They squeeze the trigger.

maybe it's all we got but it's all i need

Chapter Summary

"When has anyone, on the face of the entire planet, ever not liked you, Kingston?"

She scoffs. "You'd be surprised."

"Sorry, don't believe you. You're impossible not to like. It's your curse." Her grip around his hand tightens and he slows just outside the door, meeting her eyes intently. One look at her face and he knows it isn't really fear of not being liked that has her fingers trembling in his. "Hey, it'll be fine. I promise."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from All I Need by Mat Kearney

"What if they don't like me?"

He turns to look at her incredulously as he guides her down the corridor, his hand in hers. "Seriously? When has anyone, on the face of the entire planet, ever not liked you, Kingston?"

She scoffs. "You'd be surprised."

"Sorry, don't believe you. You're impossible not to like. It's your curse." Her grip around his hand tightens and he slows just outside the door, meeting her eyes intently. One look at her face and he knows it isn't really fear of not being liked that has her fingers trembling in his. "Hey, it'll be fine. I promise."

"If I start to fall apart in there, I need you to pull me out." She squares her jaw, clearly determined to be strong. "They don't need to see an old woman bawling her eyes out and calling them another little girl's name."

"Alex -"

"Promise me."

He sighs, squeezing her hand. "I promise if you start to traumatize them, I'll make you leave."

She nods once. "Good."

"Ready?"

"No. But open the door anyway."

The quarters where the orphans stay are smaller than most others, just enough room for beds and tables for eating. Most of the older children prefer to wander the halls and infiltrate the other areas of the compound. They like being around the adults. Those too young, like the girls Matt has grown irrationally fond of, are mostly confined for their own safety and looked after by a volunteer. He tries to help out when he can but with his other duties and for a while, keeping a close eye on Alex, his visits have been sporadic at best.

At first, the girls don't even notice their arrival. Grace is too busy flipping through a torn, fading picture book, running her fingers over the drawings in fascination. On the floor, Holly and Olive squabble over the doll Matt had given them. "But you said she could be Wonder Woman today and kill all the infected!"

Olive frowns savagely. "Yeah, but now I've decided she needs to be a nurse and save them all!"

Matt rolls his eyes and next to him, Alex stifles a smile, looking remarkably stable. "Or," he says, causing the girls to whirl around in fright. "She could be Wonder Woman and save everyone. What have I told you about compromise, girls?"

"Matty!"

Doll forgotten, Holly tosses it aside as both girls leap to their feet and race toward him, launching themselves at this legs. He stumbles back with a laugh, planting a hand atop each of their heads. "How are my best girls?"

Olive tugs at his trouser leg, pouting. "Matty, it's been ages!"

"I know, I'm sorry." He lifts them both into his arms and squeezes them tight enough to make them squirm and giggle. "I've been busy but I've missed you insanely." He sets them back on their feet again and ruffles Holly's hair just to see her scowl and pat it back into place. He glances back at Alex hovering behind him wearing a soft, anxious smile, and reaches for her hand. "You remember my friend Alex I told you about?"

Alex looks startled. "You told them about me?"

"Course I did, shush." He glares playfully and turns back to Holly and Olive. "Girls, this is Alex. She wanted to be meet you – god knows why."

Holly glowers.

He grins at her. "Alex, this is Holly, and this is Olive." He eyes them both sternly. "Best behavior, yeah?"

They nod eagerly, staring up at Alex. "Hello," they mumble in unison, suddenly as shy as Matt has ever seen them.

Smiling kindly, Alex kneels and looks them square in the eye. "Hello. Your Matty has told me so much about you. It's nice to put such lovely faces to those pretty names."

The girls beam at her, clearly taken by her already.

"And I must say," she begins, eyeing Olive's feet. "Those are very remarkable boots."

Olive preens, dropping her head to admire her red cowboy boots. "Matty found them for me."

Matt snorts. "She wears them with everything."

"I don't blame her." Alex grins and glances over their shoulders, gaze directed toward the little cot in the corner of the room. "And what's your name?"

Watching them in silence from the edge of the bed, curious but unwilling to make a move forward, Grace peers at Alex with wide eyes and says nothing. "Grace," Matt mutters, just loudly enough for Alex to hear. "A bit shy, that one."

Softening, Alex casts Olive and Holly one last smile and a gentle squeeze of their little hands before rising fluidly and crossing the room. She gestures to the spot next to Grace and asks, "Can I sit with you?"

Grace nods her dark head quickly, eyes on her knees.

She sits and Matt moves to a table with the girls, giving them some space. He has never been able to get Grace to fully open up and he can't help hoping that maybe she just needs someone like Alex to bring her out of her shell. Olive and Holly watch with rapt attention, whispering to each other about Alex's hair and how soft her hands are. Grinning, Matt shushes them and turns back to the scene unfolding in front of him.

He tunes back in just in time to hear Alex say, "Our hair is quite alike, isn't it?" She tugs gently at a kinky brown curl hanging over Grace's forehead. "Yours is much prettier though."

Grace reddens, casting Alex a shy, uncertain glance.

Alex smiles and reaches out to tap a finger against the book Grace had been looking at when they came in. "Can you read?"

Grace shakes her head. "I like the pictures," she mumbles.

Humming thoughtfully, Alex lifts the book and runs her fingers over the cover. "Where The Wild Things Are," she murmurs, sounding wistful. "My little girl used to love this one." Matt holds his breath, watching her carefully for any sign that she has had enough reminders for one day and would like to go. But Alex blinks hard, gives a little sigh, and manages a smile. "Would you like me to read it to you?"

Grace glances up sharply, eyes lit up, and he wonders when was the last time anybody read a story to these girls. Lips parted and gaze rapturous, Grace stares at Alex like some sort of savior and warmth fills Matt from the inside out as he witnesses the exact moment the shy little girl imprints on the grieving woman in front of her, like a duckling to its mother.

Grace climbs eagerly into Alex's lap and the other two girls scramble from the table and run over to join them, clambering onto the cot and sitting on either side of Alex. She opens the book to the first page, glances around her at the small brood of children surrounding her, and looks across the room at Matt with a watery smile.

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

Climbing into bed beside him later that night, Alex curls into his side. She's warm and smells like the soap the compound makes by the pound, her hair still damp from her shower. Matt pulls her close and kisses her neck as she slips a leg between his and nestles comfortably against him. "What do I have to be mad about?"

He shrugs. "I kept the girls from you."

Alex sighs, rubbing her cheek against his bare chest. "I was a bit cross at first," she admits. "But I understand why you did it. Honestly, you were probably right to keep them from me. I don't think I was ready until -" She stops, swallowing. "After what happened with Lydia. I think I needed today with them. It was nice, seeing that there is still some of that innocence left in the world. That it hasn't all been stolen away by death and infection."

He closes his eyes and kisses her neck again, a soothing brush of his lips across her throat. "They loved you, you know."

"Well, I loved them too." She smiles into his hair. "Especially Grace."

"You're brilliant with her." Matt strokes his fingertips up her spine. "I've never seen her smile like that. I mean it."

Biting her lip, Alex is quiet for a long moment, combing her fingers through his hair and lulling him into a fuzzy state of half-sleep. Finally, she says, "I'd like to spend more time with her. With all of them, of course."

"They would love that. The volunteers do what they can but it's not quite the same as -" He stops himself before he says a mother. "They would be crazy about spending more time with you, sweetheart. Especially Grace. I've never seen her respond to anyone like she did you and you'd only just met." He lifts his head and trails a playful finger down the expanse of her nose. "I think

she needs you."

Alex shakes head, crinkling her nose and swatting his hand away with a smile. "Actually, I think I'm the one who might need her."

They aren't having much luck today. It's been hours since they left the bunker in search of more supplies and they haven't found so much as a battered tin of beans. At the moment, the compound kitchen is well stocked but Matt always gets a little nervous when the time between visits from the armored tanks with food stretches longer than six months. The government sends out food when they can safely manage it but there are times when it just isn't often enough or the trucks get overrun with infected. Any opportunity Matt gets to help his underground community, he takes it.

He isn't even sure how it became his responsibility to scavenge. He takes turns with a few others but for the most part, the job falls to him – the clumsiest member of the group. Something happened to him after the outbreaks. He was forced to look after Harry, who practically fell apart, forced to shove his own grief aside and just grow up. He takes his responsibilities seriously and so far, he's managed not to let anyone down. He doesn't plan to start now.

"Anything yet?"

Alex shakes her head, rummaging through the debris scattered around the petrol station. "Not even a bag of crisps."

He sighs, abandoning the empty petrol cans he'd been checking for fuel. "Let's move on. This place has been wiped clean."

Straightening, she turns to follow him out. "Could we go to the library?"

"The library?" Matt laughs, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they head for the door. "I don't think we're going to find any food there, Kingston."

She nudges him, sighing. "I want to find more books for the girls. They don't have many and I'm quite tired of reading the same thing every night."

The last thing he wants to do is take a break from finding food to lug around books but Alex has been worryingly quiet today and the girls have proven to be a brilliant distraction. "Tired of pretending to be a wild thing, Kingston?" He turns his head and makes a soft snuffling noise into her neck, laughing when she squirms away. "But you're so good at it."

She whacks his arm, stifling a giggle. "Shut up, Matthew."

Even the library hasn't been left untouched. Without no one to tend to it, it sits alone and vacant among the rubble, the windows shattered and trees growing alongside the walls, the roots slithering out like claws and cracking the foundation. It's dark and mostly on its own, save for the theater down the street with posters slapped to the outside proclaiming the new showing of Godzilla.

Alex stares up at the building a little fearfully and he slips his hand into hers. "Sure you want to go in?"

She nods, squeezing his fingers. "If I have to read The Cat in the Hat one more time, I think I'll rewrite the ending and kill him myself."

He guffaws, lamenting, "What happened to my sweet Kingston?"

Alex smirks tiredly at him. "You gave her a gun and taught her how to use it."

"I knew it was bad idea," he teases with a sigh, tugging her along and up the crumbling steps. As he forces open the door and the emptiness inside echoes back at them, he whispers, "Stay close."

Their boots click against the marble floor as they make their way inside, clinging to each other with their free hand hovering over their guns. If possible, the inside of the library is even worse than the outside. Moss and other greenery grow up from the floor and vines slither up the damp walls, like something out of an apocalypse picture book. Everywhere he looks, bookshelves are overturned and books are scattered all over the floor. Without glass in the window to keep nature out, it has reclaimed and taken over the once beautiful building. Birds have made nests in the eaves, in the empty card catalogue drawers, under lamps on study tables. The sound of their singing echoes throughout the building and their cheerful chirping is a sharp contrast to the bleak picture around them. Matt watches in silence as a squirrel scampers across the circulation desk and dives for the floor, scurrying away into the shadows before he can even think about drawing his knife and killing it for dinner.

Hand in hand, Matt and Alex stand in the middle of the room and stare silently at the destruction around them. "Well," he finally says. "Have you got your library card? I'm afraid mine's expired."

Rolling her eyes, Alex lets go of his hand and starts walking, calling over her shoulder, "I'm going to find the children's section."

"Oi, I said stay close!"

"I'm fine, darling." She actually has to step on books to get across the room. There is no navigating around the endless sea of hardbacks and paperbacks. "Just keep an eye out like a good boy and I'll be back soon."

He sighs, watches her go with a little grin, and hops up onto the circulation desk to wait. Glancing at the bird next beside him, he stares at the three eggs lying inside and asks pointlessly, "Don't mind sharing, do you?" He huffs at himself and turns to gaze around him, studying the dust motes floating in the air until he hears Alex yelp.

Leaping from the circulation desk, he trips and stumbles over the books in his path, calling out, "Alex? Alex, are you alright?" She doesn't answer and he swears profusely under his breath, stomping over books and venturing further into the library, gun in hand and finger itching for the trigger. "Fucking hell, Alex – answer me!"

"Here!" She finally calls out, and her red head pops out from behind a fallen bookshelf.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course I am." She frowns, then brightens, waving him over. "Come here."

Matt takes a moment to force his racing heart to slow, slipping his gun back into the waistband of his trousers. "What the bloody hell are you yelling about then? Gave me a sodding heart attack."

She winces. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting to see him."

"Him?"

He starts reaching for his gun again and Alex laughs, bending to scoop up something. She turns with a ball of struggling orange fur in her arms and Matt can only stare for a moment until he figures out he is looking at a very mangy, very ill-tempered cat. "He was curled up on top of The Velveteen Rabbit," she says, beaming. "Isn't he adorable?"

"Kingston -"

Her face falls and her grip on the grumpy furball tightens. "Oh, please, darling? No one is looking after him and he looks so hungry. Please can I keep him?" She bites her lip. "I promise I'll make sure he doesn't bother you or anyone else. I can't just leave him here, Matt. He needs me."

Raking a hand through his hair, Matt eyes the hopeful expression on Alex's face, the baleful one of the cat squashed in her arms, and groans.

Smiling widely in triumph, Alex cuddles the cat close to her chest, ignoring its disgruntled meow. "Thank you, darling. You won't regret it."

Somehow, he slept better when he and Alex were sharing a room with fifty other people. Having Olive, Holly, and Grace constantly about is almost the same thing.

"Come on, Olly. It's my turn to try!"

"Shh! I'm still reading!"

Alex whispers, "Girls, hush. Matty is still sleeping."

He frowns into his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut, wishing it were true.

"And what have I told you about sharing, hmm? You can both sound the words out together." Alex shifts on the bed, curling up close to Matt, and he squints his eyes open just enough to see her watching the girls sitting at the end of the bed with a book open in their laps. She turns to him

and he shuts his eyes again quickly, stifling a purr at the feel of her lips brushing over his hair.

The bed shifts again and the warmth of Alex leaves him. Matt frowns, opening his eyes to see her lifting Grace up with her. She leans back into Matt and the little girl clambers into her lap with The Velveteen Rabbit. "Will you read with me?"

Alex smiles, stroking her fingers softly over Grace's cheek. "Absolutely. Help me sound the words out?"

She's been teaching the girls how to read and though Holly and Olive are too young to make out many words on their own, five year old Grace is doing splendidly. She follows Alex around while she does rotations, a book in hand as she attempts to read the whole thing through without any help. And this is the same little girl who used to hide in the corner and barely speak a word to him. Matt is a bit in awe of Alex and the affect she's had on Grace in such a short time. He's taken to calling her the Miracle Worker and she rolls her eyes and tells him to stop comparing a shy five year old to Helen Keller.

As Alex and Grace work through the first page and move on to the second, quietly murmuring over the pretty sketch of the rabbit, a ball of orange fur leaps onto the bed and startles Olive and Holly into shrieking. Matt groans, stuffing a pillow over his head. Damn cat.

Alex laughs softly, a soothing hand resting against his back. He presses into it with a content sigh, shutting his eyes again. "Girls, this is the cat I told you we found. He's been napping under the bed."

Olive and Holly begin to coo and Matt peeks out from beneath his pillow to see the cat dodge them entirely to curl into a ball next to Alex, still looking grumpy despite his nap. The damn thing adores Alex, following her everywhere – usually right behind Grace, like a line of admirers – and meowing for her attention when she's busy. Before, Matt had been under the impression that cats were cool, aloof creatures that liked to withhold affection and be independent. Either he was very wrong or Alex found a very weird cat.

Olive pokes at one of his ears, looking fascinated, and Matt realizes she likely has never seen an actual cat before. She was only a baby during the first outbreak. "Wow," she breathes. "He's so fluffy."

Holly nods, her mouth hanging open. "And orange. What's his name, Alex?"

Matt had lobbied very hard for Garfield, claiming the cat's personality matched perfectly but Alex had refused. He'd expected her to give the poor animal a strange hippie name like Moon Dancer or Sunflower. She'd surprised him.

"Cadbury," she tells the girls.

Olive wrinkles her brow. "What does that mean?"

Smiling, Alex strokes a finger along Cadbury's back to make him purr. "It used to be a type of chocolate," she explains. "It was my daughter's favorite." Grace snuggles closer to Alex, arms wrapping around her waist. Looking surprised, Alex returns the gesture slowly, dropping a kiss into the girl's dark curls.

Matt smiles into his pillow, something tender and warm wrapping around his heart and squeezing.

Holly exchanges a tentative look with Olive and ventures, "Matty told us you used to have a little girl."

"Did he?" Alex glances at Matt so he stops squinting at her from beneath his lashes and tries to look like he's sleeping.

Holly nods. "He said that's why you couldn't visit. We'd make you sad."

"Are you sad, Alex?" Olive watches her innocently.

For a moment, Alex says nothing, glancing between them in stunned silence. Grace hasn't moved, still clinging tightly to her. Finally, she manages a watery smile and says, "Sometimes I'm sad because I miss my daughter very much. But you three always make me feel better."

Holly and Olive beam at her, looking relieved.

Alex shuts the book open on her lap and shifts Grace closer to her. She casts a sly glance in Matt's direction and smirks at the girls, pressing a finger to her lips. They get the idea instantly, smiles turning mischievous. Matt braces himself and squeezes his eyes shut, waiting.

Holly and Olive leap on him at once and shout, "Wake up!"

He yelps with appropriate indignation, drinking in the sound of their giggles. As he rises from his blankets with a growl like some dragon woken from a thousand year slumber, the girls shriek with laughter and scramble away, right over a very disgruntled Cadbury who hisses at them. Laughing, Matt looks at Alex, grinning at him with Grace in her arms, and suddenly, this tiny, bare room feels a little bit more like a home.

we will keep it alight together

Chapter Summary

They've been living like this so long, it's almost impossible to imagine it ever changing. Sometimes he feels like he'll grow old and die in this bunker and whenever that feeling creeps upon him, he itches to stumble outside and allow himself to be food first.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from No Sound But The Wind by the Editors.

"Are you going to eat that?"

Alex pushes Harry's face away from her broth with an amused huff. "Yes, actually. Every bit of it."

He grins at her. "Good."

"Oh shove off, you sap."

"You love me," he insists. "What would you do without me around for entertainment? Talk to him?" He gestures to Matt, in the middle of dissecting his dinner.

He glances up, frowning savagely, and Alex pats his knee beneath the table, her eyes still on Harry. "I like talking to him. He's lovely and handsome and doesn't steal my food."

"Are you trying to imply I'm not lovely and handsome?" Harry looks so outraged Matt has to drop his eyes again to hide his smug amusement. "How dare you. I am a sodding catch. Infected would literally kill to have a piece of this and girls would love to bring me home to mummy and daddy!"

"I'm sure, dear," Alex murmurs, stirring her broth and bringing another spoonful to her mouth.

"Between the beard, your charming language and that uncanny ability to annoy within five minutes of entering a room, I'm honestly not quite sure how I've managed to keep my hands to myself."

"Too right," Harry mutters, glaring at her.

Laughing, Alex pushes her pudding toward him as a peace offering. Harry dives on the gift, snatching it up with a wink that says all is forgiven. Quite used to their bickering by now, Matt pushes aside his dinner and reaches for his own pudding, though it doesn't look a thing like pudding used to look.

Using his spoon to peel away the filmy substance of the top layer, Matt scrapes it off the utensil using the edge of his food tray and nudges Alex. "Share mine, Kingston?"

"If you like." She smiles up at him expectantly and he brings a spoonful of pudding to her mouth, watching her lips part to accept. She wrinkles her nose, looking revolted. "I still say pudding shouldn't have to be chewed."

"Oi, it's improving," he says, distracted for a moment by the way she licks her lips. "At least it doesn't have that weird aftertaste anymore."

"Aftertaste?"

At her wrinkled brow, he realizes she hasn't been here since the beginning. Sometimes, he forgets that she hasn't always been with him. He remembers his life after the outbreak as a bit like walking through a dense fog in slow motion until Alex stumbled back in again and set everything to rights. "Ah, I forgot you missed that particular delicacy." He taps her nose, forcing a smile. "Every bite of pudding left this taste in your mouth. I can't describe it -"

"Cleaning solution and old meat," Harry supplies, still preoccupied with his dessert.

"Yeah." Matt nods his thanks. "That."

"And you still ate it?" Alex stares at him in disgust.

"Oi, I was hungry."

She shakes her head, snagging his wrist and directing the spoon up to her mouth for another bite. "I may never snog you again."

"Says the woman chewing her pudding," Matt snipes, and leans into her personal space until she gives in and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. "I'm irresistible."

"Oh I know," she sighs, just enough purr in her voice to make him nearly drop his spoon. She pushes him away with a wink, turning to sip her water.

Left blinking at her, a red flush coloring his cheeks, Matt scratches his chin and drops his eyes, feeling strangely warm all over. "Wench," he mutters.

Alex laughs.

"So, if you're done making doe eyes at each other," Harry begins, shoving a bite of pudding into his mouth and mumbling around it, "I've got news."

She sighs. "Go on then. We're listening."

Matt rests his chin in his open palm and stares at Harry, eyes widened in mock fascination. "Please. Talk to us, Harry. We've barely heard from you in the last ten seconds. I'm starting to forget what your voice sounds like."

Harry kicks him under the table. "Arsehole."

Alex rolls her eyes. "Boys, don't make me separate you."

Slinging an arm across her shoulders, Matt draws her close and kisses the top of her head, inexplicably happy just to have her here – really here, in the present and talking to them. Not so long ago, she spent their dinner hour staring into space and barely eating. She's almost like his Alex again, thinner and with ghosts lurking in her eyes, but Alex. Not the stranger with her face he found all those months ago. "Sorry, mate," he says to Harry, keeping her close. "Go on."

Harry gazes them with exasperation but his blue eyes are bright and smiling, like he knows exactly what Matt is thinking and agrees with him. He ducks his head and takes another bite of pudding, talking around it again, likely in an attempt to be as irritating as possible. "They're sending out another party tomorrow."

Forcing himself to concentrate on something other than the way Alex's curls tickle his cheek and the underside of his jaw, Matt blinks at him. "What for?"

Harry shrugs. "Apparently there's another antidote the government wants to try."

Alex brightens. "Really? But that's wonderful!"

"Don't get excited yet, Kingston," Matt says, turning his head to nudge his nose gently against her temple. "Nothing's worked so far."

She reaches up to cup his face briefly, fingers stroking over his stubble. "We have to have a breakthrough eventually, darling. We can't go on like this forever."

They've been living like this so long, it's almost impossible to imagine it ever changing. Sometimes he feels like he'll grow old and die in this bunker and whenever that feeling creeps upon him, he itches to stumble outside and allow himself to be food first. He shudders at the thought, holding Alex just a little tighter against him.

"They're leaving in the morning," Harry continues. "Should be back in a day or two."

"Will they test it on animals first?"

Finishing his pudding, Harry licks his spoon and eyes Alex thoughtfully. "Why? Hoping to sign Cadbury up?"

"Oh, shut up, Harry," she huffs.

Smirking, Matt shakes his head and laces their fingers together. "They'll have already tested it on

animals before sending it out for trials."

Alex frowns. "How will we know if it works? Wait around for someone to get infected and try it on them?"

"I don't think we'll have to wait long. A three day journey? What are the odds they'll all make it back unharmed?" Harry shakes his head, his mouth a thin line. "I'll be fucked if they don't need to use it on themselves before they get back."

Alex looks ill at the thought and Matt rubs a hand up and down her back, casting Harry a dark look. "They'll be fine. They know how to look after themselves out there."

"Course they do. Doesn't mean something can't happen. How many close calls have you had? And no one is more experienced at dealing with the infected than you are." Harry frowns. "In fact, I'm shocked they didn't ask you to go along."

Matt glances away guiltily.

Harry stares at him. "They did ask you. Why the hell aren't you going?"

Tensing, Alex turns to look at him, pulling away from his grasp in shock. "Darling, you didn't tell me they asked you on the expedition."

He shrugs. "I turned them down. It wasn't worth mentioning."

"Why did you?"

"I just didn't want to go."

Still watching him with disapproval, Harry asks, "Afraid I'd move in on your bird while you were gone, Smith?"

Alex rolls her eyes, glancing at him over her shoulder. "As if I'd stay here with you and let Matt

go on a three sodding day journey without -" She stops, eyes widening as she turns back to look at Matt. "That's why you turned it down. You knew I would want to go."

"Alex -"

Her jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as she yanks her arm out of his grip. "Afraid I would fuck things up somehow?"

"What? No," he sputters. "I think you've proven you're perfectly capable. But they didn't ask you, sweetheart. You're too new. They don't even want me taking you out with me – I just do it anyway!"

Her jaw quivers and she swallows, eyes bright and intense as she studies him. "So why didn't you just go without me then?"

"Because it was a lot easier to leave before you. Now I actually have someone to come back to." He reaches for her hand, squeezing her fingers tightly. "I'd like to keep it that way."

Alex blinks away tears, her answering smile watery. "I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have -"

He shakes his head, kissing her knuckles. "My fault. I should have said something."

"'I actually have someone to come back to?'" Harry quotes with a dramatic huff. "Nice to see how much I mean to you, prick."

Matt sends him a grateful look and smiles. "No offense, mate, but coming back to your ugly mug just isn't quite the same."

"I'm a brilliant cuddler," he insists, pointing an accusatory finger at Matt. "And you know it."

Alex raises an eyebrow. "Don't bother explaining that. I'd rather remain oblivious."

"What's oblivious mean?"

The three of them turn as one and stare at the group of little girls standing at the end of the table, watching them curiously. Alex recovers first, clearing her throat. "It means unaware. To not know something." She gives them a stern look. "For example, are your minders oblivious to the fact that you've sneaked out of your sector and into ours?"

Olive and Holly exchange a mischievous glance before Olive shrugs. "We wanted to see you."

"Shouldn't you be eating with the other children?" Matt frowns at them all, watching Olive and Holly clamber onto the seat next to Harry. Grace climbs instantly into Alex's lap and curls up there, clinging to her.

"We already did." Holly beams. "We ate really fast."

"Well now you're going to get indigestion." Harry tugs on her pigtail, grinning when she swats him away. "Nice going, smartarse."

"Language, Harry," Alex scolds half-heartedly. Asking Harry not to swear is like asking anyone else not to breathe. "At least try."

"Sorry. Smartypants."

Holly shrugs. "S'alright. Our minders always swear a lot."

Sighing, Alex hugs Grace tightly to her and asks, "Did you have time to eat before they dragged you off?"

She nods, fiddling with the neck of Alex's t-shirt as she asks softly, "Can I play with Cadbury?"

Alex shakes her head, smoothing a hand over Grace's cheek. "Not tonight, dear. You should be headed to bed."

Eavesdropping from across the table, Olive groans. "But we just got here!"

"Oi," Harry lifts a scolding finger, waggling his brows. "No arguing. You heard mum." The moment he says it, the blood drains from Alex's face and it's been weeks since the last time Matt saw her look quite so devastated. Harry realizes his mistake only a moment later, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Jesus, Alex. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head silently, eyes already brimming over, and shifts Grace into Matt's lap. "Put them to bed, please," she says, voice wavering as she stands quickly and hurries from the canteen, her head down.

They sit in silence, staring after her. Olive is the first to speak, poking Harry in the side. "Nice going, smartarse."

Harry groans and tugs at his hair. "I'm such a fucking idiot," he mutters.

Blinking, Matt tears his gaze away from where Alex had been and shakes his head. "Just a slip of the tongue. Don't beat yourself up over it." He stands with Grace in his arms and places her on his chair by herself. "Can you look after them?"

Harry hesitates. "I think maybe she might need a minute, mate."

"And what am I supposed to do? Just sit here?"

He's right. Matt knows he's right. Harry, as ridiculous as he may be, manages to talk sense most of the time. That doesn't mean he has to like sitting idly by, knowing Alex is upset elsewhere.

"I didn't say that." Harry swats away Holly's questing hands trying to tug curiously at his beard. "You could do what Alex said and put these horrible little demons to bed." He pauses, glancing at Grace, watching them in silence through big brown eyes. "Except her. She's quiet and adorable. She can stay."

"Rude," Holly mutters, abandoning his facial hair to slump in her seat next to Olive.

Mind still preoccupied, Matt begins to herd the girls from the table and out of the canteen but the sound of Harry's voice stops him in his tracks. "When you find her, tell her I'm sorry, yeah?"

Holly tugs at his trouser leg and he bends to pick her up, settling her on his hip. "She's not upset with you, Treadaway."

"Yeah, I know." Harry fiddles with his empty pudding cup, not meeting his eyes. "Tell her anyway."

Nodding, Matt turns on his heel and walks from the canteen, Olive and Grace trailing after him. When he realizes they're struggling to keep up, he takes a deep breath and slows his stride. Alex needs some time to herself. There's no use rushing to put the girls to bed. Catching up with him, Grace slips her small hand into his and keeps her eyes on her shoes.

"Hey Gracie," he says softly, squeezing her fingers. "Alright?"

She shrugs.

He sighs. "Alex is fine, you know. She just needed some time alone."

"We make her sad," Holly mumbles against his shoulder.

"Alex said we make her happy," Olive says, tugging at the hand Grace isn't clinging to. "Was she fibbing, Matty?"

"Of course not, silly." He leads them through the long corridor leading to their sector and opens the door, allowing Olive and Grace to slip through before he enters still carrying Holly. One of the volunteers in charge of looking after the children glances up at their entry, sees the girls and throws up his hands. "Notice they were gone yet?"

The volunteer glares at the girls. "Two of our volunteers are searching for them now."

Olive giggles, waving at him.

Matt smiles thinly. "I'll put them to bed if you like."

Waving his hand, the volunteer slumps back in his seat and reaches for his communicator to alert the others. "Please do," he mutters. "Bloody kids."

Holly is already half-asleep against his shoulder as he leads them to the next room and their beds. Mindful of the other children already sleeping, he steps around their books and toys carefully, pulling back the blanket on Holly's cot first. He lays her head on her pillow and pulls the blanket up to her chin, brushing her blonde hair from her forehead. She eyes him sleepily, hand wrapped around his wrist.

He taps her nose, glancing over his shoulder to watch Grace and Olive clamber into bed by themselves. Waiting until they're both settled, he says softly, "You know Alex lost her little girl, yeah? Just like you lot lost your mums and dads."

They nod tiredly, hanging on his every word.

"Well, she tries very hard not to think about that." He shakes his head. "Sometimes she even lets herself be happy. With you three and with me. We make her happy. And when something reminds her of her little girl, she feels guilty."

Holly frowns. "Why?"

"Because she feels like she should be sad all the time," he answers honestly. "Because if she isn't sad, then it's like she's forgetting."

"That's silly," Olive mumbles sleepily. "Her little girl would want her to be happy. She makes us happy but we're not forgetting our mums and dads. They'd want Alex to take care of us."

His mouth twitching in a smile, Matt nods. "That's right. They definitely would." He ruffles Holly's hair and climbs to his feet, walking to Olive's cot and tugging the blankets tighter around her. "Alex wasn't lying when she said you three make her happy, yeah? Sometimes you just remind her that she doesn't want to be." He goes to Grace's cot and tucks her rag doll in beside her. "Now get some rest, alright?"

Grace yawns. "Will we see Alex tomorrow?"

"Absolutely." He leans down and kisses her forehead. "And Cadbury."

She nods, eyes slipping shut. "Night, Matty."

Straightening, he glances around the room at three of them quickly slipping into dreams and sighs. "Goodnight, girls."

He doesn't bother looking for Alex once he leaves the girls to sleep. He already knows where she'll be. Heading right for their room, he pushes open the door and slips inside, the knot in his chest loosening just a little at the sight of her perched on the edge of their bed, Cadbury curled up on her lap.

Slowly, he slips out of his boots and pulls his t-shirt over his head, tossing into the corner of the room. Alex doesn't turn to look at him and he scrubs a hand through his short hair, rounding their bed and settling onto the edge of it with her. At his nearness, Cadbury hisses and leaps from Alex's lap, disappearing under their bed. The damn thing hates him for some reason. Matt is happy to say the feeling is entirely mutual.

Alex still doesn't move, trembling hands folded in her lap and her face worryingly blank. She says nothing but he can feel the tension in her frame. If he reached out a hand, he's sure he could actually feel the walls she has resurrected around herself but he doesn't try to touch her, swallowing thickly.

Maybe it's time.

Scratching at his cheek, he licks his dry lips and starts to talk. "I was out with Harry when it happened. We were at a music festival." Alex says nothing but he sees her watching him out of the corner of her eye. "One minute we were listening to Arcade Fire and Harry was plotting to hook up with some bird with purple braids in her hair… the next people were screaming, stepping on each other to get back to their cars."

He's never spoken of this to anyone before. It feels so strange now. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he forges ahead. "The streets were mass chaos by the time we made it back to London proper. There were bodies, god, just everywhere. But we couldn't get out of the car, you know? Just had to drive over them." He still dreams about it sometimes, the sound it made as his tires rolled over them. "We got to Harry's place first and the only one left was his dog. And we had to kill him three days later once the infection set in. Harry was damn near catatonic for months."

"I don't remember the drive to my parents'. I just remember pulling onto our street and seeing Lor's car on the side of the road. She hadn't even made it to the house." His voice cracks and Alex reaches out instantly, her grip on his hand like a vice. "Inside… it looked like Mum had been infected. The whole place was…" He trails off, biting his lip hard. "There was a struggle. I think me dad tried to stop her. The infection hadn't set in yet. I waited. And then I put him down."

As he swallows around the lump in his throat, Alex shakes her head and blinks away tears. "Matt, I'm so sorry, darling. But… why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to know you're not alone in your grief, Kingston. Everyone has lost someone. That doesn't mean we have to be miserable for the rest of our lives." He leans his elbows on his knees and glances to his right, watching her through his fringe. "They wouldn't want that for us. Especially Sal – you know all she ever wanted was to see you happy."

Alex leans into him, pressing her face into his shoulder blade to hide her tears. "I know," she says. "I just don't know how to do it. How do you go on and just forget?"

"You don't forget, Kingston. Not ever." He straightens and turns to take her in his arms. "But every day you get up and you live. Laugh with the girls and take care of Cadbury. Make fun of Harry. Hold my hand. And one day, it won't hurt so much to remember."

Nestled in the crook of his arm, Alex sniffles, nodding her head. He draws her down with him onto the mattress, cradling her to his chest. "How do you always know the right thing to say?"

"I never know what to say." He kisses the top of her head. "I just talk and hope it makes sense."

She releases a watery chuckle, winding an arm around his waist. "Well, it's very effective."

In that moment, with her warm and solid weight against him, her red curls in his face and her fingers stroking reassuringly up and down his side, he wants to tell her he loves her. She won't believe him, he imagines, and he'll be forced to kiss her until she does. Instead, he holds her a little tighter and says, "I'm glad."

She hums and kisses his neck, her eyelashes still wet as they brush his skin.

He shivers. "The girls are in bed."

"Thank you.'" She lifts her head. "Were they upset? I shouldn't have left them like that."

He shakes his head. "Well, a little. But I talked to them and they understand. Gracie'll want to see you first thing tomorrow though."

"Of course. And Harry?"

"Is very sorry."

"Idiot. He has no reason to be." She sighs fondly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Her eyes are tired and red but she looks so much better than she had when he came in. "I'll talk to him in the morning."

"And now?"

She strokes his fringe from his brow, her touch warm and gentle. "Just hold me?"

He smiles softly, pulling her into his arms and wrapping her up tight, relishing her curls tickling his nose and her fingers digging into his biceps. Her lips brush his bare chest and he whispers, "As long as you'll let me, Kingston."

the war outside our door keeps raging on

Chapter Summary

"Kingston, we're raiding the medical school for supplies," he mutters, turning back to the open fridge before him and scanning the neatly labeled syringes for something the doctors in the bunker could use. He can't decide and just gathers them all, dropping them into his increasingly burgeoning satchel. "We're not Christmas shopping."

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars.

He doesn't know how they managed it but they actually found a floor of King's College that hasn't been looted clean yet. While Alex keeps a lookout, he stuffs medical supplies into his satchel, quickly scanning the room and rummaging through fridges, cabinets, and drawers for anything useful.

"Darling, look." She holds up a stethoscope. "The girls would love this."

Well, Alex is supposed to be keeping a lookout.

"Kingston, we're raiding the medical school for supplies," he mutters, turning back to the open fridge before him and scanning the neatly labeled syringes for something the doctors in the bunker could use. He can't decide and just gathers them all, dropping them into his increasingly burgeoning satchel. "We're not Christmas shopping."

"Oh hush." Alex slips the satchel into her bag and slinks up to him, smiling. "They're mine and I'm spoiling them."

Turning, he grins at her. "Yours, huh? You know, they were my girls well before they even knew you."

She huffs a few curls from her eyes and sniffs at him. "I'll share if I must."

Still smiling like an idiot, he leans in and kisses her, wrapping a hand around the back of her neck to drag her in close. On her tiptoes, Alex presses against him and he can feel her lips curving beneath his. It makes his heart leap in his chest. She's happy. For now, they both are. It's the little moments – even bickering and snogging in an abandoned medical school – Matt has learned to savor.

Pulling away, Alex watches him through hooded eyes and licks her lips. "Come on, then," she says softly, completely oblivious to the way his stomach somersaults. "Let's finish up and go home."

Letting his hand fall from her neck but not before trailing softly along her jaw first, Matt takes a deep breath and shakes off the fluttering feeling of complete adoration he gets whenever she's near, turning back to his task as Alex retreats to the doorway to keep watch. After another few minutes of stuffing nearly everything he can fit into his satchel, he's just about finished. He opens his mouth to tell Alex they can go when they both hear a crash from the floor below them.

Alex gasps softly, whirling to look at Matt. "They're here."

Cursing, Matt closes his satchel, adjusts it over his shoulder, and races to the nearest window, looking out. "They're not in the alley. Come on, we'll use the fire escape."

Moving from the hallway, Alex shuts and locks the door as the noises from downstairs grow louder. She already has her gun in hand, eyes fiercely determined as she strides to the window and joins him in looking out. "Once we're down, we'll go around the back," she says. "I doubt they came in that way. Door's trickier."

He nods in agreement, struggling to shove the neglected window up so they can climb through. The noises from downstairs have moved up and they can hear quick, agile footsteps in the hallway outside the door. "You first," he says, pushing her forward. "Quietly, yeah?"

He helps her climb through the window, a hand on her elbow, and she waits on the landing for him to slip out after her. He catches his foot on the window ledge and stumbles, nearly dropping his satchel. Alex steadies him, helping unhook his foot from the window and shoving the strap of his satchel back up his shoulder. "Honestly Matthew," she says in a hushed voice. "How did you ever escape from these things alive without me?"

"No idea," he admits, and flashes her a quick grin as the door in the room behind them begins to rattle.

The fire escape makes a racket no matter how softly they try to move, squeaking and rattling with every step they take. So they give up trying to be stealthy and just try to be quick instead, reaching the bottom of the fire escape and leaping to the alley beneath them. Alex lands on her feet and steadies Matt again when he stumbles, her hand tight in his.

They walk quickly but quietly around the back of the building, winding through the alley and stumbling out onto the main road a few blocks away. Alex tucks her gun back into her trousers and breathes a sigh of relief as the immediate danger passes. "That was a bit too close for comfort, darling."

He laughs, slipping his fingers into the belt loop of her jeans to tug her into his side. "We've had worse," he argues mildly, kissing her hair.

Before she can answer, the sound of snarling reaches their ears and they whirl to find about three infected behind them, fast approaching. They were followed. Growling under her breath, Alex reaches for her gun again as Matt scrambles for his. Clicking off the safety, she snaps, "You just had to say it, didn't you?"

"Sorry," he says, wincing. "But hey, as a gesture of contrition, I'll let you shoot first."

"Such a gentleman," she purrs, and god, he hasn't heard that particular voice since her days as River Song. Alex looks a bit like her now, her whole frame vibrating with adrenaline, gun cocked, her eyes bright and her hair wild. Despite the situation, he feels a frisson of desire trickle up his spine at the sight of her.

Alex fires at the leader of the little pack advancing toward them and it only makes matters worse for Matt when she shoots it right between the eyes. "Someone's been practicing," he mutters, heat curling in his belly.

She glances over her shoulder at him with laughter in her eyes. "Can't have you thinking you're a better shot than me, can I? What would River say?"

Laughing, he turns from her and manages to actually focus, firing another bullet in the head of the next one too. There's only one left, closer than ever. He stumbles back, pulling Alex with him, and fires again. He misses, clipping it in the shoulder.

This only serves to make it angrier. The infected roars, visage twisted in a nasty snarl as it picks up speed. Matt thinks about running but they'd never be fast enough. Besides, the thing is close enough to hear their heartbeats now. It could track them for miles with just that alone.

Alex shoots and misses, swearing profusely.

The infected lunges at them and Matt drops to the ground to avoid it, yanking Alex with him. Lying on his belly in the debris littering the street, he raises his arm again as the infected turns around, head tilted to listen for the sound of their rapid breathing and racing hearts. "Fuck off, mate," he mutters, and fires.

It drops to the ground, diseased blood pooling on the asphalt. Matt stands slowly, helping Alex to her feet, and the touch of her hand tingles all through him like an electric current. She's breathing hard, staring at him with dark eyes, pupils dilated. His stomach twists.

She dusts herself off, ruffling her hair and shaking it free of brick and ash. "The others will have heard that."

Tucking his revolver away, Matt suggests, "Leg it?"

She nods. "Definitely."

They run the rest of the way back to the bunker, adrenaline and desire fueling their journey. The last few rays of sunlight are just disappearing as they descend underground and go through security, still panting. Matt leaves his findings for them to sort through and Alex drags him through crowded corridors. He isn't the least bit surprised when she opens the door to their room and shoves him inside.

"Not even showering first?" He asks teasingly as she shuts the door. "You really want me, don't you, Kingston?"

"Shut up," she mumbles, and yanks him down to her by the collar of his shirt.

Her kiss is bone-meltingly hot and Matt slides his hands down her back with a shudder, pulling her top up and over her head. He drops his mouth to her neck, sucking and biting, tasting sweat as Alex fumbles for the button and zipper on his jeans. "You are a clumsy idiot," she hisses, and he nods mindlessly in agreement, yanking roughly at the clasp on her bra and stripping it off her.

"How you made it this far without me, I've no idea."

"Your fault," he mumbles, toeing out of his boots. Letting her shove his trousers and pants down his hips, he kicks them aside and grasps her hips, grinding his erection against her jean-clad thigh with a moan. "You're distracting,"

She sighs softly, tugging off his shirt so roughly she nearly rips it in half. "Want me to stay here and let you go alone then?"

"Not a chance," he says, and releases a low moan as she wraps a hand around his cock, guiding him backwards and to their bed. He drops onto the mattress, scooting across their joined cots to balance just right – the last thing he wants right now is a repeat of that first night. Alex sheds her jeans and knickers before climbing onto the bed and he can only stare at her bare golden skin, slick with sweat, feeling his brain short circuit as she straddles him. "You are so fucking sexy."

She kisses her way up his stomach but she isn't gentle about it, sinking her teeth into his skin and leaving red marks as she goes. When she reaches his throat, he's gripping her hips tightly and panting, quite sure that even if she wanted to use those gleaming teeth to rip out his jugular, he'd let her. Instead, she licks a long stripe up his throat and ends with a playful nip to his chin.

It's all the foreplay she allows before she takes his cock in hand again and guides him to her entrance. He can feel the head radiating from her core, her arousal slick against the head of his erection. "Oh Jesus, Alex," he breathes, meeting her eyes as she sinks down on him. "Oh fuck."

Heat envelops his cock and he releases a guttural groan, hips lifting off the bed to drive himself deeper. Alex keens, tossing her head back as he fills her. She doesn't give either of them time to adjust and he can only stare up at her in awe as she begins to move. Smeared with dirt and sweat, her red curls a tumbling mess down her back, she has never looked more incredible than she does now, sliding up and down his cock, palming her own breast. Smoothing his hands up her thighs and over her hips, he pushes her hands aside to replace them with his own.

God, he loves her breasts. They're perfect, overflowing in his hand, and he greedily watches rounded flesh spill over as he squeezes. "Gorgeous." He lifts his hips again to watch her eyes flutter and roll back. "So utterly -"Alex drops her hands to his chest and begins to grind in slow circles, mouth open and head tipped back to let the ends of her hair brush the small of her back. Matt chokes on a moan, watching her stomach muscles undulate as she moves. "That's it, Kingston," he whispers gruffly. "Fuck me. Just like that, sweetheart."

Leaning down, hands on either side of his head, Alex grinds her hips and moans his name desperately. He grasps her waist, pushing up to create some friction between his abdomen and her

clit. She fists her hands in the sheets, crying out, and he slides a hand down her back to grip her arse, thrusting against her again and again as she babbles his name and her swollen clit throbs.

She arches on top of him, her breasts right in his face, and when she teases a nipple against his lips, he opens his mouth eagerly to suckle. She gasps as his tongue snakes out to taste the sweat on her skin, hips jerking and hands white-knuckled in the sheets. "Oh god," she breathes. "More -"

He sucks harder, gripping her tightly to him, and rolls them over. Suddenly spread out beneath him, Alex stares up at him in the dark, eyes glittering and unfocused as he sinks inside her again. She wraps her legs around his waist tightly, her nails already digging into his back as he starts a hard, fast rhythm. They slide together perfectly, skin slick with sweat and mouths hot and greedy. Within moments, they're both screaming.

Panting harshly, Matt rolls over onto his back and stares into the dark, chest heaving. Again, the urge to tell her how much he loves her is nearly overwhelming, but he stifles it with, "God, you're incredible."

Alex laughs softly, reaching across the mattress to find his hand. "Mutual, darling," she says, and links their fingers together. "But we should get up and shower while everyone's eating."

He frowns into his pillow. "But then we'll miss dinner."

"Well we can't go smelling like blood and sex."

That description from her mouth should not cause such stirrings of arousal. "Why not?"

"Matthew."

He sighs, dragging himself into a sitting position. "Fine. But let's hurry up. I want pudding."

By the time they stumble out of the shower, the canteen has closed for the evening. Matt's stomach rumbles as they trudge back to their room. It's times like these he really misses having his own kitchen. Blimey, even a late night run to Tesco would be amazing right about now. His mind wanders to his old favorite – egg and cress sandwiches, always fresh and delicious in the store's deli – and his mouth waters. Groaning, he shoves the image aside before it turns into a real craving.

As he falls into bed beside Alex, his stomach grumbles again, audibly this time. He pats his belly, shrugging when Alex winces. "At least I'll really appreciate breakfast."

She curls into his side, her damp hair filling his nostrils with the clean scent of soap. "I'm sorry, darling. We should have gone to dinner first."

"Smelling of blood and sex?" He affects a scandalized gasp. "Kingston, I'm not one of your whores."

She snorts, elbowing him in the side. "Shut up and go to sleep, idiot."

He just about manages to do just that, warm beneath their blanket and Alex cuddled close against him, when he hears the door to their room creak open. Half asleep, he lifts his head groggily from his pillow and watches the door shut. Dozing against his shoulder, Alex doesn't see the three little shadows moving closer to the bed but he does, squinting in the dark. He sees of flash of little red cowboy boots and grins.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"You missed dinner," Olive whispers back, sounding cross.

"Sorry," he says softly. "We got back too late. Did you eat with Harry?"

She nods. "We brought back Cadbury."

Matt peers behind her and sees Grace holding the cat in her arms. With Alex feeding him, the animal has gotten quite fat and nearly overwhelms poor little Grace. "Was he a pain?"

Grace shakes her head. "He likes me."

That he does. While Alex feeds him ridiculous amounts of food and cuddles him, Grace plays with him and reads him stories. They're the only two people Cadbury seems to tolerate. "Well, thank you for looking after him while we were gone. I know Alex appreciates how great you are

with him."

Grace blushes and allows Cadbury to leap from her arms and onto the bed. Immediately, the cat jumps from the bed and disappears beneath it, as far from everyone as he can get.

"Matty?" Holly tugs at his arm, biting her lip. "Can we sleep here tonight?"

He sighs, watching their hopeful faces. "Girls, I don't think that's a good idea. You should be in your own beds."

"Just for tonight," Olive pleads. "Not all the time."

"It's such a long walk back," Holly pouts. "And it's so dark."

"Oh well played," Matt grumbles, lifting the blanket. "Come on then."

Immediately, Grace scrambles onto the bed and tucks herself into Alex's side, waking her. She blinks open her eyes and frowns at the curly-haired bundle nestled against her before slowly lifting her gaze to find Holly clinging to Matt and Olive squished between both of them. "What -?"

He offers her a sheepish grin. "We have visitors, Kingston."

She sighs, threading her fingers through Grace's curls. "Goodnight, girls."

A chorus of three little voices rings out, "G'night, Alex."

"Darling, have you seen Cadbury?" Matt glances up from rummaging beneath Harry's cot – there's bound to be alcohol somewhere in this mess – to find Alex standing over him with a frown, Grace clinging to her side. "Grace wanted to play with him but I can't find him anywhere."

"Not since this morning," he says, and sticks his head beneath Harry's cot again. "He was chasing a mouse through security."

"Security?" If he were paying closer attention, he would hear the disapproval in Alex's voice, but he's too busy trying to blindly locate a bottle of whiskey before Harry comes back and finds him. "That's right by the exit."

"Uh huh."

"You didn't think to stop him?"

"Should I have?"

Alex sighs. "Considering he could have slipped out the door the moment anyone left, yes, I imagine you should have."

"Cadbury's gone?" Grace's voice wobbles as she tugs on Alex's hand. At the sound of it, Matt gives up his search for booze and sits up, smacking his head against the edge of Harry's cot as he does so.

Biting back a curse, he rubs at his head and watches Alex stoop to look Grace in the eye with a smile. "I'm sure he's perfectly fine, dear. Probably roaming about down here somewhere, stalking that mouse."

Grace watches her skeptically. "Then why can't we find him?"

"Because he doesn't want to be found," Matt answers quickly. "Cats are like that, Gracie. Sometimes they just want to be alone for a bit."

Alex nods encouragingly. "That's right. He'll show up when he's ready."

Still looking unconvinced, Grace bites her lip and nods.

Stroking her cheek, Alex smiles. "Why don't you go back to mine and Matty's room to wait for him to come back, hmm?"

Grace hugs her legs before she leaves and Alex waits until she leaves the room before turning on Matt with a frown he'd been expecting. "Why would you let him wander that far?"

He sifts a hand through his hair guiltily. "I don't know. I just wasn't thinking. Besides, that cat hates me. Even if I'd tried to go anywhere near him, he'd have scratched me to pieces."

"Well you'd better hope he turns up soon or you and I are going out looking for him."

He groans. "Kingston, he's a cat. They're silent, sneaky animals. He'll be fine. Or he'll be eaten as a snack."

She narrows her eyes at him.

He sighs. "Give it twenty four hours first?"

"No more than that," she warns, perching on the edge of Harry's cot. "Now what are you doing in here?"

"Looking for booze."

"Why?"

He shrugs.

"Oh yes, very subtle," she laughs, reaching out to pet his hair. "What are you hiding?"

Leaning into her touch, he frowns up at her. "Well, I was going to ask you on a proper date but you're ruining it."

"A proper date?" She laughs again, eyes bright as she stares at him in confusion. "Darling, that's very sweet but where? In the middle of an infected city?"

"None of your business, Kingston." He nudges her hand away from his hair, smirking. "Are you accepting my invitation or not?"

Studying him in silence for a moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, Alex finally smiles. "Alright. Pick me up at eight?"

"It's a date."

He spends the rest of the day plotting, pulling Harry into his scheme. It isn't much but Alex has been through a lot and more than anything, he just wants to make her happy. Under normal circumstances, he would woo her with flowers and dinners and tickets to see shows. He would text her every morning and every night to let her know she was on his mind when he woke up and before he went to bed. But these aren't normal circumstances and so far, all he's given her is a gun and some shooting lessons. He's determined to fix that tonight – a mass infection and the end of civilization is no reason not to woo a woman like Alex.

There's a little storage closet filled with all the clothes he's managed to bring back over the years and after a bit of rummaging, he actually finds a dress that will fit Alex. It's simple black dress with sheer sleeves – far too tame for Alex's usual bohemian flare – but it's certainly a step up from jeans and t-shirts.

He lays the dress out on their bed for her and slips away before Alex comes back from her rotations. It's become a bit of a routine to tuck the girls in every night, though he doesn't know how or when the habit began. It feels natural now, like something they've always done. Usually, Alex reads to them before bed but tonight, Matt tucks them in alone.

"Where's Alex?" Holly asks for at least the third time.

Patiently tucking her in once more, Matt adjusts his bowtie – another salvage from the clothing storage – and says, "She's getting ready."

"What for?"

"To have dinner."

"Dinner is over," Olive points out.

"This is a special dinner," he says, smiling. "So go to sleep and Alex will see you all in the morning, alright?"

Holly and Olive huff their grudging consent but he still hasn't heard a peep from Grace. She's been more quiet than usual this evening. Knowing she's likely still fretting over Cadbury's disappearance, Matt crouches by her bed and taps the end of her nose with a smile. "Cadbury's a smart little beast. I wouldn't worry about him."

She nods, curling onto her side away from him and shutting her eyes without a word.

Matt sighs, leaning in to kiss the back of her head. "Goodnight, Gracie."

It's nearly eight as he leaves the girls to sleep so he heads back to the room he shares with Alex, trying to push Grace's little face from his mind. She's been so much happier lately, so much more talkative, and now she seems to be headed backwards again. If that damn cat doesn't turn up tomorrow, he'll actually have to go searching for it just to bring that smile back.

When he reaches their room, he pauses to knock and Alex answers almost instantly, standing in the doorway with a smile. "Good evening, sir."

He gapes at her. The dress fits her perfectly, clinging to every reemerging curve he so loves. She has pinned back half of her hair, leaving the rest flowing down her shoulders, and he doesn't know how she'd done it in an underground bunker but she'd managed to find lipstick somewhere because her lips are red and begging to be kissed.

Looking a little self-conscious, Alex plucks at the skirt of her dress, glancing down at her bare feet. "What do you think?"

Finally forcing himself from his wide-eyed stupor, Matt takes her hand in his and manages, "Well,

if we held beauty pageants during the apocalypse, you'd definitely win."

She rolls her eyes, looking up at him again with a smile that he might almost call shy if she were anyone but Alex. "Thank you, darling. You look -" Her eyes drop to his bowtie and she laughs brightly, reaching out to straighten it with practiced ease. "You look very dashing. Almost like a real person instead of a dirty wild man with a gun."

"You like my gun." He winks, holding out his arm to her. "Shall we then?"

She grins, slipping her arm through his. "I suppose so."

The canteen is deserted by now; even the kitchen staff has left. The room is dark save for the lit candles artfully arranged around the room. Matt leads her to a table lit with candles and holding a vase of wildflowers he'd picked outside the bunker earlier today.

He pulls out her chair for her and she laughs, glancing around as she sits. "The whole room to ourselves?" She asks, and he loves how delighted she sounds by such a simple feat. "How romantic."

"Only the best for you, Kingston," he winks, sliding into the seat across from her.

As if to punctuate his statement, their waiter appears from the kitchen, towel slung over his shoulder and ridiculous black pencil mustache drawn on over his beard. Matt drops his head into his hands and sighs as Harry begins in an obnoxious French accent, "Good evening, Madame. May I interest you in a glass of wine this evening?"

Alex bites her lip against a bout of giggles, blinking up at Harry in silence for a moment. "I -" She glances at Matt. "Darling?"

Stifling his own exasperated laughter, Matt says, "Just bring it out, idiot."

Turning on his heel and retreating to the kitchen, Harry mutters, "Rude Englishman."

Alex begins to giggle the moment he's gone, a hand pressed to her mouth.

Shaking his head, Matt reaches for her hand, pulling it away so he can see her smile. "He'll take any opportunity to do a bit of acting."

"Perhaps we should start a theatre," she says, still grinning. "We could reenact plays from memory every Friday night as entertainment for everyone."

Matt laughs. "Don't even mention that to him. He'll make us do it."

Harry comes back with their food on two trays and though there is no wine, there is definitely a bottle of whiskey and it's more than they've had in a few months. Alex lights up at the sight of it, snatching the bottle from the tray and uncapping it. "Thank you, Harry," she says, reaching for the glasses. "I mean, Monsieur."

Harry bows deeply, grasping her hand to kiss it.

Matt scowls, swatting him away. "You're dismissed." Draping the towel over Matt's head, Harry leaves them alone, still bowing like an idiot until he reaches the end of the room, at which point he turns and walks off, wiping off his mustache as he goes.

"Idiot," Matt says fondly, yanking the towel from his head.

Alex hands him a glass. "An idiot who gave us whiskey."

"Mm," he says, and takes a moment to indulge in the warm burn of alcohol sliding down his throat. "I didn't say he wasn't a lovely idiot."

She smirks at him over the rim of her glass and takes a sip, setting her drink aside. Her lips have left a red print around the edge and Matt finds himself inexplicably jealous of a cup.

Glancing up, he catches her eye across the candlelit table and asks, "Dance with me, Kingston?"

She laughs again and Christ, he is rapidly becoming addicted to the sound. "Darling, there isn't any music."

Ignoring her protest, Matt stands and rounds the table, holding out a hand to her. Alex looks beautiful as she accepts, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling, the candlelight dancing across her skin and the hem of her dress twirling around her knees as she stands. He pulls her into his arms and holds her close, humming softly. "How's this?"

She smiles into his shoulder. "Much better."

They sway together in silence for a while, Alex pressed close to him and the sweet scent of her making him feel warm and relaxed, like a good dream. "I'm so glad I found you," he whispers.

Alex presses her lips softly to the underside of his jaw. "So am I."

"I thought about you often," he admits quietly, stroking his fingers up and down her back. "After the outbreak. I wondered what happened to you, if you'd survived." He swallows nervously but pushes on. There will never be a better time to say it than now. "I wondered what it would have been like if I'd ever told you how I felt about you."

She lifts her head from his shoulder, red lips parted in surprise. "What?"

"And then there you were," he smiles down at her, eyes soft. "Like a second chance."

She breathes in quietly, gazing up at him. "Don't do this, Matt. You said it yourself – I'm just all you have left."

"Kingston, you've never been just anything." He breaks into a grin, sweeping her hair from her eyes and cupping her cheek. "I love you, Alex. I've always been absolutely mad about you. Even when I thought I'd lost you for good."

"Matt, I -" She purses her lips, eyes filling up.

His heart sinks but he shakes his head firmly, thumb sweeping over her cheekbone softly. "It's alright; you don't have to say it back. I just… I couldn't stand keeping it to myself any longer. Figured now was as good a time as any." He smiles. "Better than blurting it out during sex, yeah?"

She chokes out a laugh. "You mean a lot to me too, you know."

"Yeah?"

Taking his hand from her cheek, she places it above the neckline of her dress. Her skin is warm beneath his hand. It's not exactly a declaration of love but it's more than he ever thought he'd have. A few months ago, he thought she was dead. Now, she's in his arms, not quite whole but getting there. He kisses her again, finding solace in the way her heart's steady rhythm picks up speed when his lips touch hers.

Alex offers him a wobbly smile as they part. "You revived a heart I thought would never feel anything again."

He shakes his head. "I didn't do anything."

"You did everything . You and Harry and the girls. But mostly you – you and your bloody minded determination not to let me opt out just because the world has gone to shit." She sighs, taking his face in her hands and making him look her square in the eye. "You're the only reason I'm still here."

He swallows thickly, heart thumping madly in his chest. "No pressure or anything."

Alex laughs. "You're doing fine, darling. Just don't go anywhere."

"That's it?"

She nods, patting his cheek. "That's it."

"Well." He offers her a watery grin, bumping his nose against hers. "I think I can manage that."

when god is gone and the devil takes hold

Chapter Summary

He hears something snap in two on impact with the ground and white-hot pain shoots up and down his arm. He cries out but there's no time to panic. Just keep them away from Alex.

Chapter Notes

One chapter left! Chapter title from O Death by Jen Titus.

He wakes in the morning to Alex's hand on his arm, shaking him, and her voice in his ear. "Matt, wake up. Matt -"

Swatting her away, he groans and opens his eyes to find her looming over him, holding a fluffy and very much alive and tetchy Cadbury in her arms. "Found him?" He mumbles, and rolls over again.

"He came back this morning. But darling, Grace isn't here."

"Course not," he says into his pillow. "Go wake her. She'll be happy."

"Matt, you need to get up. Are you listening?"

He huffs, rolling back over and cracking his eyes open to squint up at her. "What?"

"I did go to wake Grace," she says, and as the sleepy haze clouding his brain begins to fade, he realizes just how pale Alex looks, and how rumpled her curls are from running her fingers through it. "But she wasn't in her room. And the girls haven't seen her all morning."

Heart skipping a beat, he sits up instantly and swings his legs over the side of the bed. "Okay, hang on. Don't panic." He scrubs a tired hand over his face and tries to think clearly. "Have you tried looking anywhere else for her? She could be wandering around looking for Cadbury again."

"Of course I checked." Alex frowns. "I wouldn't have bothered waking you if I hadn't. I've looked everywhere."

"So did we."

Raising his head quickly, Matt finds Olive and Holly hovering in the doorway. "You two didn't hear her get up this morning?"

Olive shakes her head. "When we woke up, she was already gone."

"Jesus, where the hell is she then?" Matt leaps to his feet, stumbling to his jeans and pulling them on over his boxers. He grabs a t-shirt and pulls that on too, reaching for his boots. "I'll get Harry and we'll -"

"I've got Harry and a few people on the security team searching the whole compound for her." Alex sinks down onto the bed, visibly shaking. "She couldn't have gotten outside, could she?"

"No," he answers instantly, but the more he thinks about it, the more he wonders. She's such a little thing and so sodding quiet. "I mean, I don't think so. Why would she go out anyway? She knows how dangerous it is."

"I don't know, but she isn't here, so where the hell else could she be?" Alex blinks away tears, stroking the top of Cadbury's head.

Matt glances at the girls watching them fearfully, and sits next to Alex with a sigh. "I'm sure she's fine, sweetheart. Just breathe for me, all right? Deep breaths."

Before she can even attempt to do as he asks, Harry appears behind the girls in the doorway. For once he isn't grinning like an idiot or cracking a joke. He swallows hard and wipes a hand over his mouth, reluctant to speak. Finally, he says, "We can't find her."

Heart sinking, Matt squeezes his eyes shut.

Alex sags against his side, clutching his hand. "Matt, where is she?" Her voice wavers, as thin and fragile as china. "I can't do this again. I can't-"

Eyes snapping open, he grips her hand tight enough to stall the rest of her words in her throat. Other hand reaching up to hold her chin, he makes her look directly at him, hazel eyes fierce and determined as he gazes into hers. "Don't you dare cry for her. Not yet."

She nods immediately, blinking away tears.

"Stay strong for me, yeah? I need you to hold it together, Alex."

Stricken but determined, she sets her jaw. "Okay." She swallows, nodding again, and he can almost see the walls going up around her. "Okay."

He squeezes her hands again, kissing her knuckles, and lets go, turning to Harry. "We need the security tapes."

"I can get you in," he says instantly. "Come on."

Alex deposits Cadbury on the bed and turns to Olive and Holly. "I need you two to stay right here and look after him. Don't wander off." She stoops to look them directly in the eye. "One lost little girl is enough for one day, understand?"

Olive nods solemnly. Holly hugs her leg.

"Good girls." Matt ruffles their hair and smiles. "We'll be back soon."

As Harry leads them to the surveillance room, Matt takes Alex's hand and keeps her close, letting her grip his fingers as tightly as she needs to. "How are you going to get us in?"

Harry shrugs. "I know someone."

"A girl someone?"

"Shut up, she's nice alright?"

Matt smiles.

Harry's new girl – Matt is fairly certain her name is Chloe – lets them into the surveillance room with a frown of disapproval. "Harry, I said I would meet you after my shift." She dodges his hello kiss with a faint smile but allows him to tug playfully at the long braid hanging over her shoulder. "You shouldn't be here."

"Not here for personal reasons, love." He scratches his beard, watching her from beneath his lashes, and Matt wonders if that bashful grin is actually genuine or a ploy to get what he wants. For Chloe's sake, he hopes it's the former. "I need you to do something for me. Well, for them." He gestures behind him where Matt and Alex stand, clutching hands and wearing grim faces.

Chloe sobers instantly. "Alright, with me, then."

Harry follows her back to her post, leading Matt and Alex behind him. "We've got a missing five year old. Can you pull up the feed from last night, maybe early this morning?"

She sits down in front of a screen and starts tapping at the keyboard with rapid strokes. "Just a mo'. You can sit if you like."

Matt can't think about sitting right now, not with Grace who bloody knows where, and apparently Alex feels the same way because she doesn't move or let go of his hand, her eyes fastened on the screen as Chloe brings up the security feed from the night before. She fast-forwards through hours of empty corridors and the feed winds down to the early hours of the morning.

"There!" Matt shoves Harry out of the way and points at the screen, where a little figure moves quickly and silently along the wall. "There she is."

Chloe slows down the feed and they watch in silent horror as Grace navigates the endless corridors and eventually makes her way past security and up, out into the world above. Chloe gapes at the screen and Harry scrubs a hand over his face, swearing.

Matt stares unblinkingly at the place where she disappeared, mind racing. She just left. She just walked out the door. Why the hell would she –

"Someone please tell me," Alex begins in a quiet, unsteady voice. "How in the hell does a five year old child just waltz out of a high security bunker in the middle of the night?"

Chloe turns to look at her, wide-eyed. "We don't often monitor who's leaving. We keep a close eye on the armory and most of our guards are posted to scan those coming back. We don't much care who leaves."

"Yes, because it's not your responsibility who gets eaten or infected. You only want to make sure your guns are safe and no one comes back to infect the whole sorry sodding lot of you!"

"Alex," Matt reaches for her hand but she snatches it away, glaring. "Calm down, sweetheart. This isn't Chloe's fault."

"No, I know." She takes a deep breath, turning from them to run a shaking hand through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Chloe watches her with sympathy. "She left about two hours ago. She can't be far."

Turning, Alex locks eyes with Matt and he nods, rising quickly to his feet. "Let's go."

Harry leaps from his chair. "Wait, I'm coming with you."

Alex whirls on him. "No, I need you here."

"What? No way, I can help you two idiots -"

"I have no doubt, Harry, honestly." Alex grips him by the front of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. "I would rather you did come with us. But I need you to keep an eye on Olive and Holly. Please, Harry. I won't be able to concentrate if I think they could follow us out."

Grudgingly, he nods. "Fine. But the next time one of your brats makes a great escape, I'm going. We can leave the clumsy one."

She smiles, kissing his cheek. "Thank you, dear."

They make a brief, frantic visit to the armory before they leave, loading up on ammunition. It only takes a few minutes before they're stalking past security and on their way up and out. As the stench of death and decay pervades their senses, Alex scrubs at her eyes, clearly trying to remain the pillar of strength she promised him she would be. "I just don't understand. Why would she leave?"

"Cadbury," Matt says, and the instant the word leaves his mouth, he knows it's true.

Alex turns to look at him as they move rapidly along, scanning the perimeter for any sign of Grace. "What?"

"Last night she seemed upset. I told her he'd be back but she didn't seem to believe me. I was in such a hurry to get to you and our date, I just didn't take the time to -" He tugs a hand through his hair, guilt eating away at him. "She went looking for Cadbury. Jesus, this is all my fault."

"Matt, no." Alex steps in front of him, halting him with bright green eyes and a hand on his chest. "It isn't anyone's fault and certainly not yours. But I need you right now. I need you to focus."

"Sorry." He shakes his head, squaring his jaw. "I'm here."

"Good." She releases a breath. "Now what's the plan?"

"Find her. Shoot anything that tries to stop us."

"Perfect."

The sun is just starting to come up and Matt squints against the light, scanning the horizon for any sign of Grace. They walk quickly through the devastated landscape, searching in silence. Alex's gun smacks against her thigh as she moves, the only sound for miles. It's still unnerving, walking through London and not hearing a damn thing.

The park is empty, so is the first toy store they come across, and what used to be a pet shop two doors down from it. Alex is getting increasingly anxious, though she tries to hide it from him. He can see it in every twitch of her fingers against her trigger guard, every time she scans the area and sees no sign of Grace. Her eyes are alert but somehow still far away, like even as she searches for Grace, she's reliving the loss of another little girl. She looks like she's in a nightmare no amount of screaming will wake her from.

"I can't do this again."

She blinks at the sound of his voice, eyes clearing as she turns to look at him. "What?"

He licks his lips, meeting her gaze. "That's what you said when we realized Grace was gone. You said 'I can't do this again'. And I just need to say you aren't the only one who can't go down that road."

She stares at him, eyes pained. "Matt -"

"No, I mean it. I can't lose you either, Alex. Not to the infected and certainly not to your memories and regrets." He grabs her wrist, pulling her to a stop in the middle of the street. "No matter what happens or what we find out here, you are not giving up on me, do you understand? Not again."

She blinks hard, gazing up at him in silence.

"You said I was the only reason you're still alive." A lump forms in his throat but he speaks around it, voice wavering. "Well, I'm still here. And you don't get to tap out and leave me here because things are shit again. Things are always going to be shit, Alex. That's how the world is now. But we fight it. Together. We make something worth living for out of all this. I can't do it alone. Not anymore."

Alex says nothing for a long moment, eyes dropping to his hand on her wrist. She pulls and he releases her, feeling his heartbeat in his throat. Slowly, she laces their fingers together and lifts her watery gaze to his. "I won't leave you alone, Matt."

He squeezes her hand, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

They start walking again, hand in hand. "But we'll find her, won't we?"

Matt says nothing, knowing he can only offer her platitudes she won't want to hear or promises she might hate him for later. A five-year-old little girl out here on her own? It would be a miracle if she hasn't been bitten yet – or worse. He can't tell Alex that. He's sure she already knows anyway. But he won't lie to her either. So he keeps a tight hold on her hand and focuses instead of finding the one person who can take that haunted look from her eyes. Come on, Gracie. Where are you?

About three miles away from the bunker, the screaming starts.

With a quick, terrified glance at each other, they start running towards the sound. The scream mixes with the chilling snarl of a group of infected and it echoes all around them, bouncing off buildings and traveling on the wind until it feels like the noises are coming from everywhere at once. Even the sound of her scream fills Matt with hope because it means there is still something left of Grace – she's alive, wherever she is.

It's the sight of the infected that finally gives her location away, all of them standing around clawing at the ground and growling. "Where is she?" Alex grips his arm tightly. "I don't see her."

"That's because she's hiding." Matt says grimly. "Right in there." He nods toward the small crevice between one collapsed building and the next, a space just small enough for a child to crawl through. "They can't get to her."

"Well neither can we." Alex draws her gun from the waistband of her trousers and clicks off the safety. "We need a distraction."

"I'll do it. You get Grace."

"Matt -"

"Not up for discussion, Kingston." She's mad if she thinks he's going to let her draw the ire of five infected while he runs off with Grace. He takes her face in his hands as she starts to protest again, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth before shoving her roughly away. "Go."

Not leaving her with a choice, he raises his gun in the air and fires.

The response from the infected is instantaneous. Forgetting about Grace completely, they turn and stare with unseeing eyes right in Matt's direction. He swallows, watching Alex edge closer to Grace's hiding spot with her weapon drawn. "Over here," he shouts, and they start slowly toward him. "Come on, that's it. Right this way, you little bastards."

Before he can so much as slip his finger into the trigger guard of his gun, one of them moves with superhuman speed to tackle him. He hears something snap in two on impact with the ground and white-hot pain shoots up and down his arm. He cries out but there's no time to panic. Just keep them away from Alex. His arm is useless so he lifts with his hips, rolling the infected under him and keeping it in place with a knee pressed to its gut. Panting, he presses the barrel of his gun to its forehead.

It thrashes beneath him, trying to buck him off, and it almost succeeds. Matt falls to the ground next to it with a pained groan but as the infected whirls on him with a snarl, he raises his gun with his good arm and shoots it in the face.

There isn't time to get up before the next one is on him, mouth already open to bite. Shooting with his left hand isn't quite as accurate and the bullet hits it in the shoulder, making it stumble back with a wounded shriek. Matt stumbles to his feet, cradling his arm to his chest, but he doesn't get the chance to deliver the killing shot before the third and fourth infected assault him at once.

He manages to shoot one in the leg, buying him just enough time to incapacitate the other with a swift kick to the chest. It staggers under the blow, wheezing, and Matt uses its moment of weakness to shoot it in the head, straining hard to keep his hand from trembling. His body is wracked with pain, his ribs bruised at the very least and his arm most definitely broken. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alex pulling Grace from her hiding spot, frantically checking her for bites and scratches. Finally, she clutches the girl to her chest, looking relieved.

"Run, Alex!" He shouts, turning to face the infected with the bullet in its leg, crawling its way toward him. "Go back to base."

"Not without you!"

He growls, opening his mouth to snap that getting Grace to safety is far more important than staying with him but a pair of cold, spindly arms wrap around his middle from behind, the skin so translucent he can see the muscles and tendons, purple veins frozen with blood still inside, the brittle bones beneath skin. Matt has a brief flashback to the infected he'd shot in the shoulder a few moments ago, the one that looked hungrier than the rest. He'd forgotten to kill it. Oh fuck.

His eyes flutter closed and he draws in a quiet breath as the world slows to a crawl around him. He inhales the scent always lingering in the air since the outbreak – ashes and death and just a hint of the purity of nature. In the far off distance, like a vague dream down a long, dark tunnel, he can hear Alex screaming. He pushes the sound away, choosing instead to remember the peal of her laughter. It was so rare, but always worth waiting for. She was worth waiting for and he's glad he got to spend the last few months of his life finally understanding what it was like to love Alex Kingston. They were both scarred and broken but what they had together was better than any love he ever had when he was whole and undamaged. Alex was worth every moment of pain, every nightmare, every scar.

He only wishes he didn't have to die before he could tell her so.

Teeth sink into the soft, exposed skin of his neck and the world comes into sharp focus again. The pain before was nothing compared to this. It burns. It burns like salt in an open wound, like a long pull of whiskey from the bottle, like hellfire itself. He screams.

The sound of gunfire erupts and the infected holding him in its grasp with its teeth lodged in his neck suddenly jerks back with a shriek, dropping to the ground. It doesn't move again but another shot rings out anyway. Without the damn thing to hold him up, Matt follows suit, sinking to his knees. Hot blood spills over, dripping down his skin and staining his shirt.

Footsteps run toward him but he can only stare blankly ahead, frozen with pain. The footsteps pause next to the other infected still trying to crawl its way toward him. A gun pressed to its head ends its miserable life quickly, and a booted foot kicks the creature viciously out of the way.

Another moment and Alex is on her knees in front of him, Grace dirty and tearful, clinging to her side "Darling? Matt, look at me." She takes his face in her hands, terror written all over her pale face. "Oh god."

He blinks at her, the fuzzy vision of Alex in front of him. God, he loves her. She'll do the right thing. He knows she will. He jerks forward with a cry of agony, grasping the front of her shirt. "Please," he chokes out. "Make it stop."

Tears welling in her eyes, she strokes the hair from his forehead. "It's alright, darling. You're going to be fine. We just have to get you back to base -"

"No." He grips her shirt tighter, pressing his forehead hard against hers, as if he can push the thought into her head and make her see reason. "Me. Stop me. Please."

Her eyes widen and she jerks away from him, horrified. "What? No. No, I won't."

He can feel the infection sizzling through him, spreading throughout his body and turning his veins to stone. Between the pain in his arm and the veritable fire raging through him courtesy of bastard infected #968, Matt feels like he's going to pass out any second. He doesn't want to wake up as something else. He has to make her understand. He has to make her see. "Alex," he breathes, tears of pure pain stinging his eyes. "Don't do this to me. Don't let me become that. Salome, think of – think of Sal."

"I am not shooting you." She shouts in his face, tears streaming down her cheeks. She cradles his head in her hands. "I can't. I – I love you."

He lifts a shaking hand to her hair, using his good arm, and strokes her curls weakly. "Then – need you to not be s-selfish." The words are coming slower now, it takes more effort to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. Everything hurts. Oh god, everything. "Please. Please kill me."

Outright sobbing, Alex shakes her head fiercely. "No."

There isn't much time. His vision is growing fuzzy from the pain, black spots dancing all around him. He has to do something now. He drops his hand from her hair and reaches for his gun. His hand is trembling violently but he'll try. He has to try.

"Matthew, no!" Alex lunges for the gun, quicker than him, and tosses it aside.

He screams, half in agony and half in furious anger at having his choice taken from him. "Please-"

Alex rises to her feet quickly and wraps her arm around his waist, helping him to stand on shaky legs. "It's going to be alright, darling. I know it hurts." She presses her tear-stained face into his shoulder, voice trembling but determined. "Just walk with me, all right? It isn't far." Without turning around, she holds out her other arm and says, "Gracie, take my hand. Don't let go."

It's three miles back to the bunker, which is nothing but a short stroll compared to the distances Matt is used to walking but every step he takes now is a struggle. Alex supports him as well as she can, holding him up with her whole body and catching him when he stumbles. She ignores his pleas for death and soothes his tears and whimpers of pain with softly murmured nonsense, forging ahead with the determination of a woman who has lost too much and refuses to lose

anything or anyone else.

The moment they're close enough to the bunker to be heard by looming security, Alex begins to shout for help, calling out in a voice that cracks from emotion. Grace joins her, letting go of Alex's hand to run ahead. Alex staggers to a stop just outside the entrance, dropping to her knees with Matt and breathing hard. She runs her hands over his face, her expression crumpling at the sweat she finds collecting on his fevered brow. "You are not going anywhere, do you understand me, Matthew? You promised."

He whimpers, curling his hands loosely into her hair.

Three members of security, Chloe included, surround them within moments.

Alex looks up at them gratefully, trying to pull Matt back to his feet again. "He's been hurt," she says. "He needs medical attention. Help me get him inside."

"Hang on," one the guards says, pulling a small black device from his holster. "He's bleeding. He needs to be scanned first."

"There's no time," she snaps. "He needs help."

The guard ignores her, holding the scanner right in front of her eyes. Visibly biting her tongue, Alex stares straight ahead and allows herself to be scanned until the device flashes green. "You're clear," he says, and moves on to Matt.

Unsurprisingly, the scanner flashes red within seconds. Every single guard stumbles back away from Matt like he carries the plague itself. He supposes he does. "Ma'am, we need you to back away from him. He's been infected."

"I fucking know that already," she shouts at them. "He needs help!"

Chloe flinches but ventures forward with soft, understanding eyes. "We can't bring him inside, Alex. We'd risk infecting everyone."

"What are you going to do, leave him here to die?" Alex blinks away angry tears and glares at

them all.

"I'm sorry, Alex," Chloe says softly. "I truly am."

"Not yet." She stands quickly, bracing Matt against her legs so he doesn't fall, and draws her gun on them. "But you will be if you don't let me through."

Instead of reaching for her own gun, Chloe holds up her hands calmly. "You're not going to shoot us, Alex."

"No, she's not."

Matt weakly lifts his head at the sound of Harry's voice, trying to see him through the blur of colors his vision has become.

"Because you're going to let her through." Matt listens to the sound of Harry's footsteps in the grass, striding over to him and Alex. Strong arms lift him to his feet like he's some sort of rag doll and he hangs limp in his friend's grasp. "Move out of the way."

There's the soft click of a gun being clicked off safety and then Chloe's quiet gasp. "Harry -"

"We have a fucking trial vaccine," he snaps. "And we are going to give it to him even if we have to shoot every last one of you first."

Fading away, Matt lets his head drop to Alex's shoulder and feels her lips press against the top of his head. "Hold on, darling. Stay with me."

"Let them through," someone says. "We'll put him in quarantine."

It's the last thing Matt hears before he passes out.

epilogue: the stumbles and falls brought me here

Chapter Summary

Slowly and painstakingly, he struggles to open his burning eyes. Hunger gnaws at his insides and his first reaction is to panic and flinch away from the warm hand holding his.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from The Luckiest by Ben Folds. Thank you all so much for your encouraging comments - your feedback is so important to me! I hope this last chapter satisfies:)

Slowly and painstakingly, he struggles to open his burning eyes. Hunger gnaws at his insides and his first reaction is to panic and flinch away from the warm hand holding his, until he realizes he would still take pancakes over human flesh any day of the week. Not dead then.

A tired, worn face looms over him, green eyes bright with tears and red curls tickling his face. "Darling?" Soft hands comb through his hair. "How do you feel?"

He thinks for a minute, groggy and confused. He tries to speak but the words are a harsh rasp in his throat. Alex quickly reaches for the water at his bedside, holding the cup to his lips. He drinks greedily, water droplets slipping from the corner of his mouth and down his neck. "Hungry," he tries again, clearer this time. "But not for people."

She laughs softly. "That's probably a good sign."

He leans back against his pillow, slowly taking stock of his body. His right arm is in a sling and his ribs hurt like a bastard if he squirms too much but other than that, he seems to be all right. He lifts his left hand to touch Alex only to find that he has been cuffed to his bed.

She grimaces, lacing their fingers together. "They wouldn't let you stay unless they could restrain you. We…" She trails off, eyes suddenly bright with tears. "It's been three days. We weren't sure if you were going to wake up as you."

His stomach somersaults and he squeezes her fingers, hating himself for putting her through the hell the last few days must have been. She's been through enough, hasn't she? "I'm sorry," he says softly.

"I almost lost you. And you – you asked me to kill you, Matt." She shakes her head, pursing her lips tightly. "No more stupid, heroic stunts, OK?"

"I wasn't -"

"You promised you wouldn't leave me alone. I can't lose someone else I love!"

Instantly, he remembers being on his knees, the hot sticky feeling of blood oozing from the wound in his neck. Alex in front of him, holding his face in her hands and looking at him like she'd lost him already as he begged her to end it. Her adamant refusal. He smiles suddenly, managing a weak leer. "You love me."

She flushes, glancing away. "Shut up."

He laughs faintly, thumb brushing softly over the inside of her wrist. "You don't have to be embarrassed, Kingston. Many a woman has been in your position. I'm irresistible."

Her glare is eclipsed by the relief palpable in her eyes at having him awake and alive, teasing her into a smile once more. "You're lucky you're pretty."

"I love you too, Kingston."

"I know." She leans down without another word, pressing her mouth to his and kissing him desperately until his heart monitor beeps, her lips warm and unyielding, greedy in her need to reassure herself that he really isn't going anywhere. Still cuffed to the bed, he can't reach up and hold her but he does arch into her kiss, pressing back just as eagerly and offering her a husky moan of encouragement. She pulls away licking her lips, her eyes dark. "You need to rest."

He shakes his head stubbornly. "Kiss me again."

She does, but quickly, easing off his bed.

"Where are you going?" He pouts, reaching for her. "I almost died. I need kisses."

"The girls and Harry will want to see you." She leans back in, nuzzling his nose. "And I have to fetch a doctor. Someone needs to know we have a cure."

And that's when it hits him. It's over.

"Thank god. I think me zombie fighting days are over." He lifts his eyes to hers, grinning hugely. "That last one was a real pain in the neck."

Alex's mouth drops open.

"Literally." He guffaws. "Get it? Pain in the -"

She whacks at his chest gently but firmly, struggling not to laugh. "That is terrible, Matthew. Honestly."

As Matt recovers, so does the rest of the world. More of the vaccine is produced and shipped out and suddenly people are packing their things and venturing out of the bunker, arming themselves with injections rather than guns. Alex refuses to let him go anywhere just yet, hovering over him constantly and only leaving his side to tend to the girls. When she isn't hovering, Harry takes her place and manages to be just as smothering but without the added benefit of snogging.

At last, he manages to convince her to at least let him leave the infirmary and move back into their bedroom. It's only as she guides him through the corridors – like he's bloody handicapped – that he realizes just how many people have left the safety of the bunker. It feels like they're the only ones left, save for the staff, the kids and the elderly.

"Is it really that safe out there?"

Alex shrugs, opening the door to their bedroom and ushering him inside. "They're hunting the infected now instead of the other way around. Shoot them with a dose of the cure and within a few hours, they're human again."

"I thought it was just a cure for bites and scratches, not for those who have already… changed." Stunned, he eases down onto the edge of their bed, shooing away Alex's tetchy cat. "They can come back?"

She nods, not quite meeting his eyes as she settles onto the bed next to him. "Apparently. People are starting to look for family members."

"And they remember? Being -" He gestures with a hand, speechless.

Alex nods again, bowing her head. "They're already organizing therapy for the recovered infected. Some remember more than others but… they're all traumatized."

He swallows. "But they're alive."

"Yeah."

For a moment, he can say nothing. Perched on the edge of their bed, he watches her avoid his gaze with a lump in his throat. She stares at her knees and rapidly blinks away tears. His heart squeezes in his chest. "Alex -"

"I could have had her back, Matt."

Her voice cracks and he turns swiftly, gathering her against him with his good arm and pulling her onto his lap. Alex clings to his neck and breaks, shoulders heaving under his hand and her tears scalding against his throat. Matt shushes her, rocking her gently, and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."

They curl around each other tightly, holding onto what they have left and thinking about what might have been if only things had been different.

When rebuilding begins, they leave the bunker behind and move into the city, taking the girls with them. At the moment, London is the hub of all construction and they're both eager to help remake their city but leaving the girls behind to do it isn't an option. Officially adopting them will take time and paperwork that no one has bothered to draw up just yet, but no one tries to stop them from leaving.

They manage to find a townhouse on Park Street not falling into disrepair and decay, and just move in. There still aren't any rules in this new world and at the moment, home ownership is basically finders keepers. They don't have many possessions to their name – one suitcase of clothes between Matt and Alex and one small bag for each of the girls and their books. And of course, Alex's damn cat.

Olive and Holly are nearly vibrating with excitement as their car navigates through the streets, peering out the windows and talking over each other to point things out. It's been years since they've seen the sun or the city but Grace curls into a ball in the backseat and says nothing. Since Matt was bitten, she's barely spoken two words to anyone.

Olive taps him repeatedly on the shoulder as he drives. "Are there going to be lots of rooms, Matty?"

"A few," he says with a smile. "Why?"

"Do we get our own room?"

"Don't you like sharing?" He exchanges a grin with Alex, who rolls her eyes. "I know! Why don't we all share a room together? All of my girls in one room where I can look at you all the time!"

Holly wrinkles her nose and looks at Alex, despairing.

Alex pats her cheek. "Don't worry, dear. He's only teasing."

Matt eyes Grace through the rearview mirror. She was making such progress before and now they're back where they started. "What do you think, Gracie?" He asks, startling her into looking at him. "Would you like to have your own room?"

She shrugs.

Alex places her hand over his on the gearshift, squeezing.

They settle into their new home and their new life with relative ease. He and Alex take turns helping with the reconstruction, one of them always staying home to look after the girls. When it's his turn to stay home, he kisses Alex goodbye and sends her on the way, spending his day making sure the girls are happy and entertained. He greets Alex in the evening with a kiss and dinner on the table, massaging her sore muscles in bed. He wakes every morning to her kissing the scar on his neck, just where he'd been bitten – a reminder every time he wakes up of how lucky he is.

When it's Alex's turn to stay home, he leaves in the early morning light and works until sundown, putting his blood, sweat, and tears into rebuilding the city and making it a safe place for his family. He comes home to Alex's arms and the sweet laughter of little girls – a slice of normality that helps him forget the state of the world outside their walls. Things are getting better but more people are dead than alive and a lot of people who are alive wish they weren't. No one will ever be the same again, no matter how quickly they rebuild.

One night, after a long day spent sweating under the sun, Matt gets home late – just in time to tuck the girls into bed. They each ended up getting their own room just like they wanted and he makes the rounds with an aching back, kissing first Olive and then Holly goodnight. He saves Grace for last, kneeling beside her bed and leaning in to kiss her forehead. She still doesn't say much, but he keeps trying anyway.

"Goodnight, Gracie."

As he moves to stand up, her little hand shoots out, grasping his wrist.

He freezes, blinking at her.

She purses her lips, brown eyes filling up. "Matty?"

It's the first time he's heard her voice in weeks. "Yeah, poppet?"

"I'm sorry I got you bitten."

As her little face crumples and she begins to outright sob, Matt reacts on instinct. He gathers her into his arms and sinks to the floor with her on his lap, clutching her tightly to his chest. "You didn't get me bitten, sweetheart," he breathes, smoothing back her frizzy curls. "I'm alright, see?"

She sniffles, clinging to his shirt.

He buries his face against her neck, blinking away tears. "We're all going to be alright, Gracie. I promise."

"We have plenty of room."

In the middle of brushing his teeth, Matt looks from the bathroom mirror and through the doorway to Alex sitting at the foot of their bed. Dressed in nothing but one of his t-shirts, her curls damp from her shower, she bites her lip and picks at a loose thread in their quilt. Leaning back over the sink, he spits, rinses his mouth out, and puts his toothbrush away.

Slowly, he ventures from the bathroom and into their bedroom. "Plenty of room for what?" He climbs onto their bed and pushes her backwards, kissing her. "Room for the copious amount of shagging we're going to be doing tonight?"

She shifts away from the tickle of his stubble. "Room for more children."

He stares at her. "You're not -"

"Of course not. You know I can't." She looks away. "I'm talking about adoption."

"Alex, love… You know we already have three, right?" When she still won't look at him, he sighs and rolls over, pulling her with him. She curls up against his chest, an arm wrapped around his waist. He kisses her temple. "Talk to me, Kingston."

She sighs. "I saw them today while I was out."

"Who?"

"The kids – a whole busload of them being herded into Harrods."

As a proper civilization has slowly begun to emerge from the ashes, it has become increasingly apparent that there are a lot of children without parents to look after them. The burnt out shell of Harrods has been converted into an orphanage to house them all but the ideal situation would be for those in a position to adopt to take them in as their own. Matt and Alex were finally able to file all the necessary paperwork to make the girls legally and officially theirs but clearly the burden of all those orphans remains with Alex.

She bites her lip. "God, they were so young, darling. I can't imagine how lost and scared they must be. They need a home – a real home. Not a bloody department store with cots."

He nods slowly, tracing his finger over the bump on the bridge of her nose. "You know we can't adopt them all, yeah?"

"I know." She raises her head, smiling hopefully. "Just a few more."

He sees the moment he looks into her eyes that this is something she needs to do. "Alright," he agrees, smiling when she breathes out a sigh of relief. "We'll go tomorrow. Have a look around."

"Actually…" Alex trails off, grinning.

He sighs. "You're already attached to some of them, aren't you?"

"Mick and Daniel," she gushes, and he watches her eyes light up. "I know you'll love them, darling. They're so small and -"

"Bloody impossible you are, bringing home strays." He nuzzles his face into her neck, tickling her with his scruff and listening to her laugh.

"You love it."

"I love you." He lifts his head, huffing. "When are we bringing them home then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Don't we need to fill out some paperwork first?"

She bites her lip. "I sort of already did."

Matt growls, rolling Alex beneath him and tickling her until they're both breathless.

He wakes up before the sun, a well-worn habit now. He still isn't used to waking up to the sight of it streaming in through their windows. He opens his eyes to red curls spilling across his pillow and grins widely, reaching out to wrap an arm around her small waist and tug her close. Alex shifts against him with a little sigh, lifting a hand to pat his cheek in her sleep.

He catches her wrist, pressing a kiss to her knuckles and the palm of her hand, moving on to her fingertips until she finally cracks open one eye and peers at him. "Hello," she purrs in that sleepy morning voice he can never quite manage to resist.

"Hello."

"S'early."

He nods, leaning in to kiss her softly. "Time to get up though." He strokes a hand up and down her bare back. "Get dressed. You know how Daniel likes to tiptoe in before breakfast."

She smiles, swatting his hand away from her bum. "Sneaky little bugger, isn't he?"

"Don't know who he could have gotten it from." He laughs, giving her bum one last squeeze before letting her slip out of bed and reach for her clothes. "Got any plans for the day?"

Pulling on her knickers and allowing him to enjoy the view, Alex shrugs. "I promised the munchkins we'd visit your work site for lunch. They want to see what we do all day when we leave them."

He laughs, climbing out of bed and reaching for his jeans. "Maybe I'll put them to work. Child labor for the good of humanity."

Fully dressed now, Alex sidles up to him before he can pull his t-shirt over his head, wrapping her arms around him and looking up at him with soft, adoring eyes. "I love you."

"For child labor?" He grins when she pinches his side, swooping down to press a quick kiss to her mouth. "I love you too."

Alex pulls him in for another kiss when they part, this one slower, a long and lingering press of mouths that makes him grip her hips and groan. "Don't do this to me, Kingston. They'll be up any second."

No sooner do the words leave his mouth than the door to their bedroom bursts open. Except it isn't only an army of six unruly children barreling into the room – they're all clinging to a tall, lumbering blond with a scruffy beard, shouting for Uncle Harry to please pick them up.

"Sorry." Harry grins, leering at them. "Are we interrupting something unfit for wee eyes?"

Matt groans, burying his face in Alex's neck but removing his hand from her bum. "What are you doing here, idiot?"

He points to Alex, bending to scoop Holly into his arms. "Your girl promised me pancakes."

Alex sighs and slips from his grasp, bending to scoop up Mick. "Good morning," she coos, cuddling the toddler to her and patiently enduring his fists tugging at her hair. "I'm afraid I did promise him breakfast."

"Alex," Matt whinges. "If you keep feeding the stray, he'll never leave."

Harry ignores him with dramatic flair, flopping onto the bed next to Olive and Grace, and still in his arms, Holly giggles. "Not just breakfast," he corrects. "Pancakes. Really fucking good pancakes."

"Harry! Language!"

"Sorry, really kickarse pancakes."

Alex kicks him.

Rolling his eyes, Matt picks up the other boy still tugging at his trouser leg. Redheaded with a pale, lightly freckled nose, Daniel is the quieter of their rowdy gang but just as naughty when left unattended. As such, Matt likes to keep a constant eye on him at all times. "Hello there. Get into any mischief yet this morning?"

Daniel ducks his head, smiling.

"Don't think I'm going to fall for that," he laughs. "I know that smile. That smile means you've been spending way too much time with Uncle Harry."

"Oi!" Harry lifts his head with a glare. "Don't be a prick – I'm babysitting your little brood of heathens tonight so you can get laid."

Alex tosses a pillow at his head for another language infraction, rolling her eyes when it prompts a pillow fight amongst Harry and the girls. Shrieks, laughter, and much cursing on Harry's part follows but Matt barely pays it any mind as he turns to Alex. Theirs is a full house, with a lot of noise and near constant chaos but after the quiet, dreary life of the bunker, he wouldn't have it any other way. This life is colorful and loud, full of love and never, ever dull.

"A night to ourselves, hmm?" He grins, letting Daniel scramble from his arms to join the fight on the bed. "You've been plotting, Kingston."

Still cuddling Mick to her chest, she offers him a secretive, lilting grin. "Always, darling."

Last night, he didn't wake screaming from a nightmare and right now, Alex isn't thinking about what she's lost. Tomorrow, he might be haunted by bad dreams and she might be off in her own head but it's enough for now that this moment is a good one. It's enough that their pile of good things is growing and their pile of bad things isn't.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Matt turns to the rambunctious, patchwork little family on the bed, currently in the middle of working together to smother Harry with pillows. Alex leans into his side, smiling widely.

Outside their window, a new day dawns.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	11. Chapter 11

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at  /works/967918.

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Doctor Who RPF

Relationship:

Alex Kingston/Matt Smith

Character:

Alex Kingston, Matt Smith

Series:

Part 1 of torturous electricity between both of us

Stats:

Published: 2013-09-15 Completed: 2013-09-18 Chapters: 2/2 Words:

27463

 **torturous electricity between both of us**

by mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday)

Summary

"As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

Notes

Based on the myth of Hades and Persephone, set in the Regency era. Story title from Landfill by Daughter and chapter title from Blinding by Florence and the Machine.

all around the world was waking, I never could go back

Just as she had done at home when living with her parents, Alex rises with the sun, even before the birds begin to sing, though she no longer has anywhere to go or any chores to be done. Instead, she slips from bed and into her dressing gown – the most expensive dressing gown she's ever owned in her life – and crosses the room in her bare feet, wincing as the cold floor chills her down to her very bones. Stifling a yawn, she curls up like a child on the window seat overlooking the moors, resting her forehead against the frosted glass wearily.

The view never changes. It is nothing but dead trees and grass and the damnable fog. The only thing that seems to have any life is the pomegranate tree outside her window, just beginning to bud with the coming spring. She sighs heavily, her breath clouding the glass as she blinks away tears. She misses home, with its open fields of green and the grove of trees she always liked to linger in, hiding from her mother, who always trying to introduce her to this farmer or that butcher, as if any of them would have wanted a woman like her – in her forties and unable to have children. Her mother had never been able to face the fact that her daughter was an old maid, well past her prime. No one wanted her.

Except him.

Alex scowls at the mere thought of the brute no doubt lurking in his study, planning new ways to make her miserable. She has no idea why he even keeps her except for perhaps the entertainment value. She rarely leaves her room and when she does, it's only to try getting away from him, which so far, hasn't worked. The last time she'd gotten lost on the moors and had to wait huddled beneath her cloak as night fell for one of his underlings to find her and bring her back.

A soft knock on the door draws her attention across the room and Alex hugs her knees, frowning. "Who's there?"

"Only Parker, Mistress."

She softens a little at the boy's voice outside the door. For some reason, her husband is rather fond of having teenagers and children – orphans – in his employ, and she can't deny she's grown rather fond of most of them, especially eleven year old Parker. She rests her chin on her knees. "What is it, Parker?"

"The Master wants to know if you'll be joining him for breakfast."

She scowls. "You can tell your master I'll be taking my breakfast in my room, as always."

Parker sighs and she hears the dull thud of his forehead resting against her bedroom door. "He won't like that, Mistress."

"Then he can come and tell me himself," she sniffs, and promptly turns her attention back to the window, waiting for the sound of Parker's retreating footsteps. Just as she'd expected, the sound of heavier approaching steps catch her attention only minutes later and unlike Parker, this visitor does not knock and hope to be invited in. He opens the locked door with his key and steps inside, slamming it behind him. Alex doesn't turn to look at him or flinch at the loud noise, keeping her stare resolutely toward the window, but she can see his reflection in the glass – the tall, gangly figure dressed all in black, the aura of darkness and all-consuming power very nearly pervading the air around him. She swallows hard; feeling a strange fluttering in her stomach as she purposefully ignores him.

"You can't stay in here forever."

"Watch me," she snaps, and suppresses a shudder at the low, silky voice that had drawn her in before she ever saw his face.

He sighs. "What have I done to make you hate me so? It was your choice to be here with me, remember?"

Alex scoffs bitterly. "Hardly a choice when there was but one option."

"Two options," he says, his voice cold and hard. "But your selflessness would only allow you to choose me. Hardly my fault, Alexandra." She says nothing, glaring out the window at the fog, and hears him step closer, his boots clicking softly against the wooden floorboards as he moves. "I have done all that you asked of me. Your parents are living in peace in the home you allowed them to keep -"

"Not that I'm permitted to see them."

"Perhaps I would let you leave if I knew you would return," he snaps, and she flinches at the harsh tone despite herself. "You ruined your chances of that when you tried to escape out the window on our wedding night, dear heart."

She whirls on him finally, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue but it dies the moment her eyes land on him. It's the first time she's looked at him in days and the sight of him always renders her a bit tongue-tied. She may loathe the man entirely but she cannot deny he is quite something to look at. He's a young man compared to her, easily in his late twenties and his countenance is strange but absolutely fascinating – eyes dark and deeply set in a youthful face, his cheekbones alarmingly sharp, his mouth red and twisted in an odd little smirk as he studies her in return, no doubt taking in her wild hair like a cloud around her face flushed in anger and the dressing gown that he'd had sent for her from London – the latest fashion. Swallowing hard, she averts her eyes from him and manages to locate a less biting reply in her rattled mind.

"And you ruined your chances of any civil relationship the moment you decided to throw me in here and lock the door because I wouldn't lie with a complete stranger."

"Your husband," he snarls. "Stranger or not I am your husband now, Alexandra and you will get used to it." Her eyes well with tears and he softens instantly, the harsh line of his mouth thinning into something she might consider contrite, were he not the devil incarnate. "And if you'll recall, I never said I wanted to consummate our marriage that night. I merely wanted you beside me in our bed. As if I would touch a woman scared to death of me."

She gapes at him, mind racing.

At her intense scrutiny, he schools his expression into something impossibly blank and she cannot read him for the life of her. "Now, I've had enough of you hiding away like a petulant child. You will have breakfast with me in the dining room and then we shall spend the day together. Is that understood?"

"Fine," she mutters bitterly, knowing that he is merely asking to be polite. She will spend the day with him if he has to lead her about on a leash like a dog.

"Good." He nods crisply, tugging at his black leather gloves with cool detachment. "I'll send someone in to help you dress."

"I can dress myself," she bites out.

"Yes dear," he says mockingly, and slams the door to her bed chambers shut behind him.

Oh, she hates him.

Breakfast is an awkward affair, to say the least. He's already seated when she arrives, in the middle of taking his tea, and when she enters the room in one of the gowns he'd bought for her, he rises from his chair until she takes her seat across the vastness of the imported mahogany dining table.

An attendant - a young girl of about sixteen – pours her tea for her and offers her a plate of delicacies to soothe her empty stomach. Alex accepts both graciously with a murmur of thanks, and feels the eyes of her husband on her from the other end of the table. She glances up with a barely restrained huff and guarded eyes to find him observing her over his plate, eyes hooded beneath the lock of hair eternally falling over his forehead.

"Confinement doesn't suit you," he says, and she prepares herself for a snippy remark about her complexion. "But that dress does."

She blinks at him in surprise. "Thank you, Lord Smith."

He flinches at the title like she'd struck him. "Hardly the thing for a wife to call her husband, is it?"

She pushes listlessly at her eggs. "As I told you the night you married me, I am your wife in name only. I married you to pay my parents' debt, not for love."

"All the same," he replies lowly. "I would prefer you called me by my name."

"Lucifer?"

"Only when you're cross, I'd imagine."

The lack of an angry response from him is maddening, which is probably why he hadn't risen to the bait. Alex scowls into her tea, hating that he can make her feel like an immature child. "And what shall I call you in the mythical instance when I am not cross with you?"

His eyes meet hers from the other end of the table and even from a distance, the feel of his gaze on her burns. "Matthew."

She sips at her tea and pretends to be unaffected, all the while wondering if she'll ever say his name without venom. "How disappointingly common."

"We weren't all blessed with a name like Alexandra," he replies in the same good humor he has been showing her throughout breakfast. It's nothing like the man she'd married two weeks ago – god, has it really been so short a time as that? It seems an eternity ago – when he'd been cold, distant and taking her away from her family.

"Since we're discussing names," she begins, "I'd prefer Alex."

He nods, watching her in amusement. "Very well. So long as you never, ever call me Matthew. I prefer Matt."

Prodding at a bread roll with her knife, she says, "Fine. I shall save Matthew for when I'm cross."

"What happened to Lucifer?"

"Special occasions," she says with false cheer. "Darling."

After breakfast, they take a turn about the grounds, Alex with a hooded cloak to protect her from the damp, and her arm hooked through Lord – Matt's. Calling him something so informal will take getting used to after weeks of referring to him out loud by his title and in her head as Satan himself. It's also strange being so close to him when all she does is try to keep her distance. She hasn't been quite so near him since their wedding, when they joined hands in front of a minister in a private ceremony, only her parents as witnesses. He'd been wearing his gloves then just as he is now, but she imagines his touch must be as cold as ice beneath the leather exterior.

The grounds around his manor are a wretched, unsightly place. It is damp, chilly, permeated with thick fog and without the slightest hint of pretty foliage like the grounds of her childhood home. Further out on the moors, the ground is more fertile and green, the trees budding with life, but for some reason, the Smith manor is an ugly, barren place with a miserable wind that rattles the glass panes of the house at all hours. Alex prefers to imagine this is a sign that Lord Smith – Matt – has cursed the very ground he walks on.

As they pass a grove of dead trees at the end of his property, Matt finally speaks. "I know this is not a marriage you entered into for love -"

"Neither did you," she counters, glancing at him with a frown.

He hesitates. "No, I didn't. I had hoped for companionship, if nothing else." Turning his head, he looks at her pointedly. "Which you've provided little of since your arrival."

Alex glances away again, biting her lip.

"Like it or not, we are married, Alex." He speaks softly, says her name like a light caress, and she fights the urge to shiver. "For better or worse, we're going to be spending our lives together. We should make an effort to get along and at least be civil." He clears his throat uncomfortably under her surprised stare, and it's the first time she's seen the ever-in-control Lord of the house uneasy. "I want you to be happy here."

Stunned, she can only stare at the side of his face for a long moment, letting him lead her through the long grass in the midst of the tree grove as she struggles to find the appropriate response. It's the most genuine thing he – or any other man, for that matter – has ever said to her and after weeks of antagonism and shouting, it's entirely unexpected. The idea of being happy here with him seems unimaginable but continuing to live out her life this way is equally undesirable and she finds herself nodding in agreement.

"Okay," she says finally, mind still reeling. "I'll play nice if you will."

He visibly relaxes at her acquiescence, his grip on her arm loosening. "We'll both have to strive to be on our best behavior then."

"And my parents?" She asks hesitantly, not wanting to ruin their brand new and tentative truce by asking for too much too quickly. "When can I see them?"

"In time." He leads her back in the direction of the manor and her heart sinks a little at the vague reply. As if sensing it, he glances at her and sighs. "When you've proven to me that you'll come back. Perhaps a few weeks without an escape attempt."

"Why do you care if I do?" She glares at the ground as they walk, the hem of her fine dress

covered in mud. "I'm only your payment."

"Yes," he bites out impatiently, grip on her arm tight once more and his expression dark. "You are mine. And I like my things returned to me."

Alex bristles at the implication that she is nothing but his possession and the rest of the walk back to the manor is spent in stony silence on both ends, their frail truce already brittle and cracking. She doesn't know why they're even trying. They are simply not well matched, and their life together will be nothing but constant rows punctuated by deliberate silences and the slamming of doors.

When they reach the house, an unfamiliar carriage is in the drive but it isn't unusual for Matt to have strange visitors at all hours. Alex has no idea what he does to earn all the money and power he has, but whatever it is, she knows it must be a shady business indeed. At the sight of the carriage, his expression tightens and he says quietly, "To your chambers, Alex. I have business to attend to."

She frowns, despite the giddiness that fills her at the thought of the sanctuary of her bedroom. "I thought we were spending the day together?"

"And we shall." He releases her with the brush of his hand down her arm, like a faint caress, and her eyes widen. "But first I must get rid of our guest."

"Why can't I wait for you in the parlor?"

"Because I said you can't."

"You can't just order me about because -"

"I think you'll find I can." He raises a thin brow at her. "Now go. I'll send Parker to fetch you when I'm through."

With a rather undignified huff of annoyance, Alex turns on her heel and stalks into the house, leaving Matt to stare after her, smirking with amusement.

Two days later, Alex wakes well past breakfast and realizes Matt did not send for her like he usually does. They've been eating all of their meals together lately and though there are times they barely speak at all, it has still been nice to have the company, however taciturn. Pushing away the pang of disappointment, she sits up slowly and runs a hand through her hair, frowning.

She knows exactly why her darling husband hadn't sent for her. He's obviously still stewing over their row last night, when he'd tried to order her out of the library so he could conduct a business meeting and she'd thrown a book at his head. Granted, she might have been overreacting a bit but it had been no excuse for him to drag her through the house with a biting grip on her wrist and hurl her into her bedchamber like the insufferable man he is. Perhaps if he asked her to do things politely rather than ordering her about like she's another one of his henchman than she would be more inclined to comply.

Alex snorts softly to her empty room. The man doesn't have a polite bone in his body.

The rumbling of her stomach reminds her that it is well past breakfast and she groans, pulling herself out of bed to dress, hoping when she gets to the kitchen there will still something left over from this morning to tide her over. The selection of gowns she has to choose from is absolutely outrageous – Matt had spared no expense when preparing for his bride and somehow he'd known her measurements without ever asking her. Everything fits beautifully, and he has impeccable, expensive taste. Not that she'll ever tell him so.

She runs her fingers over the elegant fabrics and hums thoughtfully for a moment before finally selecting a silk green gown and holding it up against her in the mirror. It matches her eyes rather well and she finds herself wondering if Matt had chosen it for especially that reason. Quickly chiding herself for the fanciful thought, Alex scowls and carefully lays her dress aside, walking quickly toward her bedroom door. She doubts he even knows what color her eyes are.

Opening her door quickly, she finds a young girl stationed outside like she'd known there would be and bites her lip anxiously at the child leaning against the wall and lazily braiding her long dark hair. "Hello."

The girl glances up and smiles shyly. "Hello, Mistress. Can I fetch you something? You missed breakfast."

"Actually," Alex fiddles with her shift uncertainly. "I was hoping you could help me with my corset. I thought I might go down to the kitchens myself, if that's alright."

The girl nods eagerly and follows Alex into her bedroom with a skip in her step, as if happy just to have something to do. At first, she had been a little wary about her husband's use of children as servants but none of them seem unhappy here and as orphans, she supposes they have nowhere else to go but a workhouse. Holding onto the bedpost as the girl behind her laces up her corset tightly, Alex sucks in a pained breath, remembering exactly why she never wore the damn things when she lived at home with her parents. "What's your name?" She asks softly, trying to distract herself from her increasing inability to breathe properly.

The girl pauses. "Iris, ma'am."

"Pretty name," Alex murmurs. "Was your master still angry with me this morning?"

Iris shrugs. "He took breakfast in his study, ma'am. Only Parker's seen him all morning." She ties off the lacing at the bottom and steps back with a proud smile. "There you are. Would you like help with your dress too?"

Smiling fondly, Alex shakes her head. "I've got it from here. Thank you, honey."

Blushing a little, Iris curtsies and exits the room hurriedly, no doubt returning to her post. Alex finishes dressing quickly, looking in the mirror with a mouthful of hairpins as she pulls her curls into a simple updo she can manage on her own. Feeling presentable enough for the kitchens at least, Alex slips from her room and down the corridor to the staircase, winding through the dark hallways of the first floor until she finds herself standing in a warm kitchen, filled with wonderful, mouth-watering scents.

Another girl stands over a boiling pot of something or other and Alex recognizes her as the same girl who has served her breakfast in the dining room every morning. She turns at the sound of Alex's approaching footsteps, tucking short, choppy blonde hair behind her ears and smiling brightly. "Good morning, Mistress."

"Morning," Alex greets, and a name comes to her instantly as she remembers Matt asking the girl for more tea just yesterday. "Hobbs, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl turns back to the pot boiling over and stirs, frowning into it. "Are you hungry? The master made sure I kept your breakfast warm until you woke."

"He did?" Alex glances in surprise to the plate of steaming food Hobbs presents her with.

"Of course he did." Hobbs laughs at her. "Doesn't want his wife eating cold food now, does he? I can take it into the dining room for you, ma'am."

Alex hesitates. "Actually, I'd prefer to eat in here, if I won't be in your way."

When she married Matt, she'd expected to be unhappy, but she hadn't expected to feel quite so lonely. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Alex was dining in the kitchen with a teenage servant girl.

Hobbs looks startled by the request but shrugs and ushers her toward a seat at the table in the middle of the room. "I'd be honored to have your company, ma'am." She purses her lips, pouring Alex a cup of tea. "Though, I'm sure the master would be as well."

Chewing a mouthful of eggs, Alex frowns at her.

Hobbs puts down her tea and waves a hand. "Never mind that. None of my business."

Swallowing, Alex gulps at her tea and winces when it burns her tongue. "No, what? Please."

Fiddling with her apron, Hobbs sighs. "It's just, he was in a right state last night, ma'am. You upset him something awful."

The tea settles oddly in her stomach and Alex resists the urge to glare at her plate. "He started it," she mumbles, sounding like a petulant child rather than the forty-seven year old mistress of the house. She sighs angrily through her nose and glances beseechingly up at the young girl watching her anxiously. "He drives me absolutely mad. If he could just be polite for one minute and treat me like a person, like his wife, rather than another of his bloody servants he can boss about -"

Hobbs lays a warm hand on her shoulder while Alex stares blankly down at her plate, her jaw set in anger. "He's trying, ma'am, truly he is. I know he's not an easy man to get along with, but you've got to try too. He's a good man, underneath. You have to understand he just isn't used to compromising. He's been alone all his life."

Alex bites her lip, pushing away her plate of food as her appetite disappears. "That doesn't mean he can treat me like a ruddy possession," she says, but she can already feel herself softening against the bully.

"I suppose not." Hobbs nudges her with a grin. "And I shall never forgot the look on his face when Dante's Inferno hit the side of his head."

Giggling into her hand, Alex blushes guiltily. "Was he alright?"

"No harm done, Mistress." Hobbs hesitates. "Well, perhaps to his pride."

She doesn't stay in the kitchen much longer, letting Hobbs ply her with a couple of freshly baked biscuits to finish her tea with before slipping away to roam the big old house on her own. She isn't quite sure where Matt's study is located but she figures she can use the time spent searching for it to figure out what on earth she's going to say to him. Last night had been largely her own fault and she would prefer to be an adult about the whole thing and make peace now rather than later. Besides, she's been enjoying the tentative concord between them. Matt is still absolutely insufferable but his company is better than staying in her chambers all day and his good temper is better than having him snarl at her. And he was right before – they need to learn to live together civilly.

She wanders the gloomy halls aimlessly, trailing her fingers along the walls and admiring the paintings and the expensive furniture probably imported from Paris, the Persian rugs and the heavy drapes. The house reminds her of something out of a Radcliffe novel, full of dark secrets, and any moment now, she expects to hear a rumble of thunder or see a flash of lightening through rain-lashed windows. The first floor is a labyrinth of never-ending hallways and doors, and just as Alex is beginning to doubt her ability to find her way back to the kitchen, let alone find Matt's study, she stumbles into a new corridor and sees Parker standing outside of a heavy wooden door, his arms crossed and a little cap tilted over his eyes.

She clears her throat pointedly and he stands to attention at once, yanking his cap from his face, fisting it in one hand while he reaches up with the other to smooth back his ruffled dark hair. He's quite an adorable little lad, though with his olive skin and big brown eyes, he looks like he belongs with a band of gypsies rather than in a pale Englishman's service. "Mistress," he says, sounding surprised. "I was just – uh -"

"Napping?" Alex laughs softly. "It's alright, dear. It's our little secret."

He beams at her.

Jerking her thumb in the direction of the door behind him, she asks, "Is this his study then?" When Parker nods, she smiles. "Can I go in?"

He hesitates. "I should ask him first, my lady." Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Parker continues, "He was in a right mood earlier on account of -"

Alex nods, wincing. "Yes, I know. Ask if he'll see me, would you?"

Without further ado, Parker turns and opens the door to Matt's study, poking his head in. "The mistress is here to see you, sir. Shall I let her in?"

Alex can't hear Matt's reply but Parker steps aside with a smile to let her pass by, so she ruffles his hair in thanks and steps inside, allowing him to shut the door behind her. Seated behind a large desk in the middle of the room, Matt doesn't even look up and she lingers by the door uncertainly, taking everything in for a moment. The room smells of pomegranates and cigar smoke and fresh bottles of ink. The light in here is soft and the fire roaring in the fireplace on the other side of the room lends an inviting feel to the small space. It isn't quite what she'd expected for the devil's lair.

"Come to observe me in my natural habitat?"

She glances up and finds Matt peering at her over a few leafs of paper, frowning. He's obviously still sore about last night and she decides to tread carefully, shrugging lightly. "I knew you weren't taking any visitors at the moment and I thought you might like some company. That is what I'm here for isn't it?"

He eyes her suspiciously. "I thought you were here for target practice."

Sighing, she smoothes a hand over her dress and steps forward, approaching his desk with the feeling of a girl in the head master's office. There are two plush leather chairs in front of his desk that he probably keeps there for his appointments with the various strangers who come to call but she doesn't want him looking at her like another person he can just give orders to and send away. She steps around the chairs and perches on his desk, looking down at him. He stares up at her in surprise and it's this close that she finally sees the cut on his temple, just peeking out from beneath his hair. Gasping softly, she reaches out before she can stop herself but when his gaze hardens, she freezes, her hand halted in mid-air. "Is that -" She swallows uneasily. "Is that from last night?"

Matt leans back in his chair, further away from her, and clenches his jaw.

She worries her lip between her teeth guiltily, bringing her hand back to her lap. "I'm sorry, Matt. I shouldn't have done that, no matter how furious you make me."

He smoothes a hand over his cravat and drops his gaze to the papers on his desk, and Alex is sure he's about to dismiss her from his study without any acknowledgement of her apology whatsoever, but finally, he asks softly, "And your wrist?"

Fleetingly thinking of his iron grip on her last night as he dragged her through the halls and into her room, Alex flexes her fingers and shrugs. "A little sore. It's fine."

"Good," he murmurs, clearing his throat, and she knows that's the last they'll speak of it. "Have you eaten?"

She nods, watching him stack his papers and tuck them away in a drawer where she can't see them. "Hobbs was very accommodating."

Matt rises from his seat and moves to the table in the corner, where a decanter of red liquor and a few glasses sit. Pouring himself a drink, he eyes her from across the room, still perched on his desk, and she fights the urge to fidget under his gaze. "I like the dress," he comments idly, and sips his drink. "It brings out your eyes. I knew it would."

Alex stares at him in surprise, feeling her face flush despite herself.

"However, the hair won't do at all."

She frowns, reaching up a hand to brush her fingers self-consciously over her updo. "What's wrong with it?"

"I can't see it." He strolls toward her slowly, something unmistakably predatory in his eyes that makes her stomach tighten. "I much prefer it down, my dear."

"It's improper for a woman my age." She waits for him to reach her before snaking out a hand and nicking his glass. He doesn't try to take it back, watching her with raised brows, so she lifts the

glass to her lips and drinks under his watchful stare, the taste of pomegranates bursting on her tongue. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

"Certainly not," he murmurs humorously, and takes back his drink before she can protest. Setting it aside, he steps in closer to her, close enough that she can feel the warmth of his body against her side and smell the scent of leather, pomegranates and damp earth – a dizzying, heady combination that renders her speechless. Slowly, as if waiting for her to strike out and push him away, he slips long, elegant fingers into her hair and begins plucking out the pins holding her hair in place one by one.

Alex sits frozen, barely daring to breathe as his every exhalation stirs the hair at the top of her head. When he slides out the last pin and tosses it onto his desk, he tangles his fingers in her hair and untwists it from its simple knot at the back of her head until her hair tumbles over her shoulders in wild blonde ringlets.

His hot mouth brushes her ear and she fights back a full-bodied shudder, letting him twine his hands in newly freed curls as he demands quietly, "Leave it down."

She nods hurriedly and when he finally steps back and drops into his seat behind his desk, glass of red liquor in hand, she is gasping for air, her lungs burning and her heart pounding. "Another demand then?" She asks hoarsely, silently scolding herself for being so affected by a simple touch

– and by him, no less.

He smiles blithely. "A helpful suggestion, if you like."

She rolls her eyes.

A soft knock on the door has them both turning around as Parker pokes his head inside and says, "Mr. Clement is here to see you, sir."

Matt stiffens, his almost playful mood dropping instantly. "Thank you, Parker. Please escort your mistress back to her rooms."

Alex glances back at him with a scowl. "I was going to have a look around, actually. I do live here, after all."

"After Clement leaves. Go." He sighs when she glares at him. "Please."

At the magic word she's been complaining he never uses, Alex softens instantly, nodding with reluctance. "Fine. But as soon as he's gone -"

"I'll show you around myself," he promises tersely. "Now, for god's sake, get out of my sight, you brandy-swilling hellion."

She stalks out of his study, past the man waiting outside and down the hall without a backward glance, letting Parker lead her back to her chambers and wondering if it would actually kill Matt to be polite for more than a second. She amuses herself on the walk back by imagining her darling husband keeling over in the middle of dinner – cause of death too many please's and thank you's.

But when she joins him in the dining room that night, she wears her hair down – only because she likes it better that way too.

Usually after having dinner with Matt, she retires to her chambers for the remainder of the evening but one night about a week after Mr. Clement's visit, she accompanies her husband to the library instead. It's been raining heavily all day, pouring from the skies with a vengeance and making the already damp grounds even worse. She's been stuck inside and the boredom of staring out the window and watching rain pool in the marshy ground is slowly killing her. Exploring the library more thoroughly sounds perfect and the extra time spent with Matt will please him as well.

He wanders into the cavernous room with her trailing behind him, his footsteps echoing as he makes his way toward the leather armchair in the corner next to a table with clustering of lit candles, a newspaper tucked under his arm. "Help yourself to whatever you like," he says, waving a hand flippantly around the room as he sinks into his chair, flips open his paper and proceeds to ignore her entirely.

Alex stands in the middle of the room, gazing around at the rows and rows of books, heavy shelves stretching all the way up to the ceiling. Never in her life has seen so many books in one place. There's a fireplace on one side of the room, a fire crackling invitingly in it. A thick, plush rug is laid out in front of it, a sofa and several armchairs situated around the rug, and Alex decides once she selects a book, she'll stretch out on the sofa to read until the fire lulls her to sleep.

Walking to the shelf nearest her, she skips her index finger lightly over the spines, tilting her head to read the titles. After a moment of skimming, her brow furrows and she glances up, turning to

Matt and finding him already watching her. The moment he notices her looking back, he drops his gaze back to his newspaper once more, frowning deeply. Alex smirks. "Why do you have an entire shelf of children's books and romances? A little late night reading?" She pauses, horrified by her next thought. "Do you have children?"

Startled, he raises his head to look at her with a scowl. "Yes, the ones in my employ. They may not be the brightest in the bunch but they do know how to read, Alex."

"Sorry," she says, feeling chastised. "I just didn't realize you kept books for them. That's… very kind of you."

Kind. Matt.

Her head feels fuzzy.

He shrugs carelessly. "Reading keeps them out of trouble and out of my hair."

Ah. The world has been restored to its rightful order.

She plucks a romance from the shelf and flips open the cover, instantly spotting the name 'Hobbs' scrawled in rather awful penmanship. She runs her fingers fondly over the etching and silently hopes the girl won't mind sharing – Alex could use a little romance in her life, and the fictional kind is just going to have to do. Carrying her treasure with her to the cozy sofa by the fire, she sits timidly on the edge of it, hugging her book to her chest and watching Matt across the room, glaring at his newspaper.

"Are you going to sit over there all night?"

He pauses, slowly lifting his eyes to hers. "Pardon?"

She sighs. "You said you married me because you wanted the company. I can't provide you with much companionship if you're all the way over there by your lonesome, can I?"

His mouth twitches and his eyes soften as he looks at her and Alex feels something in her chest tighten painfully. "I suppose not."

She offers a small smile and pats the sofa. "Come on then. It's warmer over here anyway."

He stands almost hesitantly and Alex watches as he walks toward her, noting not for the first time just how incredibly tall and long-limbed he is. When they're standing next to each other, he towers over her. In the beginning, his height was one of many menacing things about him but now she studies that lanky gait with – not quite fondness… he just doesn't seem as forbidding and devilish now as he had only a few weeks ago. He settles onto the other end of the sofa, a good distance away from her, and she frowns wonderingly at the vague feeling of disappointment. "What now?"

She blinks. "Now?"

He stretches out his long legs, the heels of his boots digging into the expensive rug under his feet as he crooks an eyebrow at her. "You were going to provide me with companionship."

Stifling an amused smile, she shakes her head. "Sometimes companionship is just sitting quietly and enjoying one another's nearness."

He gives a most ungentlemanly snort. "I could have done that from my chair over there."

Curling her legs up beneath her skirts, Alex leans back against the sofa cushions and drapes an arm over the back of it, leaning her head into her open palm. "So you don't have any children then?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you want children?"

He levels her with an exasperated look. "If I did I wouldn't have married you."

Recoiling as if he'd slapped her, Alex swallows painfully and drops her suddenly watery eyes back to her book. "Right," she whispers. "Sorry."

Matt sighs. "Stop that."

She keeps her eyes focused on the cover of her book resolutely, blinking hard. "Stop what?"

Making a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, he snaps, "Stop making me feel awful for stating the obvious."

"I'm not doing anything," she bites back in reply, raising her head to glare at him tearfully. "If you're feeling guilty it's only because of what you've said, not what I'm doing, you bully."

He gapes at her in outrage. "Bully?! I only meant I knew when I married you that you were -"

"What? Damaged?"

"Barren." He frowns. "And it didn't matter to me. My life is not meant for children – not unless they work for me. And I'm not a bully."

She ignores him, sniffling. "You like them, don't you?"

"Who?"

"The children, of course."

He hesitates, glancing away into the fire for a long moment, and she watches the way the light from the flames dances across his face, sharpening his cheekbones and making him look almost hollow. "I… have a soft spot for them. They're alone in this world." He frowns. "Like I am."

Her heart climbs into her throat and she resists the sudden urge to reach out and touch his arm, to comfort her husband and jailer somehow, nonsensical though it may be. "Like you were."

"Hmm?"

"You were alone," she corrects softly, and he turns his dark, intent gaze on her. "But you have me now."

His mouth twitches again and she realizes it's the closest thing to a smile she's ever seen from him. "Yes," he admits quietly, eyes raking over her face. "I suppose I do."

They go back to their respective readings after that, sitting in companionable silence with the fire crackling in the background. Alex loses herself in the tale about a dark, handsome and brooding hero who must rescue a girl from her terrible captors and before she knows it, the warmth of the fire, the words on the page and the knowledge of Matt's presence so near lulls her into a state of half-sleep, her eyes sliding shut as her head falls to rest on the back of the sofa.

She jolts awake suddenly when Matt tries to rouse her, his dark form bending over her with a gentle hand on her arm and his quiet voice entreating her to wake up. "Come along, my dear. Go to bed – it's quite late."

Nodding sleepily, Alex climbs to her feet a bit clumsily and Matt hovers near her anxiously, as if expecting her to need him for balance. She straightens, blinking bleary eyes at him, and offers him a mumbled, "Goodnight then."

He reaches out a hand, as if to touch her arm again, but then thinks better of it, curling his hand into a fist at his side. Nodding once, he clears his throat and averts his glower to the floor. "Yes. Goodnight, Alex."

Thankfully, even in her half-asleep state, she manages to find her way back to her chambers with relative ease. She might actually be getting used to this drafty old place. She undresses in the dark and topples into bed in her shift, sliding beneath the blankets that have already been turned down for her – probably by Iris. As soon as her head hits her pillow, she's asleep.

Alex dreams of a man on a dark horse riding to her rescue – she can't see his face but he holds the reins of his steed with black leather gloves that look strikingly familiar. In the morning, she remembers nothing.

Sitting at the window seat in her chambers and staring glumly out at the landscape has become a pastime of hers. Not a particularly entertaining pastime, but she lacks something substantial to do in this house. The servants do all the work she normally helped her mother with at home, Matt is

in his study most hours of the day doing whatever it is he does, and more often than not, she finds herself wandering the halls aimlessly or staring out her window, slowly going mad for lack of anything to occupy her.

"Are you telling me you'd like to scrub floors with Hobbs then?" Matt smirks at her over dinner one night when she complains about her boredom – again. "Because the answer is absolutely not."

"Why not?" She frowns at him. "Maybe not the floors but I could help with something! What about the cooking?"

"Hobbs does that too. You can't take the servants' jobs away from them, Alex." He swirls the wine in his cup around for a moment, then takes a slow sip. "They won't thank you for it. You'll be taking their wages."

"Why can't you just pay them the same as usual?"

"For doing less work?" He scoffs and looks at her like she's terribly naïve and precious, which infuriates her. "Hardly."

Alex breathes out quietly through her nose, jaw set as she glares at him from across the table. "I need to do something. Anything."

"We have servants so that you don't have to do anything," he says with a sigh. "Most women love that, you know."

She ignores him. "What about your job?"

He tenses. "What about it?"

"Well you're always in your study all day, I hardly ever see you." She brightens, growing more excited as an idea forms. "If you want to spend more time with me, perhaps I could help you with whatever you do in there. I could sort papers or answer letters or -" But Matt is already shaking his head and she huffs angrily. "Why not?"

"I don't need you in there." He gulps at his wine and sets the cup down with more force than necessary. "My business is no place for you."

"Well then where is my place?" She snaps. "Here at the table so you can look at me with your wine? In my chambers so you know your newest possession is safe and sound?"

"Precisely," he murmurs, still not looking at her.

Tightening her grip around her knife so she doesn't hurl it across the table at him, Alex says through gritted teeth and with infinite patience, "The other night, you said you life wasn't meant for children. What did you mean by that?"

"Exactly what it sounded like I meant, I imagine." Matt cuts his meat with an air of calm but she can see by the set of his shoulders that he's tense and listening.

"Did you mean your job then? Because it's too dangerous?" She rolls her eyes when he doesn't respond. "What do you do?"

"What I have to." He chews slowly, watching her with that burning gaze she feels through layers of silk and petticoats and whalebone. "To give my wife fine things and pay our servants and feed our horses."

Alex sighs heavily, leaning forward a bit and looking at him pleadingly, eyes wide and begging. "Shouldn't I know what my husband does for a living?"

"I tell you what you need to know," he answers calmly.

Throwing her knife down on her plate with a loud clatter, Alex snaps, "You've told me nothing!"

"Then I suppose that means you don't need to know anything," he barks in reply.

Alex crosses her arms over her chest and glowers at him in silence for the remainder of dinner.

She keeps up her silence for days, refusing to speak to him at meals or join him in the library after dinner. She keeps mostly to her chambers, staring out the window at the dreary sky, missing her mum and dad and home. It's just such an afternoon, nearly a week after her latest row with Matt, that he barges into her chambers dressed in a dark tailcoat, trousers, his usual black boots and a top hat. Before Alex can so much as grumble about him never knocking, he moves to her wardrobe and throws open the doors, swinging his walking stick as he goes.

"What are you doing?" She asks, frowning. "Tired of your own clothes?"

He scans the dresses for a moment, mumbling under his breath, before finally selecting a deep red one and plucking it from the wardrobe. "Put this on," he says, tossing it onto the bed. "I'm leaving in fifteen minutes and if you aren't ready, you're staying here with Benson."

"Benson?" She sputters. "The stable hand? What on earth for?"

"Because he's the only grown man I have in my employ who can look after you while I'm gone." Matt snaps his fingers impatiently. "But I'd prefer not leaving you at all. So get dressed."

Hurrying to the dress on her bed – not because he's being demanding but because it sounds like she might actually get to leave this godforsaken house and its godforsaken gloom for a while – Alex snatches it up and asks, "Where are we going?"

Walking toward the door, Matt leans his head out of the doorway and waves a hand. Moments later Iris comes scurrying in to help her with her corset. He doesn't grant Alex the privacy of leaving so she leaves on the shift she slept in, holding tightly to a bedpost while Iris laces her corset tightly.

Leaning against the doorframe, Matt watches her from beneath his fringe, eyes hooded. "I have business in town," he finally answers her.

She stares at him in surprise, barely even feeling the breath slowly being squeezed from her lungs as Iris works quickly behind her. "And you're letting me come with you?"

"I don't like the idea of leaving you here unsupervised," he explains loftily. "And I'm only collecting payment today, nothing exciting. You are to keep quiet and not ask questions. Understood?"

Alex nods quickly as Iris ties the laces of her corset and steps back. He could have asked her to stand by quietly while he threw a bag of kittens in the river and she would have done it gladly for the chance to go to a place with people. Iris helps her into her petticoats with Matt's eyes still on her but she's determined not to be affected by his gaze, letting Iris help her into her dress and do up the tiny buttons made out of shining gems in the back.

"There," she says, smoothing out the skirts with a grin. "Ready."

"You look ravishing, wife." He smirks at her and she flushes, inordinately pleased. "But your hair has to be put up before we go. Hurry up, you've got five minutes."

She frowns. "But I thought you wanted it down?" Iris is already behind her, hairpins in her mouth as she gathers Alex's curls in her hands and begins to twist her hair into some sort of elaborate updo. "You said -"

"Yes, I do want it down," he explains in that low, patient voice that never fails to make her stop whatever she's doing and listen. "For me. Not for anyone else."

The possessiveness of his words sends a strange heat to her belly she can't explain and Alex can only watch wordlessly as Matt turns on his heel and begins marching down the hall, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be waiting by the carriage."

When Iris has tucked the last pin into her curls, leaving just a few framing her face, Alex has two minutes to spare and she uses them to hitch up her skirts and hurry down the hall and the stairs, rushing into the foyer and out the door. Matt leans against the carriage door waiting for her, and the coachman and Parker are already seated on the box together.

He nods in approval at her hair as she approaches. "Much better. Actually, it's bloody awful but perfectly acceptable for the rest of society, I suppose."

She curtsies mockingly and he huffs, opening the carriage door for her. When she moves to step up, he startles her by wrapping his hand around hers to help her in, the leather of his glove smooth and supple against her palm. She settles into the carriage and watches him climb in after her, mouth dry and hand tingling.

Matt sits opposite her on the other side of the carriage, taking off his top hat and tossing it on the seat next to him along with his walking stick. The carriage takes off at once, rattling down the drive and toward the nearest town, which is still miles and miles away from Alex's parents, but

she has to ask. "Could I see my mum and dad? Just to let them know I'm alright?"

He shakes his head, as she'd known he would. "That's a journey of several days, Alex. Not today."

She bites her lip against any protest and merely nods, turning her head to look out the carriage window at the passing landscape.

"Perhaps when the whether improves and spring is here, we can take the journey together," he says, obviously trying to appease her. "How does that sound?"

"Lovely," she murmurs, because she knows he really is trying, in his own way. She hasn't the heart to tell him her mother would probably refuse to even let him in the house. "So whom are you collecting your payment from?"

Long fingers tapping restlessly against his knee, Matt glances out the carriage window, face tilted up to admire the canopy of tree branches above them. "You've seen him before. A man by the name of Clement."

She thinks back for a moment and shakes her head. "I recall the name, but not the man."

He tips his head back down and smirks at her, hazel eyes twinkling with unusual mirth. "You wouldn't. You were too busy making a dramatic exit to let me know how cross you were with me."

Refusing to laugh, Alex purses her lips and folds her arms over her chest, silently hating the way he can make her feel like a ridiculous child when he's the one so much younger than she is. Honestly, she can only imagine the scandal her marriage to such a young man caused in town – not that any of them would think to mention it to her face if she ever saw them. Matt's reputation as a dark and dangerous man would make sure of it. She sniffs and tips up her chin. "I'm sure I had a very good reason."

"Not at all." His smirk turns into a genuine grin and she can only stare in wonder at seeing it for the first time, white teeth gleaming against his thin red mouth. "I was being my usual charming self."

Shaking herself quickly and forcing herself to stop staring at his mouth, Alex snorts. "I'm sure."

Outside the carriage, she can hear the coachman and Parker singing a catchy little ditty to amuse themselves and she bobs her foot along for a moment, enjoying the sound of little Parker's laughter. "Why did he come with us?"

"We needed someone to drive us into town, dearest."

She sighs. "Parker, not the coachman."

"Parker likes town." Matt fiddles with a button on his tailcoat. "And he's a bit like my footman. He accompanies me everywhere."

"Poor thing," she murmurs, and smiles when Matt glares at her.

They make the rest of the journey into town in companionable silence, Matt staring out the window with a thoughtful look on his face and Alex too afraid to ruin the peaceful atmosphere between them by speaking again. When they arrive in the town square, Matt places his hat back on his head, snatches up his walking stick and steps from the carriage, holding out a hand to help her down. Fingers wrapped around his gloved ones, she steps out and into the bustle of a quaint little town with actual people. It's been weeks since she's been in the company of anyone but Matt and the servants and she beams at her surroundings happily, allowing Matt to tuck her arm through his and lead her along.

"It's just up here," he says, swinging his walking stick with his other hand. "I thought you might like to walk the rest of the way."

She nods, drinking in the sights and sounds of civilization. It's a whole world away from the wild moors and she revels in the change. She nods and smiles at people who pass by and though Matt isn't quite gentlemanly enough to amiably tip his hat, she doesn't mind, too pleased that he'd even allowed her to come at all to fuss about something so small. They pass dressmaker shops and candy stores overcrowded with children, a bookshop and a hat shop but her face only lights up when she sees the jeweler's.

With a gasp of delight, she tugs on Matt's arm and glances at him pleadingly. "Just a peek?" He lets her pull him to the store window with an indulgent smile, watching her peer inside. She and her mother used to stare into the jeweler's window in her own town, both of them unable to afford anything but staring in delight anyway at all the pretty trinkets. Spotting a pearl necklace with a diamond clasp, she points to it almost out of habit and says, "Oh, look at that one. It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

Peering into the window along with her, Matt murmurs, "It's passable. The wearer, however, would make it stunning."

Flushing horribly and hating herself for it, Alex bites her lip and glances away, tucking her arm almost shyly back into his. "Come on then. You have payments to collect and poor men with families to terrorize."

"I don't terrorize," he says, leading her away as they begin to stroll down the street once more. "Must you insist on speaking of me like some sort of brute?"

"You are a brute," she says through a smile at a woman passing by with her baby.

"No," he corrects patiently. "I'm a man who takes what's owed him using any means necessary."

"Yes, darling husband," she says dryly. "That's a brute."

Sighing as they stop in front of an ill-kept townhouse, Matt says nothing and tugs her up the steps with him, rapping loudly on the door with the end of his walking stick.

"Why do you carry that thing?" She asks, slipping her arm from his and smoothing a hand over her dress. "You don't have a limp and you don't seem the type to be overly ostentatious."

Matt grimaces. "A necessary evil, I'm afraid."

Before she can ask him what he means, the door swings open and Clement stands there in muddy breeches and a nightshirt. He's a burly man but quite short in stature, with dark beady eyes and too little hair on his balding head. He pales at the mere sight of Matt on his doorstep.

Matt swings his walking stick over his shoulder and offers Clement a cheerful smile that under the surface is anything but. It's strange, how striking the difference is between the cold smile he has on now and the crooked grin he'd bestowed her with in the carriage. "Hello, my dear Clement. Guess what day it is?"

Clement swallows, his adam's apple bobbing. "Look, I don't have it yet. I just need another week,

maybe two and then -"

Feigned smile dropping instantly, Matt tuts disapprovingly and says, "I'm afraid that won't do at all, poor fellow. We had a deal."

Clement trembles a bit.

Stepping in closer, Matt gazes into the shorter man's eyes and lowers his voice to the silky tone that seems to entrance whoever might be listening. "I've been very fair, wouldn't you say, dear Clement? You came to me for a loan and I gave it to you when no one else would. You appreciated that very much, didn't you, Clement?" He waits patiently for Clement to nod, wide-eyed. "And all I asked in return was that you pay me back with a bit of interest the very next month. That isn't such an extraordinary request, is it? Don't you think I've been quite reasonable, Clement?"

With a gulp, Clement nods and when Matt steps back out of his personal space, he slumps and draws in a relieved lungful of air. "I'm sorry, Lord Smith. I just don't have your money yet," he babbles nervously. "If I could just have a bit more time-"

"I'm afraid that isn't possible." Matt purses his lips, clearly displeased. "If you don't have the money, I'll have to exact another form of payment. Your pocket watch, for instance. The one you were so terribly proud of when you showed it to me in my study last month." Clement's eyes widen and Matt tilts his head, his gaze so frightfully manic that Alex takes a step back and nearly trips down the stairs. "You remember, the one with the diamond studded face worth more than a year of your wages?"

"You can't do that!" Clement sputters. "That watch belonged to my great grandfather!"

"I think you'll find I can do as I please," Matt says glibly, unfazed.

Timid, nervous Clement turns furious and red-faced at once, those beady eyes of his glowing with startling ferocity. Without thinking, Alex edges closer to Matt's side because for once, he seems like the lesser of two evils. His hand drops instantly to the small of her back, a soothing touch meant to calm her.

"Enough now, Clement. You're frightening my wife."

Beady eyes turn on her immediately and there is something almost calculating in that gaze that unnerves Alex but she refuses to let the man know it, lifting her chin and staring back unblinkingly. "Wife, hmm? You can make him see how unreasonable he's being, can't you?" He asks her desperately. "It was my -"

Before Clement can utter another word to her, Matt takes the end of his walking stick and jams it into his ribs, effectively cutting him off as the man doubles over and gasps for air, wheezing. "You do not address her," Matt snarls. "You do not look at her, you do not so much as breathe in her direction, do you understand me, you miserable little vermin?"

Clement coughs.

Matt raises his walking stick and Alex finally snaps out of her startled stupor in just enough time to grasp his arm tightly and hiss, "Stop it, Matthew."

He blinks at her in surprise, glances down at her white-knuckled grip on his bicep, and slowly lowers his walking stick. Instead, he pushes the stick into Alex's hand and steps closer to Clement. He fists his shirt in his hand and shoves the shorter man up against the door of his home, keeping him in place as he uses his other hand to fish through his pockets. Alex watches nervously, clutching Matt's walking stick to her chest and wondering silently exactly what sort of man she'd entered a sacred union with until finally, Matt slips his hand out of Clement's pocket with a triumphant hum, holding aloft a gold pocket watch.

Tucking his find into his tailcoat pocket, Matt steps back, takes his stick back from her and offers a wink she assumes is supposed to calm her nerves. "I think that will do nicely. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Clement."

Clement watches in wounded, resentful silence as Matt turns on his heel and offers Alex his arm. She takes it without protest, still stunned, and allows him to lead her down the staircase and away from Clement's townhouse. When they're far enough away, he says, "I'm sorry you had to see that. I wasn't expecting him be quite so uncooperative."

Feeling his gloved fingers stroking at the inside of her elbow soothingly, Alex shakes her head. "Was that really necessary? Couldn't you have given him an extra week?"

"I don't extend my deadlines," he says decisively, and is apparently in a good enough mood to tip his hat at passersby now, with his new bounty in his pocket. "I'm quite firm about it but everyone I deal with knows this up front."

She frowns. "But that doesn't make any sense. You gave my parents an extra month to try and get their payment for you. Why not him?"

Matt sighs, looking aggrieved at having to explain himself. "My leniency with your parents had very little to do with kindness toward them, if you must know."

Alex gapes at him in comprehension, and if it weren't for the look in Matt's eyes as he gazes down at her, she would have been sure she was hearing things. He favored her long before she was ever his wife, it seems. And she'd barely even known his name until the moment he came to their home and declared her parents were going to lose the house and land or their daughter.

Before she can make sense of what to do with this new information, Matt stops in the middle of the street and waves his walking stick, and she glances up to see Parker striding toward them, munching on sweets. His pockets are bulging a bit and she imagines there must be more candy squirreled away there for later. "Parker, my good man." Matt ruffles the boy's hair and eyes him almost anxiously. "Everything alright?"

Parker nods proudly. "Well, sir."

"Good." Matt squeezes his shoulder. "Escort your mistress back to the carriage then."

Alex relinquishes his arm and steps up to Parker, who offers her a grubby hand that she takes willingly. "What about you?"

"I have another errand," he says, already walking away. "I'll be along in a moment."

With a sigh, she allows Parker to lead her along back to the waiting carriage. "Did you have fun, dear? Matt told me how much you like town."

Parker nods, grinning as he offers her a sweet from his little bag. "Have one, ma'am?"

With a fond smile, Alex politely declines and steps up into the carriage, waiting for Matt to return. True to his word, he doesn't take long at all, hopping into the carriage only moments later with a velvet box in hand. He settles into the seat across from her, depositing his top hat and walking stick next to him.

"What were you doing?" She asks warily as the carriage starts to move.

He surprises her with another, smaller but equally genuine smile, and tosses the velvet box at her. It lands in her lap and she casts him a suspicious glance before picking it up. "It's not going to bite," he says with a snort. "Open the bloody thing."

The box creaks as she opens it and she drops her eyes from Matt to look down into it, gasping quietly at the pearl necklace nestled inside, the diamond clasp glittering even in the relative darkness of the carriage. "Matt," she breathes quietly, glancing up with wet eyes. "You didn't have to – I didn't expect you to buy this for me just because I liked it. You -"

"I know you didn't expect it," he says with a soft laugh. "That is precisely what made buying it so delightful, pet." He hesitates, watching her touch her fingertips reverently to one lone pearl. "It's also an apology… for today. And I hope you can understand now, that I don't tell you about my work not to drive you mad, but for your own safety. People can get quite angry with me at times, and I don't want you associated with what I do for your protection. Do you understand?"

She nods, feeling a strange sort of warmth fill her chest as he looks at her earnestly. "Thank you," she says softly. "For trying to explain it to me. And for this." She looks down at the necklace again with a smile. "It's lovely."

He watches her with mild amusement, his eyes soft. "Aren't you going to put it on?"

"Oh, yes, of course." She lifts the necklace from its box and wraps it around her neck, fiddling with the clasp. "I can't quite -"

"Turn around," Matt orders quietly, and when she does, she feels his bare fingers against her own, taking the clasp from her. She suppresses a quiet gasp, startled by the warmth of his touch. For some reason, she hadn't expected him to be a warm-blooded male like all the others. She shuts her eyes at the light touch of his fingers at the nape of her neck and when the clasp finally snaps into place, she lifts a hand to the hollow of her throat to feel the pearls warming against her skin. She can't be sure but before Matt slips away back to his side of the carriage, she could swear she feels the faintest press of lips against the back of her neck but then he's back in his own seat and looking out the window. Frowning, Alex decides she must have been imagining things.

"I am not a child, you know. I don't need a bloody escort everywhere I go!"

Calmly watching her from his desk as Alex stands in the middle of his study, red-faced and furious, Matt steeples his fingers. "You may not look like a child, but you're currently doing a rather marvelous impression of one."

Alex smothers the urge to stomp her foot and prove his point. "I am a grown woman," she seethes. "And if I want to walk about the grounds of my own home without being followed by a minder then I should damn well be able to."

"Such language from a lady," he tuts, and she gets the distinct feeling he enjoys seeing her so riled.

"Such ill manners from a gentleman," she snips, and he grins jovially in reply. "Why can't I go out on my own? I haven't tried to run away in weeks!"

"Yes, but the last time you went out on your own, you got lost, remember?" He arches an eyebrow at her. "I'm not sending Benson out to look for you again because you're silly enough to wander too far. Now you can go with Parker or Iris or bloody hell, takes Hobbs for all I care. Just take someone so I know you'll be returned to me safely. Or you can't go at all."

"'Returned to you safely?'" She gapes at him in outrage. "I am not a bloody possession to be loaned out to your servants!"

Matt taps his quill against his chin, entirely unmoved. "Your parents, Alexandra, owed me a debt, and you agreed to be my payment, which in turn, makes you mine." He smirks at the tight line of her mouth. "And I like to keep the things that belong to me safe, whether you like it or not."

With a growl of fury, Alex grabs the nearest object to her, which happens to be a paperweight, and tosses it at her husband. She's too angry to aim properly and she misses, but as it falls to the floor with a thud behind Matt's head, he jumps to his feet with a thunderous look on his face that usually means trouble.

"I hate you," she snaps, and glares at him one last time before turning swiftly on her heel. She storms out, slamming the door behind her as she goes, and as she stalks down the corridor away from him, she fully expects his study door to open and to hear his footsteps behind her. Surely he won't let her get away with throwing a bloody paperweight at him like that.

However, by the time she reaches the staircase and he still hasn't come after her, she allows herself a quiet exhale of relief before she climbs the stairs to her chambers. She slams that door too, just for good measure, and proceeds to pace the length of her room, hands balled into fists as she tries to calm her breathing and tell herself that she shouldn't let that horrible man make her so agitated. It's only that she has spent her whole life being her own person with no one to answer to and while she hated that the reason for that was because no one wanted a woman who couldn't produce an heir, she grew to love her freedom. Having it snatched away by Matt is suffocating.

It's only moments after she finally collapses onto her bed to stare tearfully up at the ceiling that she hears the sharp click of Matt's boots on the floor outside her room. She sighs, mentally preparing herself for another battle, and listens to him open the door. It shuts behind him but she doesn't hear his footsteps approaching and he doesn't speak, so she huffs and lifts her head to glower at him. "What do you want?"

Standing by her bedroom door and watching her warily, he says, "I'm not apologizing."

"Fine." She drops her head and shuts her eyes. "I'm not apologizing either."

"However," he begins, sounding almost hesitant. "I'm going for a ride this afternoon, since the weather is tolerable. I wondered if you might join me."

Intrigued despite herself, she sits up with a frown. "Can I have my own horse?"

Matt snorts. "You just threw a paperweight at my head and shouted that you hated me. Of course you can't."

Her frown deepens but she nods once. "Alright."

He blinks at her in surprise. "Right. Good. You can't go like that, of course." He gestures to her gown with a flippant hand. "I'm sure I can find a pair of trousers that will fit you."

Her breath catches. "Trousers? Really?"

His mouth twitches at the excitement in her voice and he nods. "Of course. No wife of mine is riding side saddle."

The urge to run across the room and hug him is overpowering but Alex suppresses it, smiling brightly as he excuses himself to find her something to wear. He sends Iris back in with a pair of his riding trousers, an undershirt and riding boots, and Alex beams with delight at the sight of it all. She dresses quickly, tucking the billowing shirt into the trousers that are too long in the legs, but that her curves fill out nicely everywhere else. She slips into the riding boots, leaves her hair down around her shoulders the way she prefers it – and all right, Matt too – and very nearly skips down the stairs and out of the house to join him in the stables.

Matt is petting the muzzle of a huge black horse already saddled up and ready for their ride, holding the reins in his hand and letting the horse nuzzle into his palm. The moment he sees her, his eyes widen and he stops petting the horse to give her his full attention. He can't seem to take his eyes off her and by the time she reaches his side, she's flushed pink, reaching up to pet the horse to avoid his gaze. His hand settles on the small of her back and she hears him breathe out quietly, as if to steady himself. "Such a shame," he murmurs woefully.

She glances over her shoulder at him. "What is?"

"That you have to hide all of that under those damnable skirts all the time." He raises his brows at her and she giggles, nudging him away from her.

"Stop it," she says, feeling her face heat up once more. "Honestly, you're incorrigible."

He snorts, stepping away from her and climbing gracefully into the saddle. "You haven't seen incorrigible, pet." He holds out a hand to her, eyes burning. "I've made an effort to be quite gentlemanly with you."

She swallows at the implication, wondering even as she takes his hand and allows him to help her swing into the saddle behind him what it would be like if he didn't make an effort. He already makes it quite difficult to concentrate at times with that dark gaze on her and those long fingers, the power and allure in that low, silky voice.

"You might want to hold on," he says over his shoulder.

Slowly, she wraps her arms loosely around his waist from behind.

He laughs softly. "Tighter than that or you're going to fall off."

She tightens her arms around him and buries her face in his back, suddenly enveloped in the unique scent of him, that smell of wet earth and leather and his favorite blood red liquor. She inhales again greedily before she can stop herself and she doesn't know what it is about this man that can all at once drive her mad and make her dizzy with some unnamed feeling that sets her stomach churning but she's grown almost fond of him and his brutish ways.

He doesn't start the horse off at a trot or even a canter, and Alex yelps in surprise into his shoulder as the great beast beneath them takes off at a gallop instantly, Matt spurring him on with the press of his heels into the horse's sides. As they race down the drive and out into the wild moors, Alex lifts her head from his back and lets the damp air hit her in the face, blowing her hair back from her shoulders. All the other times she has been permitted to ride a horse at home, she had to wear a dress and ride side saddle, trotting along at a dull pace in order to be a proper lady but this is something else entirely. This is – exhilarating. It feels like a small slice of freedom amidst her life of imprisonment and she laughs in delight.

"Having fun then?" He asks over the pounding of the horse's hooves.

Grinning, she presses her cheek into his warm shoulder and shouts, "Faster!"

After their ride through the moors, Matt introduces her properly to the stable hand, and allows her to go out to the stables whenever Benson is present to help him look after the horses. When he tells her she can keep his pair of trousers and undershirt to work in, Alex cannot hold herself back any longer – she leaps into his arms and throws hers around his neck, hugging him tightly and murmuring her thanks into his throat. Matt stands stunned for only a moment before his arms wrap around her in turn, his face pressed into her hair as he breathes, "You're welcome."

Things are almost better after that. With something to occupy her during the day while Matt is busy, Alex's mood improves considerably. She feels accomplished at the end of each day, having Iris draw her a bath as she comes in every evening sweaty and smelling of horse. It's magnificent. And the happier she is, the happier Matt seems to be. They talk more at dinner, teasing each other lightly and retiring to the library together after. They stroll the grounds around the manor together more often and when he isn't trying to boss her about, Matt can be quite charming and gentle. She grows fonder of him every day.

That isn't to say they don't argue, of course. She still rails against his insistence that she have some sort of escort whenever she leaves the house, because it means she never has a moment alone unless she's in her chambers, but Matt is adamant about it and won't even let her go riding unless he or Benson accompanies her. It's easy to get lost on the moors, he says, and he doesn't like her out on her own for some other reasons she can't begin to fathom. Matt is awfully paranoid for one so young.

It's a typical gloomy morning on the moors when Matt goes into town on horseback, insisting she stay because he won't be gone more than two hours. Alex promises not to wander off and actually means it, spending her morning with Benson, who isn't much of a conversation partner, but who lets her brush out the horses manes and doesn't scold her when she braids them too for her own amusement.

She carries out apples from the manor, slipping them from her pockets to feed to them when Benson isn't looking, laughing when they nuzzle her in thanks. Her favorite horse is a black steed just like all the others, but there's something different about this one. He's quite wild, absolutely huge and formidable but as she quickly found out, he was also the gentlest creature she's ever encountered. Cerberus won't let anyone near him but Matt and herself, and Alex would refuse to admit it if anyone would ask, but she always gives him extra sugar cubes and brushes him twice as long as any of the other horses.

It's about two and a half hours after Matt had left and she's in the middle of plying Cerberus with apples to get him to stand still for the intricate braid she's tying in his mane when she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance. She glances up with a smile, expecting to see Matt galloping into the stables with a smirk, a triumphant return from collecting another payment and beating another poor soul with his walking stick. However, as his horse trots into view, she sees the slumped form in the saddle and the smile drops from her face instantly.

"Matt?" She calls out, stepping away from Cerberus, her heart pounding.

His horse slows to a stop in front of her, neighing softly, and Alex hears a pained groan from her husband. He lifts his head and she barely has time to notice how pale he is before he reaches out a hand, which she takes without hesitation. Gripping her hand tightly, he slides limply from his horse with a muttered, pained string of profanity, right into her arms.

Panicking, Alex calls out for Benson and tries to hold Matt up on her own. "Matt, darling, what happened? Are you alright?"

He nods weakly as Benson reaches them. "Fine. Sore."

She looks at Benson. "Help me get him into the house."

With Benson's assistance, they manage to carry Matt between them through the stables and up to the manor, into the house and up the stairs to Matt's chambers, all the while with him grumbling that he's fine and they're being ridiculous. When he's reclining on the bed, clutching his ribs and

gritting his teeth, Alex sends Benson away and shuts the door behind him, climbing onto the bed next to Matt and hurriedly undoing the buttons of his riding coat.

"Much as I've been waiting for this," he says weakly. "I don't think I can right now, pet."

She blushes and glares at him. "I need to see what you've done to yourself, you idiot."

He sighs, winces, and leans back to let her work. Quickly unbuttoning his jacket, she pushes it aside and yanks his shirt from his trousers, refusing to think about anything at all except that Matt is hurt and she needs to know how badly. She pushes his shirt up around his chest and takes in the sight of smooth, pale skin. "Where does it hurt?" She asks softly, and glances up to find him watching her. "Just your ribs?"

He nods slowly.

She brushes her fingertips lightly over his skin and he shudders beneath her. Yanking her hand back, she bites her lip. "I'm sorry, did that hurt?"

Jaw clenched, Matt shakes his head. "No, pet. It's-" He breathes out steadily through his nose. "It's fine." She tries again, feeling along his ribs for any fractures and watching his face closely for any sign of pain. He seems perfectly fine until she presses a little harder, and he winces, batting her hand away with a muttered, "Buggering hell. Hurts like a sodding bastard."

Oddly amused by the colorful language, Alex smoothes her fingers over his skin once more, gently this time, and says, "I think your ribs are just bruised. What on earth happened?"

Laying back and letting her pull his shirt back over his stomach, Matt sighs. "Had an encounter with a man who wasn't pleased that his deadline was up. Sometimes I'm met with a little more resistance than usual." He coughs, then curses loudly again when it aggravates his ribs.

"Unfortunately for him, he underestimated me. I got my payment anyway and he, the unlucky fellow, is dealing with much worse than bruised ribs."

At his proud smirk, she rolls her eyes. "It isn't funny, Matt. You could have been seriously hurt. One day someone might be angry enough to kill you, for heaven's sake."

"Comes with the job, dearest," he mumbles, adjusting himself stiffly into a more comfortable position. "I can take care of myself, you know."

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Well I'm coming with you next time."

He guffaws, then grimaces at the pain it causes him. "Like bloody hell you will. What are you going to do? Stamp your foot until they leave me alone?"

"I don't stamp my foot," she grumbles. "And perhaps if I was there, they would think twice before harming you. Surely they wouldn't resort to violence in front of a lady."

"God, how can you be so much older than me and still so naïve, pet?" He sighs, shutting his eyes. "The types of men I deal with would harm you just to get to me and I won't have that sort of weakness."

She bristles, frowning down at the deep, rich red blanket on his bed and the equally lavish sheets. It occurs to her for the first time that she's in his bedchamber and sitting on his bed, and she feels her heart leap into her throat. "Fine," she says, and if her voice comes out a little higher than usual, Matt doesn't mention it. "If you refuse to let me come with you then you'll have to take someone else. A bit of muscle, perhaps. Either way, I won't have you going out on your own anymore."

Matt opens his eyes slowly and smirks at her. "You're being frightfully domineering, dearest. I quite like it."

She bites back a smile, shaking her head.

"Were you worried about me then?"

Straightening her shoulders, she traces her fingers over his patterned blanket to avoid his gaze and says stiffly, "Yes, if you must know. I do, on occasion, worry about you." She risks a glance at Matt and finds him staring at her in surprise. "What? Is that so difficult to believe?"

He ignores her, a long finger reaching out to prod the knee of her trousers. "You called me darling. And meant it."

Averting her eyes again with a flush, Alex clears her throat uncomfortably, remembering her panic at seeing him slumped over on his horse, unutterably terrified that something awful had happened

to him. "As I said, I was worried." She busies herself with sliding from his bed and tugging his blanket over him. "Now get some rest."

"Stay with me until I'm asleep," he says, and then, as if realizing he'd given an order, adds a soft, "Please?"

With a small nod and a flutter in her chest, Alex settles back on his bed and watches over him until sleep claims him. And if she lingers after for a while just to gaze at him, Matt is too lost in dreams to point it out.

my fingers in creases of distant dark places

Chapter Summary

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed.

Chapter Notes

Chapter title from Set Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol.

Despite her insistence that he needs to rest, Matt is determined to get out of bed and back to work the following evening, and after they have dinner together, he stands from the dining room table, trails a strangely tender hand down the side of her face, and disappears into his study. Alex watches him go with a puzzled smile, finishes her wine, and decides that she'll spend the rest of her evening in the library without him.

The moment she rounds the corner and starts up the staircase, she finds Parker on the landing, sifting through a small sack, holding up a diamond necklace to the light. "Parker?" He glances up with a start. "Is that mine?"

His brown eyes widen in panic. "Oh no, Mistress. I would never, I promise. I found this one, I did!"

Alex climbs the stairs to join him on the landing. "You found it?"

He nods. "In town, Missus."

"Where on earth did you find a diamond necklace in town, Parker?" She holds out a hand, her expression stern, and he places his small sack into her palm. "The necklace too."

He sighs and hands it over.

Glancing into the bag and spotting a wallet, a watch on a chain, a pair of gold cufflinks and an emerald brooch, Alex gasps. "Oh my god, Parker, did you steal all of this?"

He looks at his shoes guiltily, biting his lip.

Thinking back to that trip into town she'd taken with Matt, she remembers seeing Parker with stuffed pockets, thinking that he'd loaded them down with sweets for the journey back. Matt had been right – she has been so utterly naïve. Breathing out quietly, Alex rubs her fingers at her temple and says, "Run along, Parker. We'll discuss this later, alright?"

He scurries away without further encouragement, disappearing upstairs, and Alex rises to her feet slowly, her jaw set as she walks back down the stairs and toward Matt's study. With every step, she feels her fury grow. How dare he. Using innocent, orphaned children with no place else to go as his little thieves to get what he wants. She feels ill at the very thought, hating herself for believing all his talk about giving them somewhere to stay because they were alone like he'd been. He'd probably been laughing on the inside at her stupidity for falling for it.

She walks into his study without knocking, slamming the door behind her, and finds Matt standing in the corner, pouring himself a glass of brandy, floppy hair falling into his eyes. He glances up at her entrance, takes one look at her face and sighs. "What have I done now?"

She holds the sack of trinkets up between her thumb and forefinger. "I've discovered your little thief."

"You mean Parker?" He sips his drink and blinks at her calmly.

Gaping at him, she says, "You're not even going to try to deny it?"

"Why should I? I know all about the little scoundrel's sticky fingers." He waves the decanter at her. "You look like you could use a drink, dearest."

She glares at him, clenching the bag in her fist. "Am I to understand that you feel absolutely no remorse for taking in orphans and making them steal for your own bloody gain?"

Matt gapes at her, setting the bottle down with a thud. "I what?"

"I can't believe I fell for it!" She laughs hollowly, shaking her head. "I actually thought you were being honest with me, you know? I thought you were opening up and trying to tell me something about yourself."

"What are you going on about, you ridiculous loon?" He asks, scowling at her.

"You and your bloody silver tongue, you bloody minion of Satan," she shouts, and tosses Parker's bag at him, only enraged further when she misses. "I thought you actually had a heart, taking in those children, but of course it was all about you and your sodding money -"

Before she can utter another word, Matt stalks across the room with a livid expression on his face and Alex doesn't even have the chance to think about fleeing before he has her by the hips, his fingers digging into her flesh through layers of silk and petticoats as he shoves her roughly against the door behind her. "Shut up," he snarls, and then he bends his head and kisses her.

Alex lets out a surprised squeak before the shock of his mouth against hers overtakes all else and her eyes flutter shut despite herself. She melts against the door, pressing her lips back against his and hearing him groan softly in reply. His tongue brushes against the seam of her lips and when she whimpers, he plunges inside to taste her, his hands moving from her hips to frame her face.

His hot tongue twines with her own and she reaches up without even thinking, fisting his shirt in her hands as she tastes pomegranates and warmth and Matt. He devours her, pressing her hard against the door as he plunders her mouth as if it is his for the taking. Heat licks at her insides like the flames of a roaring fire and Alex moans softly, her body flush against his and her chest heaving as she allows him to consume her.

When he finally pulls away, her mouth feels swollen and her lungs burn from lack of air. Her eyes flutter open and she looks up into the dark gaze of her husband, feeling dizzy. Sure that she's listening now; he rasps out, "Parker does not steal for me. Parker steals because he's a ruddy thief. He and the other children share whatever he brings home and I don't interfere." He traces his hand over her face, those long fingers caressing her skin tenderly. "Whatever you might think, I do care about those kids. Do you know what workhouses are like? I'm keeping them safe, giving them a place to sleep and freedom to do as they wish."

Struggling to think through a mind clouded with nothing but the taste of his mouth on hers, Alex manages, "You shouldn't let them steal, darling. It's wrong -"

"Shh," he whispers, and she obeys instantly, her eyes dropping to his mouth. When he bends his head again, she raises her own to meet his lips eagerly, humming softly the moment his mouth crushes her own.

This time, his hands slide into her curls and he fists them tightly as she slides her own arms around his neck, keeping him close to her. He brushes his mouth over her jaw, down her neck, nips at her collarbone. Alex pants against him, her nails digging into his shoulders. His teeth scrape against her skin, leaving a trail of fire wherever he touches. The heavy weight of him, of a man, against her is new and thrilling, but knowing that it's him – this man she had hated for so long and has grown to feel so much for in so short a time – it's even better.

"So gorgeous when you're angry with me, Alex," he breathes, and she whimpers when one of his hands leaves her hair to yank up her skirt and petticoats. "The fire in your eyes, the way your chest heaves and your cheeks flush, oh I love to watch you. Magnificent."

Panting, she whispers, "please", though she isn't quite sure what she's begging for. She only knows that she wants more – more of his hands on her, more of that velvet voice in her ear, just more of him. "Please, Matt."

He brushes his lips over hers again, his fingers skating up her bare thighs and finding the intimate place between her legs. Alex lets out a shocked gasp, her head dropping back against the door behind her with a thud. "I've been waiting so long to hear you beg me – to make you feel like this."

She throbs under his touch, surprised at the slickness of her sex and ache of being… unfilled. "Matt," she whinges, and he grunts, a soft, possessive noise into her neck. He strokes her with long, skilled fingers and she can't breathe or think or do anything but blink away the colored lights dancing in front of her eyes.

"So wet, Alex," he says with an appreciative groan. "I think you like being angry with me too." He laughs softly, pressing a little harder against her, and Alex makes a strangled noise in her throat, her hips jerking against her will.

Those elegant fingers know exactly what to do and where to touch to make unimaginable heat flood through her and when he strokes the hyper-sensitive spot at the top of her sex, Alex claws at his shirt uselessly and sobs, "I – oh god." Without thought, she rocks her hips against his hand, silently demanding more of that sparking, sputtering pleasure flaring low in her belly.

"That's it," Matt whispers, his dark eyes watching her intently. "Just like that." She grinds down on his hand and sees stars behind her eyes, her lips parting on a breathy gasp. "Such a good girl, yes, there you are."

His hand is tireless against her, rubbing the slick heat between her thighs expertly, his low voice in her ear whispering all manner of filthy things that shouldn't thrill her the way they do. She moves frantically against him, a tightly coiled pressure in her belly making her cry out, begging him for some sort of release.

"Matt," she whimpers, clutching at him, tears pricking her eyes. "I can't."

"Sshh, I know," he says soothingly, his other hand threading through her hair. "Don't fight it, pet. Just let go, let it take you." She turns her face up to his and he kisses her hungrily, angling his hand just so and something inside her snaps. Like a dam breaking, she is flooded by the most intense, all-consuming bliss, her sex fluttering wildly against Matt's fingers. She lets out a keening cry, her head thumping against the door behind her as she tosses it back, leaving Matt to suckle at the skin of her throat as his hand continues to move, wringing every last ounce of pleasure from her.

She trembles in the wake of her euphoria, leaning weakly against Matt, who presses soft kisses to her throat and pets her hair, murmuring endearments entirely unlike him. As the shaking stops and the feeling in her legs returns to her, Alex is left stunned by what she just allowed to happen.

"You alright?" Matt asks, pulling back to look at her with soft eyes.

She nods shakily, swallowing hard. "I – I should go."

Eyes pained, he reaches out to touch her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. "Alex -"

"I'm sorry, Matt." She pushes his hand away gently, squeezing his fingers briefly. "That was – that was wonderful, darling. I've never felt -" She pauses, tears filling her eyes. "I just need to think, alright? I'll see you at dinner and we'll talk."

He nods, eyes shuttered and his mouth a thin line. "Very well."

Even with her head a mess, she can't leave him like this. Not after what they just did. Reaching out hastily, she stands on her tiptoes and presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him and wishing she had something reassuring to say. Nothing comes to mind, so she turns on her heel and opens the door to his study, slipping out quietly.

She walks down the hall and out of the house numbly, still feeling a little unsteady on her legs.

She doesn't allow herself to think until she has walked a substantial distance away from the manor, traipsing through the fog and the marshy ground mindlessly. She doesn't think about where she's going, she only walks, her mind entirely elsewhere.

When she married Matt, it had been for her parents' sake and she had wished for nothing but their safety and happiness, with no hope for her own. Matt had been a tall, dark, terrifying menace and when she said I do, she felt as if she were binding her soul to the devil himself. But in the weeks since that day, things have changed. Matt has slowly turned from the taciturn, bad-tempered and brooding stranger to a man who read aloud to her from the newspaper as they sat by the fire in the library, who did his best to make her happy unless it meant putting her in any sort of danger, who had just made her fall apart in his arms with the touch of his tender hands.

The most she ever thought she would receive from her marriage was a roof over her head, fine things to wear and perhaps eventually a peaceful coexistence, but never had it occurred to her that she might fall in love with the dark, gentle, sweetly awkward man she married. And she shouldn't love him. He took her away from her family, and treated her like a servant he could order about as he wished. He is little more than a loan shark – a bloodsucker – who beats people with his walking stick when they don't have the money to pay him back. How can she love a man like him?

But she does.

And yes, he is all of those terrible things but he's also kind and gentle. He takes care of the orphans in his employ, giving them a place to stay away from the cruelty of workhouses, and he takes care of her. He has never pushed her into any sort of physical relationship though most men would have forced her by now, considering it her duty as a wife to please them. Matt wouldn't have touched her back there in his study if she'd protested, if she hadn't melted into his kiss with embarrassing ease. He has a temper, just as she does, but he has never hurt her, not even when she lobbed things at his head and shouted abuse at him. He cares for her. And Alex loves him.

She beams at the realization, stopping right in the middle of a field and laughing in delight. Not even when she was a young girl had she ever hoped to love the man she married. Most matches were not entered into for love, but for mutual benefit. Knowing even as a child that she would never have her own children, the idea of having a husband at all had been something longed for. She had wished for merely respect and kindness from her future husband, but not love – and certainly not the love she feels for Matt, the kind that makes her stomach flutter and tighten, that makes her long for another kiss, another touch of his hand against hers.

Imagine, falling for the devil. It isn't so bad, she thinks. In fact, it's rather wonderful.

With a grin, Alex decides to head back to the manor, hoping to catch Matt before dinner and tell him. Perhaps if she perches on his desk and he isn't too cross with her for leaving, she'll get

another of those toe-curling kisses. And he'd made her feel so incredible. She has no experience in matters of the bedroom but she'd like to return the favor. Except, when she turns to walk back, she realizes she can't see the manor anymore.

Around her, the sky is darkening with the coming night. She gazes around with a worried frown, realizing she must have walked further and for longer than she thought. She wraps her arms around her torso, shivering a little. Nightfall on the moors is always frightfully cold and she'd been in such a stupor as she left the house she hadn't thought to bring her cloak.

Oh, Matt will be furious when he realizes she'd gone out on her own. This is exactly the sort of thing he frets about and she's gone and done it without even meaning to. She'd been so rattled when she left the house that bringing someone with her for her walk hadn't really occurred to her. The time alone had done her good but now she's a bit hopelessly lost.

With a sigh, she starts walking in the direction she thinks the house is in, hoping that Matt will notice she's missing and send someone to search for her. Her breath clouds in the air, mixing with the thick fog laying like a blanket over the land, and Alex shivers, wishing she'd at least been clear-headed enough to remember her cloak. She thinks of the lovely, fur-lined beauty from Paris Matt had bought for her with a moan of longing, traipsing along in her thin dress. She isn't sure how long she walks or how far, but by the time she hears the sound of hoof beats in the distance, she is freezing, tired, and hungry.

"About time," she calls out with a grin of relief. "I thought you'd never find me!"

A horse appears through the fog and she waves her arm teasingly to catch Benson's attention, but as the rider draws near, she realizes it isn't Benson or Matt or anyone else she recognizes. She drops her arm, suddenly uncertain. Who would be out on the moors at this time in the evening? No one lives near here but Matt.

The horse slows to a halt in front of her and she glimpses a pale, broad face beneath the hood of the rider's cloak. "Lost, miss?"

"No," she says, almost on instinct. "I was taking a walk and I thought you were someone else. We don't see many strangers in this area, sir."

The rider drops his hood, revealing a man with dark cropped hair, piercing blue eyes and a permanent frown on his face. Alex eyes the cut on his lip and his swollen, bruised jaw with unease. "Sorry to have startled you, miss."

"Missus," she corrects with a frown.

He nods his head at her in deference but she isn't oblivious to the calculation in his eyes as his gaze roves over her. She fights back a disgusted shiver, wishing desperately for Matt or Benson or even Parker to be with her. Slowly, he swings his leg over the side of his horse and drops down from his saddle, and as his cloak flaps in the wind, she notices that one of his arms is in a makeshift sling. The sight of it eases her mind somewhat, knowing that if she has to, she can surely get away from a one-armed man, however determined he might be.

"I'm looking for someone," he says, and her heart drops before he continues, "A man."

"Oh?" She asks, inching backward as he takes a step toward her.

"Goes by the name Smith." The rather revolting stranger turns his head and spits, oblivious to Alex's wrinkled nose. "Heard of him?"

She swallows, nodding. "I have. He's my husband."

His eyes widen a little, his gaze suddenly more interested than ever as he looks her up and down, grinning as well as he can with a split lip. "So you're the little tart he trapped into marriage. No offense, love, but I was expecting someone a bit younger. I suppose you'll do anyway." Before she can ask what he means or perhaps kick him for his insolence, the man reaches out with lightening speed and wraps a meaty hand around her arm, dragging her into him. She yelps in surprise, struggling against his hold on her, but even with only one arm, he's stronger than he looks.

"Let go of me," she shouts, squirming in his grasp. "I swear to god I'll -"

"Scream all you like, love," he says. "There's no one around for miles. You've wandered a bit too far from home." His breath smells of pork and cheap ale, and Alex gags, turning her head away. "Quite a wild thing, aren't you? I can see why he might be interested, the cad. But I'm afraid you're going to have to come with me." Alex struggles harder, her heart pounding wildly but he pays her no mind, stroking a lock of her hair. "Your husband needs to be taught he can't just take whatever he wants. I have a feeling losing you might hurt more than those ribs of his, don't you?"

Oh god. It's him. It's the man who tried to hurt Matt and now he's come back, just like Matt had been afraid someone might one day – the very reason he tries so hard to make sure she's never alone and she always has someone near who can protect her if the need arises. She is his

weakness, and she has left herself as vulnerable as he feared she might. Panicking inwardly, she snaps, "You are even more ignorant than you look if you think that horrible man cares about anyone but himself. I'm nothing to him! Please, just let me go."

He huffs out a puff of laughter against her face and she stops breathing. "I think you underestimate yourself, Lady Smith."

She can't let this man take her away. No one knows where she is and they'll have no idea where to find her. And Matt. Matt will think she ran away again, that she hates him and what happened in his study meant nothing. She can't bear the mere thought. So she fights, kicking his shins and scratching at his face as the man starts dragging her toward his horse, screaming for help at the top of her lungs and fully believing no one will hear her.

But someone does.

Just as the man shoves her against his horse and backhands her to shut her up, Alex stifles a cry and hears the sound of horses in the distance. She nearly cries in relief as two riders emerge from the fog, recognizing one of them instantly as Matt. The stranger obviously recognizes him as well because the moment he sees him, he swears under his breath and shoves her away, sending her stumbling forward. He mounts his horse with impressive speed, considering one of his arms is in a sling, and begins to gallop away just as Matt and Benson reach her.

At a nod from Matt, Benson is off after him at top speed, the fog instantly swallowing up both riders into the night. Alex barely notices; too busy shivering violently from the cold and the adrenaline, knowing that if Matt had been only a few minutes later, she probably never would have seen him again.

Matt jumps from Cerberus and reaches her in moments, the line of his mouth hard and grim, but his eyes panicked. Tears fill her eyes the moment he lays a hand on her arm and she collapses into his chest, clinging to him tightly and trying to reign in the urge to just sob with the shock of it all. "I'm sorry," she babbles. "I didn't mean to leave on my own, I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean to go so far or -"

"Shhh," he breathes, gathering her into his arms and holding her tightly, his face pressed into her hair. "It's alright, Alex. I've got you. You're fine, pet." He smoothes a hand over her back soothingly, clutching her to him as if he'd been the one lost and terrified. "Did he hurt you? Let me see, come here." He pulls back, holding her face in his hands and scanning her quickly, eyes intent. He brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, clenching his jaw at the red mark on her skin. "If Benson doesn't kill him, I certainly will."

She nuzzles into his palm, shivering.

He softens instantly, pulling her back into him with gentle hands and leading her toward his horse. "Come on then. Let's get you warmed up." He yanks her fur-lined cloak from the saddle – the very same one she'd been longing for – and wraps it around her shoulders.

She snuggles into it gratefully, letting him help her onto Cerberus after he climbs up. He settles her in front of him rather than behind, as if he can't bear to have her out of his sight for a moment. In her dress, she's forced to ride sidesaddle but for once she doesn't mind because it means she can still see his face. His arms wrap around her to reach the reins and she's suddenly hyper aware of his closeness. "How did you find me?"

"You missed dinner, pet." He digs his heel into the horse's side and clicks his tongue, leading the animal into a canter back in the direction of the manor. "And then I realized everyone was accounted for but you, meaning you were out on your own." She bites her lip, thinking of the panic he must have felt as she leans into his chest, delighting in the feel of his chin resting on her shoulder. He nuzzles his face into the side of her neck, pressing his lips to her hair. "Do you have any idea how it felt to hear you scream and be unable to see you or get to you? What if I couldn't find you, Alex? You gave me the bloody fright of my life!"

"I'm sorry," she whispers, hand resting on his thigh. "I just wanted to think, darling."

"Next time you need to think," he says dryly. "Perhaps you could retire to your chambers for a bloody nap."

"Is that an order?"

His mouth twitches. "A helpful suggestion."

When the lights of the manor come into view, Alex has never seen a more inviting sight in her life. She hadn't realized until now just how much she has grown to love the drafty old place. She loves its creaking floors and its winding corridors, loves the fog and the wet ground, she even loves the rattling windowpanes in the howling wind. It's home.

Matt puts Cerberus in the stable, helps her down from the saddle and once she's on the ground, he lifts her off her feet and carries her into the manor, one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees. Wrapped in her cloak, her head resting on his shoulder, Alex feels a bit like a child, but his arms are warm and strong, safety personified. She's too tired and comfortable to

protest. He carries her up the stairs and down the hall, and she says nothing when he passes by her bedchambers and continues on, her breath catching when she realizes he's taking her to his chambers instead. He glances down at her indrawn breath, brow furrowed as if to ask if she has any objections. Alex curls her hands into his coat collar and snuggles further into his embrace, content. His arms tighten around her, his lips brushing her forehead.

Shutting the door to his chambers with his boot, he carries her to his large, four-poster bed and deposits her on it. She shifts to sit up, dropping the cloak from her shoulders, instantly warmer thanks to the fire crackling in the fireplace on one wall. "You need to get out of those damp clothes," he says. "You could catch your death out there, Alex. You should have at least brought your cloak instead of fleeing the house like a madwoman."

Still too content to even frown at him, Alex only says, "I hadn't the presence of mind to think about a cloak," and sighs at the smug look he gives her. She stands on shaky legs and lets him help her undress. He undoes the tiny row of buttons on the back of her gown, her stomach lurches at every brush of his fingers, but she resolutely ignores it, maneuvering her arms out of her dress and letting it drop to the floor before kicking it away. In silence, he works on her corset next, each little bit he unlaces giving her more and more room to breathe until finally she feels like a free woman again. He tosses it aside carelessly and steps back, and she instantly misses the warmth of having him near.

Shedding her petticoats, she leaves all of her finery as a silken puddle in the middle of his bedroom floor and climbs back onto the bed in just her shift. She might have felt a little more self-conscious if he wasn't so insistent on never knocking before he barged into her bedroom. She can't even count the number of times he's seen her in only her thin chemise.

He leans against one of his bedposts, watching her intently, his hair dipping into his eyes. "Why did you need to think?"

She takes a deep breath and decides to be honest. "Because I never meant to feel anything for the man I married to pay a debt."

Matt nods slowly, ducking his head. "But you do. Feel something, I mean."

He says it like a question and her heart swells as she looks at him. "I decided on my walk that I don't hate you."

Chuckling, he lifts his head and regards her fondly. "You're sweeping me off my feet, pet."

She pats the bed and he obeys her silent request, climbing up to sit next to her. She leans into his side and he wraps his arm around her shoulders, tugging her into him. Resting her head in the crook of his arm, she presses her face into his coat and breathes in his scent, shutting her eyes. "I'm glad I'm here. With you."

"As opposed to the man who tried to carry you off a few minutes ago?"

She sighs patiently. "No. Just in general."

Fingers curling around her shoulder, Matt hums thoughtfully. "I thought I took you away from your family and everything you love to live with me in hell?" He snorts. "Isn't that what you said on our wedding night?"

Alex flinches at her own words come back to haunt her, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, darling," she says, reaching up to touch his cheek. "I didn't – I was angry and scared. But I'm not now." She swallows, turning to look at him properly, cupping his cheek in her hand and making him look at her. "This is my home, here with you and your thieving little orphans." She laughs, a choked, watery sound. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

Hazel eyes, softer than she's ever seen them, shine as they look down into her own. "Are you saying you're alright with being married to Satan?"

She giggles, her hands stroking his cheeks tenderly. "Call me the queen of hell," she murmurs.

Matt surges forward without another moment's hesitation and captures her mouth with his own, but she feels his crooked grin against her lips and it makes her smile. Threading her fingers through his hair, she arches into him with a contented sigh. Kissing Matt is already her favorite thing in the world. His mouth is hot and slick, his tongue strokes against hers with an eagerness that makes her toes curl. Freed from her constraining corset, her breasts brush against his chest as she presses herself close to him and Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving to grab her hips, tugging her into him.

She crawls into his lap and feels his hands slide down over her thighs to the hem of her shift, dragging it slowly up her legs. He pauses when he reaches her waist, his mouth stopping its movement against her own, as if he's waiting for her permission to continue. The thought of being bare before him, of having those large, tender hands on her naked skin, is enough to make her dizzy and Alex whimpers, nodding hurriedly.

Matt nips at her bottom lip before pulling away, dragging her shift up over her head and tossing it aside. For a moment, he only stares at her with dark eyes, his cheeks flushed and his breathing short and sharp. Sitting astride his lap with absolutely nothing to cover herself with, Alex should feel self-conscious, but it's difficult when he's looking at her like that – with such awe and wonder, like he can't believe he's allowed to be near something so precious.

His hand trembles as he trails it down her jaw, over her throat and across her collarbones before dipping between her breasts. Her breath catches in her throat but she keeps her eyes on his face. He watches his hands move over her body, such careful intent in his gaze, as if he has never done anything more important in his life and he wants to get it just right. It makes her heart swell in her chest and she knows that despite her inexperience, she trusts him. She is safe in his care – and wouldn't the very thought of that have been amusing to her mere months ago?

Cupping her breasts in his palms, he squeezes softly, as if to test the weight of them, and she can't help but notice how perfectly she fits in his hands, as if she had been made for the very purpose of filling his palms. His thumbs brush her nipples and she gasps quietly, arching into the touch. He squeezes harder, leaning forward to lick and suck the soft flesh. Alex curls her fingers into his hair to hold him in place, making small, encouraging noises in the back of her throat as he wraps his mouth around her nipple, laving and sucking until the sensitive bud hardens beneath his attention.

That same familiar fire from before is licking at her insides again, more intense than ever. Alex tries to think through the haze in her mind, and when she slides a hand from his hair to grasp at his collar, she realizes something. "You're still dressed," she whispers, and Matt laughs softly, pressing a kiss to the valley between her breasts. "Hardly fair, darling."

"My apologies," he murmurs, and as he turns his attention to undoing his cravat, Alex takes the opportunity to explore his jaw and neck with her tongue and teeth. She tries to be as thorough as he'd been and his stubble scratches at her mouth and chin, which she finds strangely delightful.

She hums her appreciation, hands stroking over his biceps as she finds his adam's apple and nips with her teeth. Matt flings his cravat aside and swears, threading a hand through her hair and yanking her head up to kiss her roughly.

She holds his face in her hands and responds with equal passion, shifting impatiently in his lap. It's now that she feels a hardness beneath her, pressing against her thigh through Matt's trousers. Still kissing him, she shifts again and presses down a little harder. Matt groans into her mouth, his hands moving from her hair to slide slowly down her naked back. He cups her bottom and yanks her into him, and the delicious friction of that clothed bulge rubbing against her bare sex is sinful and delicious. Alex tosses her head back with a gasp and he nips at her throat, murmuring, "My precious little minx. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

She moves on top of him once more, sliding the wet hot slickness between her thighs against the bulge in his trousers again, whimpering as she listens to Matt groan and swear, his fingers digging into her bum. "Show me," she whispers, pressing her lips to his temple. "Show me what I do to

you, darling."

Holding her hips, Matt moves quickly, and Alex yelps as he presses her into the mattress, suddenly hovering over her. "Don't move," he says, and she shivers at the quietly spoken order, nodding. He slips from the bed to undress in the firelight and she watches him lift his shirt over his head and reveal the pale, lightly muscled chest and flat stomach she'd glimpsed only a day ago, inspecting his bruised ribs in this very room.

"Are you alright?" She asks, suddenly unsure. "I mean, your ribs, darling -"

He laughs quietly, shaking his head as he begins to unlace his trousers. "There is nothing in the world that could stop me from making love to you tonight, pet. Least of all a couple of bruised ribs."

She might have pressed the issue but Matt is stepping out of his trousers, tossing them aside and straightening. She gets her first glimpse of him completely naked and her eyes widen. "You're -" She licks her lips, staring unashamedly. She's never seen a naked man before and now, faced with the man she loves standing before her, she feels at a loss and entirely out of her depth. She wants to please him, wants to make him feel as good as he makes her feel, but she's frustratingly clueless about exactly how.

Matt climbs onto the bed to join her, pressing kisses to her stomach and chest as he slides up to lay alongside her. "Come here," he says softly, and tugs her into him. She complies instantly, allowing him to direct her until she's straddling his thighs and looking down at him anxiously. "It's alright, sweetheart. Just touch me."

At first, her mind is a blank as she looks down at him, but she quickly remembers the way he'd kissed her neck and chest, how he'd used his teeth to scrape against her skin and how very much she'd liked it. Surely he must like the same. She leans forward, careful of his ribs as she balances herself over him, and begins to kiss his chest. Matt sighs beneath her, and encouraged, she becomes a little bolder, snaking out her tongue to taste his skin. She circles his nipples with her thumbs, flicking with her nail until he squirms beneath her, a little flushed.

She scoots forward to get a better angle and her sensitive sex rubs against him again, this time with no barrier between them. They both gasp, clutching at each other in pleasure. She scrambles backward quickly, sitting on his knees and looking down at the hard, flushed red length of him, an unspeakable longing stirring in her belly. "Can I -"

"Please," Matt hisses, his hips lifting off the bed a little. "That's what you do to me, do you see?"

She wraps her hand around him, marveling at the velvet soft feel of something so very hard. It's delightfully contradictory. She strokes him gently, and when Matt groans low in his throat, she increases the pressure of her fist around him, swiping her thumb curiously over the tip, which only seems to make him writhe more beneath her. Watching his pleasure is like a pleasure all its own for her and the ache between her legs is starting to border on uncomfortable. Her thighs feel sticky and damp, but she tries to ignore it, exploring Matt further.

Curiosity gets the better of her and when she bends her head to discover what he tastes like, running her tongue over the tip of his hardness to lick up the wetness there – salty, strange, but not entirely unpleasant – Matt loses any self control he'd been clinging to. Gripping her by the shoulders, he yanks her up to him and kisses her, his hands roaming her body frantically. She responds in kind, moaning softly into his mouth, and letting him flip them over so he can press her into his bed.

"Darling, please," she breathes against his lips, her hands slipping down between them to touch him again. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, his face pressed into her hair. "I need you." Her whole body feels taut with unexplainable tension, stronger even than what she felt in his study earlier, and she wants the same release he'd given her then, wants to feel her body snap and flood with pleasure more powerful than she's ever known.

"It's alright," he soothes, his hands traversing her sides, stroking the indent of her waist. "I'll take care of you."

She smoothes his hair from his face tenderly, her smile soft. "I know."

Sliding one hand down her waist and between her legs, he finds her throbbing and strokes the fire into a roaring inferno. His long fingers slip through her wetness, drawing more of it out until the musky scent fills the air around them. And then he does something unexpected. He slips a finger inside her and Alex feels her eyes roll back in her head as her body shudders. "Oh. Oh god. That's -" He crooks his finger inside her and presses with the heel of his palm against the sensitive bud at the top of her sex, and all words evaporate from her throat and her mind, leaving nothing but a desperate, keening cry.

Matt chuckles softly, pressing his lips to the hollow of her throat. "I think you're ready for me, pet."

She nods mindlessly, clutching at his shoulders so hard her fingers ache.

He slides his finger from within her and she feels emptier for the loss of it, unsatisfied and wanting. He shushes her whinge of protest with a kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he shifts above her, and she only has time to feel a faint twinge of surprise at the blunt hardness against the entrance of her sex before Matt kisses her harder and she loses her train of thought. She moans into his mouth, losing herself in the press of his soft lips, the stroke of his tongue and the taste of his evening brandy. His kisses are her own evening brandy, she decides. No day will be complete without his mouth on hers.

With her sufficiently distracted, Matt surges forward, sliding smoothly inside her. Alex tosses her head back in shock, gasping up at the ceiling and feeling tears prick her eyes as pain replaces the pleasurable ache between her thighs. "Sshh," he whispers softly, his hands stroking her face as he rocks into her, filling her up so completely. "I know, pet. I know. It's all right; it'll pass. I promise."

He presses sweet kisses to her hairline as her body stretches to accommodate the hard girth of him inside her. The feeling of being so unutterably full is foreign to her, and Alex blinks away her tears, trying to focus on that rather than the pain that is already starting to fade. They are joined in every way now, their marriage finally consummated. Matt strokes his hands over her sides, ducks his head to suck at her nipples, and under his attentions, it isn't long before the throbbing desire returns with a vengeance, making her shift impatiently beneath him, grasping his shoulders.

"Matt," she whimpers, and rocks her hips against him. They both moan as he slides further within her, fully sheathed, and Matt raises himself up over her, his forearms by her head as he shifts his hips, slowly sliding out of her only to drive back in. She cries out beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Again," she breathes.

He smiles down at her, and his hazel eyes are so full of tenderness that she can't remember why she ever thought this man was anything other than wonderful. He pulls out and pushes back in again, and the increasing slickness of her sex makes the friction so perfectly slippery. "So tight, pet," he says through gritted teeth. "You have no idea how good you feel."

She wraps her legs around his waist as Matt starts a slow, hard rhythm inside her, lifting her hips at every inward thrust to let the head of his length press against some unknown, positively wanton place inside her that makes her see stars every time he strokes against it. She clings to him as he murmurs endearments and filth all intermingled, making her head spin, capable only of asking for more as her nails rake down his back.

It isn't long before every stroke of him inside her makes her scream, their skin slick with sweat as they move frantically against each other. Matt's pace is fast and hard now, his stuttering hips losing their rhythm as he pumps into her erratically, his sweat-damp hair falling into his burning eyes as he looks down at her, that sinful mouth never stopping the litany of encouragement and smut. "You're mine," he whispers with a possessive growl. He grinds against her, his abdomen rubbing against that swollen little button between her legs. "Tell me, Alex. Tell me you're mine."

Alex cries out, nodding. "Yours, darling. I'm yours."

That exquisite flood of pleasure is eminent, tingling all through her limbs and at the base of her spine as her sex tightens around Matt more and more with every uneven thrust. "Mine," he says again, softer now. "And I am yours, my precious girl."

With a full heart and one last shout of ecstasy, Alex throws her head back on her pillow and lets the tide of pleasure pull her under, shaking beneath Matt as her body pulses and shudders with the intensity of it all. Matt moves his hips with renewed fervor as her sex clutches around him, burying his face in her hair and just clinging to her. Alex runs her small hands over his back and whispers, "Yours, yours, always yours." He lets out a sharp cry, his grip on her bruising, and she feels a flood of warmth between her thighs.

He pants into her neck, limp on top of her, and Alex stretches out beneath him, utterly content as he catches his breath. She likes feeling his skin against hers, likes the way his weight constricts her breathing like the best kind of corset. She feels colder when he lifts himself off of her and rolls over onto his back, and she turns instantly to curl herself into his side, her head on his chest. It's hard to believe there was a time when she hated even being in the same room with him, and now she can't seem to get close enough.

"I love you," she confesses softly.

Burying one hand in her curls and wrapping his other arm around her waist, Matt drops a kiss to the top of her head. "And I you, pet. You have no idea how much."

She moves into his chambers after that night and it's everything she never let herself hope her marriage would be. He holds her in the night, wakes her in the morning with sleepy kisses and his hands sneaking beneath the hem of her shift. She sits next to him at breakfast rather than across from him, and sometimes, when she's in the middle of sipping her tea, he'll take her hand and kiss her knuckles, the look in his eyes enough to make her cheeks heat up and her mind wander to very unladylike places.

When he retreats to his study, she still goes to the stables but there are often times when she accompanies him instead, perching on his desk and distracting him from his work. She likes to make him blush because it's such a rarity, sitting on his desk and taking his hands, sliding them beneath her petticoats with that needy little whimper that drives him absolutely mad. He gets much

less work done with her around, but he never complains.

That isn't to say they never argue anymore. Their rows, when they happen, are just as explosive as ever, and Alex still tends to throw things when he infuriates her, but now they have a release for their anger and she isn't ashamed to admit that sometimes she just pretends to be cross because of how rough Matt always is with her in their bed after.

It's just such a morning after a particularly wonderful night of making up that Alex wakes later than she'd intended, opening her eyes to rumpled sheets and an empty room, the gloomy morning light filtering in through the drapes. She stretches languidly and sits up, a little stiff and bruised, no but worse for wear. Spotting Matt's dressing gown draped at the foot of the bed, Alex slips it on over her naked frame and runs a hand through her disheveled curls.

It takes quite a bit of stealth to sneak down to Matt's study so scantily clothed without being spotted by any of the children but she makes it without incident, slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. Scowling deeply at a pile of papers in front of him, her husband glances up at the sound of the door closing, sees her in his dressing gown tied loosely at the waist, and groans. "Bloody hell, you're insatiable."

"Like you're much better," she says, rounding his desk and settling on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You didn't wake me for breakfast."

"You needed the rest," he says, hands already sliding up her thighs.

She hums, shifting to let her thighs fall open. "You did keep me up awfully late."

"I certainly didn't hear you complaining, dearest," he rumbles, mouthing at her collarbone.

She laughs low in her throat, eyes fluttering at the touch of those slender fingers. "And you never will, darling."

And then those fingers are dipping inside her and stroking her walls, driving her to heights so pleasurable that when she comes apart, she has to bite his shoulder to stifle her cries, her hips stuttering against the hand working inside her. Matt kisses her forehead and cheeks, the tip of her nose, waiting patiently for her to catch her breath. When she kisses him in thanks and tries to unlace his trousers, he stops her with a gentle hand and looks at her thoughtfully.

"What?" She asks, stroking the bulge prodding at her thigh. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he chokes, red-faced as he pushes her hands away. "I wanted to talk to you, actually."

She laughs. "Now?"

"If we wait until after, I don't think I'll be remember much but your name, pet." He smirks at her and she sighs. "Remember when you asked me for something to do weeks ago? To keep you occupied during the day?"

"Yes," she says slowly. "And you let me work in the stables."

He nods, tapping his fingers against his chin. "I did. But how would you like something else to do? I'm sure you've noticed how frankly depressing the gardens are here, and I know you miss the flowers you had at your home. I was considering hiring a gardener but -"

She gasps, her eyes lighting up. "Oh darling, no, not a gardener! Can I do it, please?"

"You can't do it all on your own," he says. "It's a lot of land, Alex. But I'm putting the whole matter entirely in your hands. Order the plants and flowers you like, hire whoever you want to help you. You're in charge, pet."

With a squeal of happiness, she crashes her mouth against his hungrily, mumbling her thanks between every kiss. Already making plans and mentally arranging her gardens, she fumbles between them once more to unlace his trousers. She knows just how to thank him properly.

"Perhaps they aren't home, darling."

"Trust me, they're here." Matt beats his walking stick against the wood of the Halpenny's home, scowling at the doorknocker as if it personally offends him. "Bloody cowards are too frightened of me to open the damn door."

She raises an eyebrow. "I can't imagine why."

He huffs at her, grumbling under his breath.

"Haven't you ever heard the expression 'you catch more flies with honey than vinegar'?" She tugs at her white gloves with a sigh as he bangs on the door again. "Perhaps you should try it."

"I don't want to catch flies, I want money," he snaps, and then raises his voice to be heard by those inside the house, "the money I'm bloody well owed, thank you!"

Alex rolls her eyes.

Glancing at her, he scratches at his cheek. "You can't be nice to these people, Alex. It gets you absolutely nowhere."

"Whereas banging on their door with a stick and shouting at them is working beautifully," she replies tartly.

His mouth twitches. "You think you can do better, pet?"

"Step aside, darling," she says, and pushes him away gently. He allows her his spot by the door, watching her with raised brows, tapping his walking stick against the ground impatiently. "I'll show you how civilized people behave."

He snorts.

Alex lifts the doorknocker and raps it gently against the door. "Hello?" She calls out, using her friendliest voice. "Anybody home?"

After a moment of silence from inside the house, the door creaks open and a petite blonde woman peeks out, her face pale and her eyes wide.

Alex smiles at her kindly. "Are you Mrs. Halpenny?"

The woman nods tentatively.

"I believe your husband owes mine a bit of money," Alex begins primly. "Is he at home?"

Spotting Matt lurking like a dark bird of prey behind Alex, Mrs. Halpenny gasps quietly and tries to shut the door again but Alex sticks her foot out delicately and stops her. "That wasn't very nice," she chides patiently. "We're only trying to collect what's owed us, dear."

Mrs. Halpenny bursts into tears.

Alex glances back at Matt in confusion but the sight of a crying woman is not something he's used to dealing with in any sort of helpful way and he takes a step back, shaking his head and looking a bit ill. With a sigh, Alex turns back to Mrs. Halpenny, shushing her quietly and gathering the small woman into her arms. "It's alright, dear. Hush now."

Between hiccupping sobs, Mrs. Halpenny confesses that her husband, lacking the means to pay Matt back what he borrowed – including the rather illegally high interest Matt charges – had fled yesterday evening and she hasn't seen him since.

"Oh, you poor thing," Alex coos, patting the woman's back. "What a horrible man."

Behind her, she hears Matt mutter under his breath, but she pays him no mind until he says louder, "Be that as it may, I still need my payment."

Mrs. Halpenny sobs.

Alex throws Matt a scolding look over her shoulder and he shrugs carelessly. "I apologize for my brutish husband," she says, ignoring his glare of outrage. "Such a temper, but what can you do? Here, dry your eyes now." She pulls away to reach into the bosom of her dress and produce a white handkerchief. "There you are, that's better." She beams at Mrs. Halpenny, who smiles hesitantly in return. "Now, could you possibly spare a little something in payment, you poor thing? Just a trinket, I promise."

Minutes later, when they're walking toward the carriage with Mrs. Halpenny's garnet brooch and

every pair of Mr. Halpenny's diamond studded cufflinks and expensive leather gloves as payment; Alex hooks her arms through Matt's and sighs happily. "I think that worked out quite well."

"Smugness doesn't suit you," Matt says, but he's grinning at her anyway and she can tell beneath the thin veil of petulance, he's actually quite impressed. He proves her right only minutes later, the moment they're alone and out of sight inside their carriage. He's on her instantly, kissing her until she can't breathe, his hands sliding greedily over her bodice as he growls into her ear, "You were brilliant."

She tugs him onto her seat with her, panting as he licks and nips at her throat, his hands working to rip out the pins holding her hair up. "And smug?"

"Love it when you're smug," he rumbles, and the moment her hair is free, he sinks to his knees in front of her. She parts her legs willingly as he works her skirt and petticoats up her legs and out of the way, grinning breathlessly at him. He bites his way up her thigh, his fingers digging into her skin, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip to muffle a moan, not wanting the coachman to hear.

"Does this mean I can help you?" She asks, hooking her legs over his shoulders as he breathes hotly against her sex. Her breath stutters and she wriggles impatiently, her whole body on fire. "W-with your work?"

"We'll see," he mutters distractedly, but it's more than enough for her as he opens his mouth to devour her.

By the time they arrive back at the manor, her dress has been righted and her hair arranged but the flush on the apples of her cheeks is impossible to hide. Matt doesn't even bother to smother his arrogant grin, lending her his arm to help her from the carriage and lead her inside. Parker is waiting for them in the foyer, holding an envelope and bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently.

"Letter for you, Mistress," he says the moment he sees her, rushing forward with it.

Alex takes it from him with a fond ruffle of his hair, turning to read the envelope. "It's from my father," she says with a frown. She'd written to her mother two weeks ago, finally at a place in her married life where she felt she could tell her mother she was happy and safe without lying. Why would her father reply to her mother's letter?

Pressing a kiss to her temple, Matt says, "I'll leave you to it."

She glances up at him, slightly panicked.

He softens. "I'll be in my study if you need me."

When he and Parker disappear down the hall, Alex sits on the staircase, her hands shaking as she tears the envelope and unfolds the letter. She scans the words quickly, her mind trying to process mother and ill and wants to see you and please come home. She isn't sure how long she sits there, staring blankly at the letter, but eventually, Matt comes to find her and she glances up tearfully at his approach.

"My mother is ill," she whispers. "She's asking to see me."

Matt swallows hard, his hands in his pockets as he looks down at her. "Then you must go home."

She nods numbly, sniffling. "We'll have to pack."

"I'm not coming with you, pet," he says softly.

Glancing up in surprise, she stares at him. "What? No, you have to. I need you with me."

"Your mother won't want to see me." He sighs, ducking his head, and his hair flops into his eyes. "And I can't leave. You know I can't."

Hugging her torso, Alex nods reluctantly and shuts her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks. He has his work to take care of and he can't leave the children on their own, she knows all of that. But she doesn't want to go home alone and face her sick mother – she isn't strong enough to deal with that on her own and more than anything she just wants Matt's hand to hold.

"You'll take the carriage," he says quietly, his voice almost raw. "I'll send Benson with you, if you like." She hears him swallow audibly and opens her eyes to look at him. He still hasn't raised his eyes from the floor and he looks so far from the formidable man she thought she married. "Just promise me."

"Anything, darling," she says.

"Promise me you'll come back."

Her chest tightens at the softly spoken words and she nods, not trusting herself to speak. Standing on shaky legs, she stumbles into his arms and shuts her eyes as he holds her close. "Of course I'll come back," she finally says, voice wobbling dangerously. "You're here."

May 1817

Darling,

I arrived safe and sound, despite your fears that not having Benson with me would mean my imminent demise. Though I'm sorry to say my old home is terribly dull in comparison to the manor. I spend most of my days either sitting by my mother's bedside or making sure my father eats. He's worried himself sick about her but I have faith that she will recover in time. Already her fever has lessened, and I think it gave her strength just to see me again.

They were both so glad to be reunited, and it did my heart good to be near them again and to let them see how happy you've made me. I think they feared you'd locked me away in a tower somewhere and they would never see me again. I promised them both that when mother is well again, they could visit us at the manor and see for themselves that I'm hardly a prisoner, but neither of them seems particularly keen on it. I'm sure it isn't to do with you, my love. They hate fog.

It's strange to be back in my old bedroom and nothing feels quite right anymore. I spent such a long time wishing I could go back before I fell in love with you, and now that I'm here, it has only confirmed what I already knew. Home is not where I grew up; home is wherever you are. I miss you terribly. I miss your arms around me; I miss your irritating smirk and your silly hair. I miss your hands and your kisses. Sometimes my body aches with the absence of yours and I lie in my bed at night and touch myself as you taught me. It's nothing compared to your hands on me, but it lessens the ache, if only for a little while.

Please write to let me know you aren't wasting away with missing me and that you're perfectly

well – terrorizing the poor and beating innocent doors into submission with your walking stick.

Yours,

Alex

June 1817

My darling,

I'm so glad to hear you are well and that the children are behaving for you. Please make sure Parker does not become too lofty in his ambitions. I'm afraid if he steals from a viscount who demands he be thrown into a workhouse, there isn't much even you could do to stop him.

However, I'm quite sure you are lying to me, darling husband, and they do indeed miss me. I cannot begin to fathom how they survived so long in only your company. You are a good man, of course, but you were quite lacking in displays of affection before I came along. If it wouldn't pain you greatly, give them all hugs for me and tell them to be good and mind their manners – especially Parker.

Mother isn't well enough to leave her bed yet, but she is well enough to sit up and I pass most of my afternoons entertaining her with stories of the manor – like the time you caught me braiding Cerberus' mane and refused to speak to me all through dinner out of sheer petulance, or the time Parker and Hobbs stole all of Benson's trousers and hid them in Nyctaeus' stable. Most often, I find myself talking of you and unable to keep the love and fondness from leaking through into my voice, effusing my tales of you with warmth. Mother always looks at me skeptically, and before I leave her to rest, she always grabs my hand and warns me that you are not a man, but a monster, and that I should not let you deceive me. I only tell you this so that you know, my love, it is those who don't truly know you as I do who have been deceived.

Do you remember that night – nearly a fortnight after our marriage was consummated? You told me the story of a young boy who grew up in a workhouse, starved and abused daily. I think of it so often now that I'm away from you. I feel this pain in my heart and wish I could go scoop up that little boy, hold him to my chest. But if I did, you would not be the man I love now. And I do love you, darling, exactly as you are. I only wish I were not the first.

Your letter is creased and worn from my frequent reading, and I scan the words on the page

without even truly seeing them anymore. Instead, I examine your handwriting and imagine your fingers curled around your quill, imagine the set of your mouth as you studied the page and chose your words carefully. I imagine the ache in your chest when you think of me is the same as mine when I think of you.

Do you lie awake at night missing me as I miss you? Are you sleeping? I keep having terrible imaginings that you aren't looking after yourself in my absence, that you aren't eating or taking a moment away from your work to rest. Don't you dare waste away without me, Matthew, or I shall be very cross when I get home.

Always, always yours,

Alex

July 1817

Insufferable husband,

I'm glad to hear you aren't starving yourself for want of me but must you be quite so scathing about it? Anyway, I have a feeling you aren't being truthful so I've already sent along another letter to Hobbs to make sure she looks after you. I can't very well ravish you to within an inch of your life the moment I return if you're all skin and bones, can I? Oh, darling. If you knew how often I think about you. I fill the hours not taking care of my mother or doing her chores contemplating new ways to make you writhe beneath me.

It's more than that, though. I miss the way you lay your head in my lap and let me read Hobbs' romances aloud to you and I miss your derisive commentary on said romances, though it entirely ruins the mood, darling. I miss the way your mouth twitches when you find me amusing but don't wish for me to know it. I miss being able to walk to your study at any time during the day and find you sitting behind your desk, scowling at your papers and plotting who will next feel your terrible wrath.

And do you know what else I miss? My garden. I only just planted those seeds before my father called me away and now I'm missing the blossoming of all those lovely flowers. I'm glad at least you're there to enjoy them. Look at them and think of me. Are they flourishing? Are they beautiful? Describe them to me, my love.

Mother is still bed-ridden and I don't know when she'll be well enough for me to return. Just trust

that in time, I will.

Your terribly patient wife,

Alex

August 1817

Darling,

I'm so pleased to hear my flowers are well. I've been amusing myself with thinking of you strolling among them in your dark suit with your dour expression, trying your best not to enjoy them without me. Next summer, I think I shall tuck narcissus flowers behind your ears and into your lapels until you are positively sick of them.

I went into town today just to have a break from looking after mother and all those damnable chores. I quite miss having the choice to only do the chores I like doing, such as working in the stables and my garden. It's a luxury I never realized I would miss until I returned here. You've spoiled me terribly. And do you know, the sun seems to shine perpetually here. Is it strange to miss gloom and fog?

Anyway, I thought walking into town and taking in a bit of fresh air might be good for me, but I kept running into people I knew before I left, old friends who were sure they would never see me again. They all seemed to be operating under the assumption that you were a terrible beast who had locked me away in the dark, only to be let out for your pleasure. Honestly darling, I don't know what it is about you that makes everyone think such awful things, but perhaps you should stop beating people with that stick.

Those who didn't talk to me just stared, as if I were part of a sideshow act in the circus. I felt like whispers followed me wherever I went and sometimes people didn't even bother to whisper, talking as if I wasn't even there. If they weren't talking about the scandal of such a young man marrying an old maid like me when I have nothing to offer you – not even the possibility of an heir – they were talking of how tainted with darkness I must be, just by associating with you. I felt so angry that I couldn't help wishing for you. If your glower didn't scare them away, I'm sure a smack across the head with your stick would certainly have done the job. In any case, I don't think I'll be going into town again.

Tell me news of home. I miss you more than I miss clouds and rain.

Your Alex

September 1817

My darling,

Honestly, when I wrote to you about what happened in town, I wasn't asking you to send me your walking stick so I could hit them all myself. Still, I appreciate the gesture, my love. I tucked it into a corner of my bedroom to remind me of you. Sometimes I wrap my fingers around the handle and imagine I can still feel the warmth of your grip there.

Mother improves daily, I'm happy to say. I have high hopes that I will be home again with you by November at the very latest. I'm so impatient for it that it's all I can speak of sometimes, and Mother always frowns at me and says I've quite lost my head. If I have, it's entirely your fault.

I'm glad to hear the children are well and that Mr. Mercer dropped the charges against Parker, but really, my love, you should stop taking him into town with you if he can't control his urge to pilfer pockets. I know you're fond of having him with you, but it just isn't worth the trouble he causes.

Father decided to take care of Mother on his own today to give me a few hours to myself, and even with your gift, I wasn't about to walk back into town. I made the trek to our neighbor's house just down the road instead and slipped unnoticed into their stables, just to be around the horses for a while. I miss our horses – sleek and gorgeous and black, all of them. They look like such great, terrifying beasts – especially Cerberus – but every single one of them is nothing more than a gentle giant. They remind me of you, in a way.

Have I mentioned yet that I miss you?

Alex

October 1817

Darling,

I'm pleased to report my mother is much better and is even walking about slowly on her own, with only a bit of Father's support. I don't think it will be long at all before I can leave and return to you. I miss you so much I can't stand it. You haven't forgotten about me in my absence, have you? If you have, I shall be home soon to remind you.

Do you know what I realized today? We were all sitting down to breakfast at the table, talking pleasantly with one another and asking politely to pass this dish or that dish, and it hit me suddenly that I miss rowing with you. No one here can rile me the way you can or incite such passion within me. I haven't had the urge to throw anything at anybody's head for weeks and I'm almost embarrassed to say that I miss it. You drive me absolutely mad sometimes but I think I would be quite lost if you didn't.

I love the way you get so angry with me you'll shove me against a wall and kiss me until I can't breathe, just to silence me for a moment. I love the darkening of your eyes and way your touch burns like fire, the rough way you push up my skirts and lift me off my feet. As much as I miss your tenderness, my love, I think I miss your fury just as much. Even before I fell in love with you, arguing with you always made my stomach tighten and flutter, always made me throb deep down inside, but I didn't understand that it was desire. I desired you, darling, even that early on.

Whether you're making me furious enough to throw things or happy enough to cry, you never fail to make me feel something.

Your Alex

Matt,

It's November, my love. I'm coming home.

Alex

He's waiting for her when she steps out of the carriage, looking a little pale and tired, but otherwise just the same as when she left him. She laughs in delight at the sight of his familiar, ridiculous face and that grin she knows is meant for her alone, throwing herself into his arms and trusting him to catch her.

He does of course, clinging to her tightly and spinning her around until she shrieks in his ear. Setting her on her feet once more, he takes her face in his hands and finds her mouth with his own. It's a deep, fervent kiss filled with longing and the relief of finally being together again. Alex threads her fingers through his hair, tasting the wildness of the moors and the tang of pomegranates on his tongue.

"I missed you," she breathes, her hands stroking his face. "I missed you, I missed you-"

He kisses her again, grinning against her mouth. "You know, from your letters I never would have guessed."

"Oh shut up and take me to bed," she laughs, nipping at his chin.

She'd left her hair down for the journey home and he runs his fingers through her curls now like a man starved, rumbling, "I think you've gotten even more demanding since you've been gone. God, I've missed you and all this bloody hair."

"Show me," she says, and he picks her up and carries her into the house.

They barely make it to their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them and stumbling toward the bed. They both know they aren't going to last long this first time – it's been six months since they've had each other and release is what they need. Careful kisses and caresses will have to follow later, when the first wave of desire has been sated. Alex straddles his lap hurriedly, yanking at the laces on his trousers with trembling fingers while Matt strokes her thighs beneath her dress, hissing through clenched teeth, "Come on, come on -"

She frees him from the confines of his trousers, pausing briefly to stroke her hand over the hard length of him, relishing the feel of soft velvet skin against her palm once more. Matt digs his fingers into her thighs, swearing under his breath, and Alex laughs, strangely delighted by the way she can still reduce him to nothing better than a salty-mouthed sailor when she touches him. She guides him to the slick hollow of her sex and rocks down, taking him slowly inside of her, her eyes glued to his face to watch the fluttering of his dark eyes and the parting of his lips as he breathes out steadily, struggling to maintain his control.

Alex moans softly as he fills her, circling her hips and drawing a strangled groan from her husband. "Oh yes, that's it. You feel so good, pet."

She shudders, her head falling back. It has been so long and she has missed that low, silky voice and those pet names that fill her heart with tender affection. She raises herself up over him and sinks back down again, and Matt grabs at her breast roughly, his hips lifting to meet hers and pushing himself harder into her. She cries out, repeating the move again and again, reveling in the way her folds part for the thick length of him, taking him inside and fitting him snugly, trembling around him.

He is dark and perfect and terrible and glorious and most importantly he is hers, just as she is his. She moves steadily above him, her breasts bouncing as she rides him, and Matt clings to her and grunts, twisting his hips to drive himself deeper inside her. He slips his hands over her thighs and hips, lavishing her with burning touches, dipping between their joined bodies to stroke her.

"Matt," she whimpers, gasping as he brushes his thumb over that sensitive, tender spot. "Please, darling -"

"I've got you," he murmurs lowly, his eyes dark and intent on her face as he rubs harder, faster. "And you are never, ever leaving me for so long again."

Thighs tight around his hips and her hair wild and damp with sweat, Alex utters a sobbing cry of his name and gives herself over to the tide of pleasure tingling all through her. As she clenches around him, Matt whispers his love and she feels the flood of warm liquid between her thighs signaling his own release. She collapses against his chest as they fight to catch their breath, curling up in his arms and shutting her eyes. It's been six months since she fell asleep entwined with her husband and right now seems as good a time as any to remedy that. Later, she decides, they'll have dinner and she'll get to see the children and perhaps change into her riding trousers and walk out to the stables to greet Benson and the horses.

She sighs happily. It's so good to be home.

Matt fiddles with her curls silently for a while, separating the strands with his fingers and toying with them, and Alex is moments from sleep when he speaks softly into the quiet bedroom, "Part of me refused to believe you would really come back until the moment you stepped out of that carriage." Her eyes fly open but Alex says nothing, letting him finish before she corrects his ridiculous notions. "I was so sure you wouldn't want to return here – not after you went back to your home. I thought surely you would be happier there with people who loved you, rather than here in this hellish place."

"I have people who love me here too," she says, kissing his chest. "And I like this hellish place, thank you. It's home. I love my parents, but it's you and your orphaned minions I want to be with."

He laughs softly, and when she tilts her face up to look at him, he cups her cheek in his palm, his thumb brushing her skin tenderly. "Lady Alexandra Smith," he whispers. "Queen of hell and my heart."

With a giggle and a beaming grin, Alex leans down, her hair framing his face, and kisses the devil sleepy-eyed.

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!


	12. Chapter 12

**Contents**

Cover

About the Book

About the Authors

Title Page

 _Picnic at Asgard_ by Jenny T. Colgan

 _Suspicious Minds_ by Jacqueline Rayner

 _A Gamble with Time_ by Steve Lyons

 _Death in New Venice_ by Guy Adams

 _River of Time_ by Andrew Lane

Copyright

About the Book

'Hello, sweetie!'

Melody Pond, Melody Malone, River Song…She has had many names. Whoever she really is, this archaeologist and time traveller has had more adventures (and got into more trouble) than most people in the universe.

And she's written a lot of it down. Well, when you're married to a Time Lord (or possibly not), you have to keep track of what you did and when. Especially as it may not actually have happened to both of you yet.

These are just a few of River Song's exploits, extracted from her journals. Sometimes, she is with the Doctor. Sometimes she's on her own. But wherever and whenever she may be, she is never far from danger and excitement.

This is just a tiny portion of her impossible life. But it will reveal more than you've ever known about the legend that is River Song.

About the Authors

Jenny T. Colgan has written 16 bestselling novels as Jenny Colgan, which have sold over 2.5 million copies worldwide, been translated into 25 languages, and won both the Melissa Nathan Award and Romantic Novel of the Year 2013. Aged 11, she won a national fan competition to meet the Doctor and was mistaken for a boy by Peter Davison.

Jacqueline Rayner made a wish that she could combine her degree in Ancient History with her profession as a writer, and _The Stone Rose_ was the result. She has written several other _Doctor Who_ novels including _Winner_ _Takes_ _All_. Other major interests include vegetarianism, girls' comics, cats and Golden Age crime fiction.

Steve Lyons has written nearly twenty novels, several audio dramas and many short stories, starring characters from the X-Men and Spider-Man to the Tomorrow People and Sapphire & Steel. He has also co-written a number of books about TV shows, including _Cunning: The Blackadder_ _Programme_ _Guide_ and the bestselling _Red Dwarf_ _Programme_ _Guide_. His previous _Doctor Who_ work includes the novels _Conundrum, The Witch Hunters_ and _The_ _Crooked World_ , audio dramas _The Fires of Vulcan_ and _Colditz_ , and work for the official _Doctor Who Magazine_. He lives in Salford, near Manchester.

Guy Adams lives in Spain, surrounded by rescue animals. Some of them are his family. He isn't a spy, but he is a boy, so naturally he's always dreamed of being one. Having spent over ten years working as a professional actor and comedian, eventually he decided he'd quite like to eat regularly, so switched careers and became a full-time writer. Nobody said he was clever. Against all odds he managed to stay busy and since then he has written over twenty books.

Andrew Lane has written more than 30 books in various genres – fiction and non-fiction, adult and Young Adult, crime and science fiction. Most recently he has been responsible for the internationally successful _Young_ _Sherlock Holmes_ series of novels (8 and counting) while the first book in his new _Crusoe_ series will be published this year. His first novel was a licensed _Doctor Who_ book – the Seventh Doctor novel _Lucifer Rising_ – and he also writes _Doctor Who_ audio dramas for Big Finish Productions.

Picnic at Asgard Jenny T. Colgan Monday 5 May 5147

Stormcage]

"Oi!", Foi a primeira coisa que ouvi.

Este foi um bom sinal. Definitivamente um bom presságio. Arrisquei se abrir uma pálpebra.

'O que diabos florescendo que você acha que está fazendo?' Tentando não vomitar teria sido a resposta honesta.

Era o tempo Hopper. Negociado com Frodene nos chuveiros por noventa e cinco ratos de açúcar que havia inexplicavelmente chegaram anonimamente 4600 anos após sua

prazo de validade; e uma relíquia de proteção incrivelmente rara e santo Pai Otaviano me enviou anos atrás, com uma letra implorando que eu mantê-lo por mim sempre na minha busca de verdadeiro arrependimento. Frodene gosta dele brilhando em sua cauda.

O Hopper não pode começar após o campo de força Tesla, é claro, mas - se você está feliz para ficar em um só lugar - surpreendentemente, ele funciona perfeitamente. Lá estava eu, ainda na minha cela, geograficamente perfeito; mas no mesmo dia a célula estava sendo construída. Os bares não foram sequer ainda montado.

'Onde brotam, então?

Notei voz surpresa do operário soou um pouco abafada, então percebi que meu aborrecimento que eu não conseguia respirar. Eles não tinham ainda oxigenada a área. Tão irritante. 'Desculpa! Tenho que ir! "Eu disse em uma voz ligeiramente estrangulada, quickstepping sobre suas ferramentas e parando apenas para pegar o seu cartão-chave e seu suprimento de oxigênio. Estou quase cem por cento de certeza ... talvez setenta e nove por cento de certeza ... que um de seus colegas teria chegado a ele com o oxigênio back-up no tempo. E depois disso, nós dois precisamos de um dia de folga.

 _Asgard_

Ele estava à espera, de braços cruzados, encostada na TARDIS, fingindo que não estava mexendo. Ele odeia esperar. Se ele não está chegando em cima da hora, não vale a pena.  
"Vamos lá!", Ele disse. 'É aberto e tudo! Nós estamos perdendo isso! '' Olá, querida.'

"Eu pensei, 'disse ele, desdobrando seus braços:" Você chamados apenas as pessoas que quando você não conseguia se lembrar seus nomes.'

"Não é verdade", respondi, deixando de lado o capacete roubado. "É também, se eu não consigo lembrar o seu género. De qualquer forma, eu tive que parar no mercado. '

Ele olhou desconfiado para o cesto de vime que eu trouxe. "O que estamos tendo que comer?'

"Pare de ser exigente."

'Eu só quero-'

"Não", eu disse com firmeza. "Se você está escolhendo o local, eu estou escolhendo a comida. E, a propósito, a localização é ridículo.

"Ele virou-se, alegremente, os vastos portões dourados espalhar-se diante de nós, brilhando como louco no sol da manhã." Não é isso ?! '

ASGARD™. A planet-sized theme park. It is ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. 'A celebration of all things legendary.' The skies were a heaving, rolling pink, always with a strategic ray of sun bursting through triumphantly; you could take part in a great fire funeral, or join the Beating Tunnel Ship of 10,000 Drums ride; or fly mechanical eagles through thrilling rock falls. They have a 5,000-metre waterfall with a hotel built into the cave behind it that's lit entirely by naturally occurring prisms.

'This place is so tacky,' I said, as we walked through the vast bright shining gates towards the

Rainbow Bridge, with thousands of other excited-looking tourists; children bubbling with excitement, wearing their toy winged helmets and brandishing bendy hammers indiscriminately and then being told off for it.

'Don't anger the Gods!'

'Are you going to be like this all day?'

I nudged at him to look at the family near us. They were Pharax. Blue, at any rate. Three parents, and a clutch of children at various stages, including one nearly fully grown, and obviously a teenager. His clothes were ill-fitting and drooped, and he slouched, as much as a flint exoskeleton could slouch.

The lad's expression showed plainly how annoyed he was at being dragged here, even as his younger siblings bounced and hopped cheerfully round his feet and pointed at things they wanted to buy later. And he kept taking out an electronic device, whereupon one of his parents would tell him to put it away and he would scowl and do it reluctantly.

'Teenagers are the same in every galaxy,' I said. 'I know,' said the Doctor, smiling. 'Brilliant.'

And there was a slight pause. And I told myself sternly I wasn't bringing it up.

'Certainly, sir, madam,' the attendant in the booth was saying, as the Doctor waggled the psychic paper at him. 'It's a great honour to have you here today. Let me make sure you have VIP passes to everything. Gets you to the front of all the rides.'

'Oh,' said the Doctor, looking wounded. 'Oh, no, I mean, we would _never_ push in in a queue.' 'Doctor!' I hissed. 'I'm not waiting for hours to go on stupid rides! Take the passes!'

'But it's not fair!' he said.

The attendant was beginning to look suspicious, which always has a wobbly effect on psychic paper.

'Just take them!' I said.

'And your complimentary horned helmets!' offered the attendant.

'No, thank you,' I said, at the exact same second the Doctor said, 'Cool!'

We joined the hordes of day-trippers streaming onto the Rainbow Bridge. 'I'm not skipping the queues, though,' he said mutinously.

'I know,' I said. 'That's why I brought a book.'

Still, you would have had to be a lot more churlish than me – and have spent a lot less time staring at a brick wall – not to be impressed by the Rainbow Bridge.

This area of the park was always a stunning gold and pink dawn, fresh fingers of the sun warming your shoulders; and a 5,000-piece orchestra played you across on great swells of sublime music. You could glimpse the endless waterfall in the distance, but the river below was wild and deep and clear and looked like the most refreshing, cold and delicious thing ever, like liquid sunlight. (They had glasses of it for sale at a concession stand, so you could find out – for an exorbitant fee.) Still, you really did feel like you were leaving one world behind, and I smiled, feeling quite excited.

'I'm not doing the mining,' I warned him.

'Come on! "Join 5,000 trolls digging for real gold and diamonds in a hundred real mountain tunnels a mere eagle ride away!"' the Doctor read from the map. 'What's not fun about that?'

'You're forgetting I only narrowly avoided the hard labour mines…' I began, but he'd gone. I glanced around. He'd better not be looking for trouble. This was not the day for that. Plus, I had to talk to him about …

I spotted him by the stone sides of the bridge, kneeling in front of a very small rotund humanoid child, who was sobbing inconsolably.

'It's OK,' he was saying. 'You're not lost. Well, not for long. Nobody can stay lost for long. Not when I'm about. Here, look at this.'

He took his screwdriver out and made it shoot tiny coloured fireworks in the air. Which I had thought was a waste of space when he did the modification, so shows all I know.

The child's eyes widened and it reached up a sticky hand.

'I know, it's my favourite, too,' said the Doctor. 'But don't touch. What's your mother's name? Do you know?'

'Mama,' said the child.

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'Good start. Got anything else to go on?' 'Want Mama!'

'Let me just programme this to get a DNA trace—'

The child grabbed hold of the sonic very tightly and refused to let it go. 'The thing is, if you give it back to me, I can find your mama.'

'Find Mama!' ordered the child. 'Give LIGHTS ME! ME LIGHTS!' 'Let me just…' said the Doctor, switching the fireworks setting off. 'WAAAAH!' The child screamed fit to wake the dead.

Suddenly a vast lumbering mountain of a person huffed over and grabbed the child by the hand. 'Mure! There are you are! Oi! What the blooming heck do you think you're doing?'

I was hearing that a lot today.

'Well, your child was lost, and I was—' 'He ain't lost!'

'But I was—'

'WANT LIGHT MAMMA!'

'Give him that light, then.' 'But I was…'

'GIVE IT.'

'Manners…' said the Doctor weakly.

I stepped out in front. 'Excuse me,' I said, in a voice I have known to get excellent results. 'Were you planning to join in the funeral pyre ritual later? Because if you weren't, I'd be quite happy to facilitate it.'

' _River_ ,' said the Doctor.

The woman looked at me, sizing me up.

I smiled broadly, and pulled back my coat to give her a quick glimpse of my prison tattoo. (It's temporary: I needed to gain Frodene's trust. Well, I _hope_ it's temporary.)

The woman balked and backed away. 'Well, you can see who wears the trousers with you two,' she spat, marching away. 'Come on, Mure.'

'What's wrong with wearing trousers?' asked the Doctor, puzzled. He said goodbye sweetly to the child, who was being roughly hauled away, great big puddles of bright snot pooling on his upper lip.

'Want light,' the boy hiccupped sadly, looking over his shoulder, as his mother shook him roughly, then jammed some sweets in his mouth.

I wondered. Now? Should I do it now? I couldn't stop thinking about it. This would have been the moment, I know. To ask him. Asking the Doctor for advice on my personal life. Oh lord, I have had better ideas.

The thing is, normally I love making him laugh, when I do things he wouldn't. But I am never truly as brave as I pretend to be, and, actually, I have a theory that he is absolutely the only creature in the universe who is.

Regardless: I couldn't bear the idea of him laughing _at_ me.

I couldn't bear it. After all, with my childhood… imagine, me. The very idea of raising a child.

Absurd. Who would leave a child with someone as dangerous as me? How would I have the faintest idea what to do: I who had known absolutely nothing of parenting. How could I tuck a child into bed?

And what if he thought I was asking him? That would be ridiculous. Completely stupid.

After all, what kind of father would he make anyway? He lives in the moment, only for today.

That's what children do, not what they need. They need utter repetitive boredom, day after day after day, life exactly the same; a great big net of boring: of boring old love and times tables and vegetables. Nothing we could even begin to provide.

But if not now, when? Because I am not getting any younger. Because he is.

Not that I am thinking about that.

'Hey!' I said, as something landed on my hair. 'You looked distracted!'

'That is absolutely no reason to fasten a helmet on me!'

'Chill out, Brunhilde!' the Doctor said. 'Now, there was a girl…' 'You know, Vikings didn't really wear horns on their helmets.' 'Mythic ones did,' he said, marching off, and the moment was gone.

The main square of Asgard™ was heaving; everywhere were half-timbered buildings; a working smithy – huge – where you could get weapons hammered into shape, or jewellery; there were bakeries selling honey cakes, and, obviously mead stalls everywhere. The Doctor couldn't stay still, zooming from one side of the square to another, cheerfully replying 'Hello!' back to grinning people who were clearly just being paid to say hello: it was all the same to him.

'Starting shortly in the Valhalla Amphitheatre: the fearsome Dragon Wars of Thor,' came a booming over the loudspeaker system. The crowds started to move in that direction.

'Ooh,' said the Doctor, looking at me expectantly. 'How can you _possibly_ want to watch a fake animatronic monster show?' I said in disbelief.

'Are you kidding? Somewhere people are screaming at a monster and I don't have to do anything?

Tremendous! Scream away! I shall have my feet up on the seat in front. Unless they tell me not to.'

And he led on, exuberantly. I wouldn't have told him so in a million years, but he rather suited the helmet.

The vast amphitheatre was crowded with people from all over the galaxy. I couldn't work out what the strange thing was I was feeling; then I realised. It was normality. Going to a theme park. For fun. With someone you cared about. Being hideously gouged for mead. I was enjoying all of it.

We were ushered to special VIP seats front and centre.

'VIP sucks!' shouted someone behind us, and we both looked embarrassed and agreed. I looked round. It was the grumpy teenager from before.

One of his triparents was trying to admonish him. I overheard him say, 'Well, if you hate all this stuff so much, you're more than welcome to go and get a job, Tomith.'

'Yeah, and end up like you?' The teenager sniffed and buried his head back in his device, completely ignoring what was taking place in front of him.

Which was a shame, as I have to admit, I have seen some sights, but the Asgard™ dragon show was quite the most spectacular.

First the orchestra played their most stirring music – and if you have never heard 3,000 violins play in harmony, I recommend it – then due to some clever atmospheric tweaking, the sun suddenly set above our heads in a million glowing shades of pink and purple streaking across a golden sky. As

the stars popped out above us, thousands and thousands of tiny candles lit themselves, until the amphitheatre was a glittering fairyland and a collective 'ooo' could be heard from the crowd.

I realised we were holding hands, but we weren't running.

A man brandishing a huge sword ran onto the floor of the amphitheatre, holding up his weapon. He looked tiny down there. Then behind him came more and more and more; as the orchestra beat the drums, an entire army emerged, standards raised, marching in perfect unison to the music; it was oddly stirring, as thousands of them lined up, displaying their marching skills. Then the music changed, and lots of women ran on too, with long plaits and beautiful embroidered garments, and the entire arena erupted into a victory war dance around the campfires which sprang up suddenly.

Then just as we were lulled into the display, a single person, dressed in furs, tore onto the floor. He could have been an interloper, except for his sword, and he shouted loudly about a dragon, a dragon coming this way, whereupon the actors dissolved their dancing and made a huge line; brought out their weapons which all burst into huge lines of flame above their head, and the music changed to something ominous and scary.

There was a long pause and then a great noise, like a huge metal foot striking the ground. 'Oooh!' said the Doctor. 'What's that?'

There was another sound, then another, then another from near the entrance. The crowd of performers shrank back, and so did the audience. And when the burst of flame appeared, everybody jumped. It was immense; we could feel the heat from up in the box.

'Whoa!' said the Doctor.

Then BOOM you could just see, entering the arena, one huge metal claw. The ground shook. Then another, then another; clang clang clang. The Doctor was gripping me in excitement. Then there was a huge cloud of smoke across the arena and when it cleared, the creature was there, at least four storeys high; a genuine metal monstrosity, shaped like a dragon, with huge bright red glowing eyes. It opened its sharp jaws wide to the sky and an enormous roar and a billowing flame erupted.

The beast rampaged around the stadium floor, causing the performers to cower in terror; occasionally approaching a bank of the audience. At one point it reached out a surprisingly delicate claw and lifted a hat off someone, to vast applause.

Then the mood darkened again; the people on stage cowered, and in another puff of smoke, from the entrance appeared a man – a huge man, blond of hair and beard, incredibly over-muscled ( _some_ might say), dressed in chainmail and a loin cloth, with a hammer the size of me, marched into the arena to a huge and overwhelming standing ovation from the audience.

'Why do I never get one of those?' came the voice to my left. 'Sssh,' I said. 'It's just getting interesting. He's very oily.'

'Fierce and mighty dragon!' shouted Thor, amplified throughout the arena. 'Face me in combat!'

The dragon turned round, its red eyes blinking, smoke puffing from its giant nostrils. With a roar it pawed the ground and prepared to charge. Thor stood his ground. It looked a ridiculously uneven fight, as the dragon backed the man into a corner, whereupon Thor struck the weapon with an almighty clank, and harmless green sparks showered the first ten rows. He swung it round with some rather unnecessary pyrotechnics, then whacked it straight into the head of the dragon, which staggered backwards, then regrouped to run at him again. But now Thor was a blur of motion; spinning and hacking; at one stage seemingly cornered, then rolling out from underneath the creature; temporarily losing his sword, but not before he'd hacked off a great sharp-needled toe from the dragon and was fighting him off with his own pointed nail, etc. It was all very stirring stuff; the dragon veered almost but not too dangerously close to the crowd; just at the last minute, the flames wouldn't quite reach, or the claws would draw back, as the audience screamed.

Thor was gearing up for the very last charge; the audience in a frenzy. He had escaped near-death several times now and the crowd was absolutely ready for the kill. He advanced slowly on the puffing, bucking, crazed animatronic beast.

And then something strange happened. The tail of the dragon went over the side of the barrier, and knocked an entire row off their seats. A great screaming broke out. The huge beast wobbled and wavered as if about to topple over, and absolute panic broke out in the stands. We both stayed watching closely, neither of us sure whether or not this was all part of the act; perhaps that section of the audience were stooges, to make the experience more intense for the spectators. Then the Doctor grabbed my arm.

'Look,' he said.

The dragon was now twirling around, its robotic limbs flailing everywhere, and it had inadvertently scooped up a figure from the stands.

It was a child; the same child we'd found earlier, wandering free from its parents. It had clearly been wandering free again, and had got onto a very dangerous path.

The dragon lurched, holding the tiny child – who looked even tinier in its claws – as the audience screamed and gasped.

'Quick…' I said, turning, but of course the Doctor had already gone.

There must have been a control room somewhere, because the dragon lurched to the left and to the right as there was a frantic struggle for control. And as people started to dangerously cram themselves towards the exits in panic, and the actors vanished, I saw a lone lanky figure down on the floor of the amphitheatre, waving his arms.

The beast was a robot of course, it had no independent thought at all, but it responded to movement and noise. I ran down the steps towards the stage and clambered over the barriers. Security had vanished, which was a tad disappointing. Perhaps all that smiling had tired them out.

The Doctor was trying to get close to it, but every time he approached, the dragon would drop its head and make a lunging noise, just as it was programmed to do so with Thor, who was, I noticed disapprovingly, huddled in a side entrance, pressed against the wall, terrified. He'd left his hammer discarded in the middle of the stage.

'I'll distract it!' I shouted, hoping the hammer would have a trigger effect on the robot, which it did. I couldn't lift it, but I could waggle it from side to side. The robot turned its mighty head towards me.

'Give him one of your looks,' came the Doctor's voice as he charged round the back of the great beast and tried to grab it by the tail, which lashed furiously.

The child was screaming, but seemed to be being held quite securely. I didn't have a hope of reaching up there, and wished I still had my trusty lasso. Instead, I glanced around. There were stones on the ground, surrounding the facsimile campfires. I picked them up and tried to figure out where to throw them that wouldn't hit the howling boy. I aimed for the knees, which seemed to work; the creature started to unbalance slightly, leaning, then overreaching.

'Again!' shouted the Doctor.

I let loose and the great tail came crashing down for long enough for him to grab hold of it. He clambered up it, carefully, as I stopped throwing stones – I didn't want the beast to fall with the two of them on it, and instead ran underneath, trying to work out where best to place myself if I had to catch the child.

The Doctor was now hoisting himself up the underside of the creature's tail, so it looked as if he were hanging off a giant branch, and was pulling himself hand over hand.

'Help!' the woman was screaming from the sidelines. 'GET MY BABY!'

I watched the Doctor and the boy anxiously, adrenalin pounding, as the Doctor shouted, 'Right! On my count, River, be ready!'

And with an almighty lunge, he let go with both hands, with only his legs clinging on to the rampaging creature's tail, and hurled himself backwards. The creature lurched, the leg I'd damaged moving up in the air – then, crack, there was the noise of a great switch being flicked, and the huge beast froze.

So did everybody fleeing for the exits. A momentary hush descended. But not for long.

There was an ominous creak. I held my breath. And the great four-storey creature twitched, just a little. And the leg I had whacked with stones started to tremble. It was like watching a tree being cut down.

The great stampede of people turned tail yet again and fled for the exits. We, on the other hand, could do nothing but stand and watch.

I drew a deep breath and stood as tall as I was able. Then I shouted at the child: 'Mure! Mure! Can you jump?'

The kid gazed at me with terrified eyes, shaking his head tightly. 'Jump to me,' I said. 'Come on, sweetie. You can do it.'

He shook his head mutely. The beast's leg trembled again. Inside there was a twisting noise of crunching metal. Something was going terribly wrong in there.

'You have to!' I said. 'Come on, Mure. You have to. Just do it!' He shook his head again.

'Come on!' I shouted desperately. 'Come on! You can do it!'

The little boy edged slightly closer to the edge of the creature's great claws.

'That's right!' I said. 'Come on! I know you're very brave, and I'm going to catch you!' He inched forwards a tiny bit more, and I smiled encouragingly.

'Come on!'

He was ready, his hands going up. Suddenly his mother was by my side.

'MURE!' she screamed. 'GET DOWN HERE! GET DOWN RIGHT NOW!'

This had the opposite effect. The child shrank back into himself straightaway. 'NOW!'

The headshaking had recommenced. I glanced at the beast. Yes, the creaking was getting louder.

The beast was starting to lean further and further over. I held my hands out even higher for the child. 'Mure. Please,' I said. It was such a long drop, and he was such a small child.

' _River!_ Use this!'

The Doctor was sliding down the creature's tail, which had the unavoidable effect of unbalancing the beast completely. As he did so, he hurled his sonic high in the air, and it curled over the dragon's flanks and flew straight towards me.

I caught it in my left hand, and switched it up; the fireworks began to dance lightly from the end. 'Look, Mure!' I said. 'Look!'

And the huge beast began to topple, just as the little boy gazed at the fireworks, and shouted 'Lights!', and the Doctor leapt first, and was there supporting me, just as Mure leapt into my arms, as the robot landed on the arena floor with a crash that shook the earth.

Mure propelled us both back onto his mother, who took more than the brunt of it, but neither of them cared; she grabbed the child and smothered him in a mixture of hard hugs and kisses. The huge robot lay motionless and lifeless, half a section of seats completely squashed beneath it.

'Thank you, River and Doctor, for saving my baby,' said the Doctor pointedly.

'You're very welcome, polite and attentive parent,' I said, dusting myself down. 'You know, I think I'm going to leave it to you to retrieve the screwdriver.'

Outside, there were people screaming and rushing for the exits. We marched through them, looking for the Command Centre. We found it behind another beautiful village square, with its thatched roofs and half-timbered tumbledown houses and picturesque blondes performing an apparently traditional dance which involved quite a lot more exposed flesh that one would expected that far up in a planet's northern hemisphere, but that's a post-Earthly fantasy paradise for you.

If you crept round the back of the town square, though, there was a high thicket of trees, facilities for a variety of biologies; and a very small, unsignposted path. We looked at one another and nodded.

The Command Centre was an unobtrusive grey bunker, without windows, and several control panels on the roof. There was a keypad by the door and as we approached, several dark-suited people marched sharply up towards it and keyed it open, and we simply slunk in behind them.

Inside was a vast space down a flight of stairs; it must have extended underneath the park. Which made sense. Indeed as I looked around the huge underground control centre I saw, amongst myriad screens and working computers – and a big smiling 3D picture of Thor exhorting the staff to 'FIGHT WIN SMILE!' – were long tunnels, careering off everywhere, with little white travel cable pods, moving at remarkable speeds, delivering Vikings, dancers, cleaners, catering staff, who waited for the subway system like oddly dressed commuters, presumably so nobody had to watch Thor queue for the toilet. It was quite a sight.

'Who are you?' said an unfriendly voice. I looked up. The voice belonged to a species I didn't recognise, but looked a bit like a beaver. It was humanoid size though, and stood on two stilt-like legs, it was kind of cross and cute-looking all at once.

'Hullo!' said the Doctor. 'We're on the VIP tour! This bit's great!'

'No you're not,' said the beaver. An outbreak of shouting was taking place over by a bank of monitors. 'Now, clear out, this is a restricted area.'

He folded his tiny paws, not very impressively, although his expression was serious, as was the blaster tucked into the pocket of his frankly adorable beaver overalls.

'Out!'

The commotion got louder.

'Did you see those guys on the screen?' came a voice. A smaller, greyer creature – more mole-like, although with the same augmented limbs – came clattering over. 'They saved a kid in the crowd! We should give them an award or something. Actually, you know what, boss, having an event that almost goes horribly wrong and then comes good at the last minute… that might be an idea you know. Might add a good level of jeopardy to the crowd…'

HIs voice petered out as he took us in standing in front of him. 'And here you are!'

'It's a small world, after all,' said the Doctor. 'Well done, you guys.'

The beaver scowled and reviewed the monitors. 'Was that you?' 'Saved the day!' said the Doctor. 'Where were security, by the way?'

The beaver frowned. 'Helping people towards the exits. Preventing a panic. Exactly what they're meant to be doing.'

The beaver, the mole and I peered round the cavern. People were yelling and dashing around. 'Glad to see there's no more panic… I'm the Doctor, by the way.'

'And I'm the Professor,' I said, smiling politely.

'So. What happened to your dragon?' asked the Doctor.

The beaver sniffed. 'I'm Caius Roose. Park Director,' he said. 'And it's nothing to worry about.

Small mechanical failure. All fixed now.' He glanced at me. 'Are you one of the Brunhildes?' 'Enough of that.'

'Cause you sound just like her.'

The Doctor looked around. 'Are you going to close the park?'

Caius shook his head. 'Naw, just a minor technical issue. No one got hurt.' 'We should close it,' said the mole. 'Double-check everything.'

'I agree,' said the Doctor.

Caius scratched his head. 'We can't,' he said. 'It's our busiest time in the year. We close the park, we lose our profits, then next thing you know word gets out we're dangerous, and before you know it everyone stays away and we're out of business.'

'Maybe that's because you _are_ dangerous,' I said. 'It's one mechanical failure,' muttered Caius again. 'We should still failsafe,' said the mole.

Caius turned on him. 'Postumus Fearne!' he said, exasperated. 'I'm just saying!' said the Mole.

'How many kids you got at home, Postumus?' 'Eleven,' said Postumus fondly.

'Right. And what are they going to eat when they find out Daddy's lost his job?' Caius turned back to us. 'There's 76,000 people work in Asgard™.'

He gestured a paw towards the long lines of people queuing for the subway trains, scooping them away, another tired-looking horde alighting as the cars stopped.

'It's a major source of employment in a very depressed part of the galaxy. And I'm responsible for them.'

'And for them,' said the Doctor, showing the screens that covered all of the park. Everywhere were happy youngsters out strolling with their families; with horned shaped balloons; babies in buggies; people having wonderful days in the sunshine.

'That's right,' said Caius. 'And look: there's no panic. Because everything is fine. And we'll investigate the mechanical fault and then everything can carry on just as it was.'

He looked around.

'I have the finest team in the galaxy, Doctor,' he said. 'Thanks for your help just now, but I'm not shutting this place down and sending them out to starve without a very good reason. Off with you now please. I only ask nicely once.'

Postumus showed us the door. His whiskers looked defeated.

'Postumus… do _you_ think it's just a mechanical failure?' asked the Doctor quietly on the way.

Postumus glanced around. 'That should… it just shouldn't happen,' he said. 'I mean, it's the most sophisticated technology available. Should be unbreakable. I mean, it wouldn't just be an error. It wouldn't.' He fingered the pens in the top pocket of his dungarees. 'It's not how we do things at Asgard™,' he said. 'It just isn't. This is the happiest place in the galaxy.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 'Now, where have I heard that before?'

Postumus accompanied us out the back way, and we emerged into the more sublime landscape of the park at large. We blinked in what was once again bright mid-afternoon sunshine. Above us circled lazy great golden eagles, which could be harnessed and ridden; ahead, grazing in a beautiful, endless elysian fields were the winged white Valkyrie horses, saddled up at night for the spectacular northern lights display that ended each day at the park.

There were signposts to the 'Enchanted Forest' ahead that led to, eventually, the great feasting halls of Valhalla, that supplied mead and sweetmeats at any hour of the day or night.

The Doctor looked back at the small door to the Command Centre, even now fading away between the trees.

'Those subways… they go all round the park, right?' Postumus nodded.

'So if we wanted to get in and have a better look without Caius setting any furry goons on us…'

Postumus looked even more worried. 'Look,' he said. 'He's tough, but he's a good boss, Caius. I wouldn't want to get into trouble or anything.'

'No, no, I realise that,' said the Doctor. 'But you think there's something wrong, don't you?'

Postumus nodded. 'Try under the great feasting halls of Valhalla,' he whispered. 'There's so many caterers and performers coming out of there all hours of the day and night, they'd barely notice you. Especially you…' He pointed at me. 'All you need is the metal breastplate.'

' _I_ _don't_ _look_ _like…_ ' I started, as the Doctor smiled triumphantly, and I gave up. Instead, we set off towards the Enchanted Forest through the once more cheerful throng.

Following the path through the forest was curious. Firstly, no matter how many thousands of people approached the narrow dirt path at the same time, as soon as you entered the trees, everyone was completely dispersed so you couldn't see anyone in front or behind you; you felt completely alone.

Secondly, we entered the forest in early summer, hot yellow sun filtering through bright young green leaves, waterfalls tinkling with snow melt; and timid fawns scampering out of our way as we approached; but as we progressed, the leaves turned a darker and darker green, then began to coil up into themselves; to turn bright shades of yellow, red and orange; then they started to tumble down off the trees, and grouse took off into the sky, and the air became crisper, with the scent of bonfires in the air, and the sun turned mellow and golden and mists coiled along the bottom of the leaf-strewn path, as we kicked our way through them, speaking of what might have gone wrong with the park, and this and that, and he lent me his elbow, and I took it.

Do it, I told myself. Do it now. We were perfectly alone, perfectly peaceful. And the crunching leaves beneath my leather boots had turned, I noticed, to crunching snow, and the air was suddenly twilight and chill, the first flakes, now. swirling down, two snow-geese taking off above our heads, silhouetted against a newly minted moon; and I leaned in closer to him – he never feels the cold.

Just ask him, I told myself. It's not like he's not used to questions.

'Oh, look over there!' he said suddenly, just as I opened my mouth to speak. A gap in the trees had appeared, and I could see the snow-capped mountains of Asgard to the North – floodlit, and filled with gleeful skiers careening downhill, shouting and yelling in excitement.

'I've always wanted to try that. I should think I'd be very good.'

I burst out laughing. 'Don't be daft, your centre of gravity is far too high. You'd look like Crazy Legs the Crane. Anyway,' I continued. 'Look, there's something… something I need to ask you, and I don't even know if it's theoretically possible, and it's not even about you… probably… but if you thought no I need to see how that feels, and if it's yes I'd need to see how that feels, but I just need to ask, just once, and I have no one else to ask and… Do you think one day… I mean… I mean, one time. Do you think we… I… I might… do you think I might ever…'

Then there was a small blip, like I'd blinked a moment too long, and suddenly he was brushing snow off his jacket shoulders.

'Sorry,' he said. 'Lost concentration for a sec. What were you saying?' I dropped his arm and stared at him. 'What did you just do?' 'Nothing.'

Something glinted inside his jacket. I grabbed at it. 'What's this?'

It was a gold medal. Inscribed on it was 'Helsinki, 1952'. I looked at him for a long time.

'So what were you going to ask me?' 'Nothing,' I said. 'Forget it.'

I stomped off through the blizzard.

'Hang on, River!' he shouted after me. 'I can't run, my knees are shot.'

I did not 'hang on' and was almost out of the forest. Already I could see the braziers lighting the way to the palace of Valhalla up ahead, sending their flames high into the night.

And I could hear screaming.

The Palace of Valhalla looked like an optical illusion, because it was. It was tower upon tower, in thick grey granite; it resembled a great cathedral organ. Hundreds of windows were lit with thousands of glittering candles; you could enter any one of the 540 huge wooden doors.

I couldn't figure out where the screaming was coming from. A great smell of roasting meat and mead came towards us. I didn't notice this at first; for I was also dealing with the confirmation of something I knew all along: of course neither of us were remotely fit for parenthood. And I was an idiot even for thinking it, and wouldn't again.

We ran along the frosted path to the bottom of one of the towers. A girl in a metal breastplate lay unconscious on the ground; still breathing. She had the white cloak of one of the Valkyries; she was very young, and heavily made up. Her long wig lay in the snow. I knelt beside her, but as I did so, a troupe of security rushed up with a stretcher and erected a tent around her. 'Move along, please, she's fine, she's fine,' said a large mouse-like creature bossily. 'Just an accident. We do warn people not to run on the battlements.'

In an instant, she was whisked away, into one of the many doors in the walls. 'Another accident, huh?' said the Doctor. 'It does seem very careless, this place.'

We followed through the door through which they'd just disappeared; but we found ourselves in a huge hall, with only one set of doors.

I couldn't see how a stretcher could possibly have just come through here: inside, everyone was partying. The room was obviously an inter-dimensional trick: it contained a great long wooden table that went on for so far, the sightlines converged.

Everywhere along it were different families and groups together, eating, drinking happily, laughing and of course, making great toasts. Every so often there were huge fireplaces, above which meat was turning on spits, covered in herbs. Serving staff refilled goblets from huge, never-ending pitchers of mead.

'Ah,' said the Doctor.

He walked out, then came in again. 'What did you do that for?'

'No,' he said, gloomily. 'I came in a different door. Try it.'

I did so, and found myself exactly where I'd just been standing.

'A dimensional extension,' he said. 'Well, how else would you feed half a million visitors an hour, and make them all feel they're in the same great hall? They'll have gone somewhere else altogether.' He looked round. 'Something's very wrong here. What is it? Let me think.' He lifted a goblet of mead from a passing tray, drank it in one, then made a face.

' _Sip_ stuff if you don't know you're going to like it!' I said crossly. I was about to try one for myself when one of the serving girls came running up to me.

'You're meant to be downstairs!' she hissed. 'The second show's about to start.' The Doctor raised his eyebrows at me.

' _Fine_ ,' I said, as the girl pressed a carved wooden rose inlaid next to the fireplace, and a previously unnoticed door slid open in the wall. I followed her as we descended the steps to the corridors below.

Downstairs, everything was organised chaos. Thousands of identically clad wench-like girls were grabbing plates of hot meat and huge jugs of mead from a vast dispensing fountain – I rather liked that – in a complex but effective pattern.

Everything was hot and shouty, and I wandered into an endless kitchen full of workers of every conceivable stripe, hollering. They barely glanced up at me, and then I found a dressing room full of crying Valkyries, which led to an underground stables, full of pawing horses.

The girls asked me if I was Calinth's replacement and I said yes, and took the breastplate and the sword they gave me – it was a rather fine specimen – then I marched on, until I reached a side door marked 'Security', where I saw an empty stretcher.

'Excuse me,' I said, walking in. 'What's going on?' 'You can't be in here,' shouted someone.

'Really?' I said, fingering the sword. 'Well, tell me what's going on with Calinth and I'll leave quietly.'

A familiar furry figure stepped up, his whiskers twitching slightly.

'No, no, it's all right, Tullus,' he said. 'She's on our side.' He looked around. 'You've disconnected the cameras, right?'

'What's happening?'

Postumus looked crestfallen. 'It's the dimensional calibrator,' he said. 'Now somebody's messing with it.'

'Messing with it how?' I said.

'Well, it's carefully calculated, so everyone gets their Valhalla dining experience, whenever they want it. But someone's started folding the dimensions in. That poor girl was standing in a room that suddenly winked itself out of existence. She fell out of nothing.'

I blinked.

'She's going to be OK, though,' he added. 'And you don't know who would do that?'

The mouse called Tullus looked up. 'We love this place,' he said, and the others snuffled agreement.

'I need the Doctor,' I said.

I'd expected him to be doing what he usually did: making friends with everyone and becoming the centre of attention whilst pretending that sort of thing didn't matter to him.

Instead, he was sitting sulkily on the side by himself, pushing some food around his plate.

In front of the fire, an armoured chap with a huge glittering spear was roaring, 'So Odie, I said. So, Odie, let me tell you a thing or two about the bridge between the worlds. I mean, my bro and I got beef!' and the audience was either falling about laughing or hanging on to his every word.

'What's up with you?' I hissed.

'Well, he looks nothing like me, for starters,' said the Doctor crossly. 'Why would he?' I asked surprised.

'Oh, _no reason_ ,' he said. 'Just, you know. Mythological shapeshifter from ancient Earth history?

Wears many faces? Plays tricks?'

I turned to him. 'That actor is meant to be playing _you_? _You're_ Loki?' 'Credit where credit's due, that's all I'm saying. I was there. And _he's_ a ham.' 'You're a ham,' I pointed out. 'Also he's very good-looking.'

'Do you really think so?' said the Doctor, brightening up.

'Anyway, that's not the point,' I said, and explained that someone had messed with the dimensional calibrator.

He turned ashen immediately and leapt to his feet. 'Is that bad?'

'Bad? It's… River, of course it's bad. It's like pulling a thread… you can't just tinker with a dimensional calibrator…'

And just as he said this, something started to shift. Just a very tiny amount, hardly at all. Blink and you'd miss… suddenly, there were two Lokis. And two tables. The great fire suddenly subdivided into two fires, catching a passing server, whose sleeve caught fire. She screamed.

Then there were more tables, and more, with people crowding out.

'We have to get them out!' shouted the Doctor, beating out the girl. 'It'll start to fold in on itself.'

Terrified staff were running in from secret doors all over the place, trying to get the crowds to muster and leave by the great doors.

I went to the great door. But as it opened I saw it opened not onto the outside, but instead into another great hall, with another Loki and another set of terrified people, trying to leave by another door, and yet another beyond. It had become an endless hall of mirrors.

Worse: the great fire that had caught the serving girl, had now caught the tapestries. The flames were ripping up the walls. Not just in our hall, but in every hall.

'It'll collapse in on itself,' shouted the Doctor, 'and leave nothing but the fire! We have to get these people out of here!'

The fire was licking at the straw roof of the great hall, even as the people were now cowering under the tables.

'Shield maiden,' said the Doctor, looking straight at me.

I looked back at him and nodded, and ran to the door. I pressed the carved wooden rose, and then we were down below, with staff running here and there in panic. We ran straight through the kitchen, where the mead was already beginning to bubble worryingly, and on to the dressing room.

'Sister Valkyries!' I shouted. The girls were cowering in the corner; their horses beyond whinnying and stamping in distress. The dimensional folding was happening here too; the stables went back and back and back.

'Now we go save them!' I shouted, holding up my sword. They looked at me, astounded and terrified.

The Doctor didn't waste a moment, and swung himself onto the back of the nearest horse. I heard him whisper, 'What's your name? Oh, sorry, I forgot you're a robot.'

Then I followed suit. I turned to the girls. 'FOR WE ARE TRUE VALKYRIES,' I hollered at them, 'AND YOU WILL FOLLOW YOUR BRUNHILDE!'

And, astonishingly, they mounted their own horses and followed us.

Then we were off; clattering through the kitchen; bursting through the door into the great hall. The horses knew what they were programmed to do, and in that vast space, they took off, their wings flapping. It was the most astonishing feeling. I glanced over at the Doctor, who grinned back at me; he was enjoying it as much as I was.

We circled the hall, then he broke through the smouldering hay into the starry night beyond and I followed.

Below us the great palace of Valhalla was an endless city now; rooms upon rooms upon rooms; an Escher jumble of the near-infinite.

Except behind us, up flew the other Valkyries through the roof; bold and strong and fearless; and from every other roof in every other iteration flew a line of Valkyries too; and we all banked sharply and flew down, scooping up the people in our own version of the great hall; one by one, or two by two, or in the case of a particularly small family from Junveres, seventeen by seventeen; we lifted them onto the backs of our winged horses, flew them up through the flaming roof under the great white winter moon and set them down gently on the great golden fields of Freyr the harvest goddess, beneath the bright freezing stars.

Just as we rescued the very last of the people from the great hall, the Doctor shouted, and I raised my sword in the air for everyone to stop. There was a vast, teetering silence from the herd of horses in the sky; even the hordes of frightened people in Freyr's fields held their breath.

Then, with a huge creaking noise, one, then another, then another hall folded into itself completely, like a house of cards, one by one by one, until they had all collapsed; folded themselves up and completely disappeared, leaving only the bare ugly network of tunnels and subways of Asgard™ beneath.

The crowd cheered as we set down the last of the rescued and dismounted, but the Doctor had no time; he was scanning the faces.

'Who did this?' he demanded. ' _Who?_ Because people work really hard for their holidays, and you're just… you're just spoiling everything.' He stalked the hordes. 'Have you any idea how much we need a holiday? I'm travelling the universe and she's in PRISON.'

Everyone stared at me and I pretended to be very busy and distracted.

'… and I bet you all have the same thing. Just one day. To get away from your normal routine. To remember how much you love your family. To escape that feeling that everything is collapsing around your feet. And then it collapsed around your feet. And I think somebody here is responsible…'

There was suddenly a bolting figure from the back; a bright flash of blue, taking off towards where the tunnels began.

We turned and ran, chasing it. So did Postumus, who had reappeared, and moved remarkably fast on those long limbs of his.

Beneath the tunnels, everything was dank and utilitarian. We followed some very swift running feet. 'This way!' shouted Postumus, whose ears were pricked up. We followed him, the pathway twisting

and turning and getting deeper.

Suddenly I clanked against something, and I nearly tripped. My leg was caught. 'What's that?' 'Oh, yeah,' puffed Postumus. 'That's the monorail. For the transportation pods.'

'The _what_?' I said. But it was too late. Already, I could see a gleam of light ahead, as one of the little pods was heading straight for us.

'Get into the side, River!' shouted the Doctor. But I had seen something – something just ahead. 'It's blue!' I shouted. 'Get the guy! He's blue!'

I couldn't move my leg. The train was coming closer and closer. It didn't appear to have a driver. 'Go on!' I shouted. 'Get him!'

But the Doctor stopped running and turned back towards me; they both did. And both Postumus and the Doctor instantly gave up their quarry and came towards me and, with an extremely ungracious 1- 2-3 HUMPH, quickly pulled me out of my boots. The Doctor heaved me first and rolled with me to the left side; Postumus made a dive to the right and, to our utter horror, didn't make it in time.

The white pod rolled past and over him, and, just underneath it, we saw one little paw, lying limp on the rail.

We dived back down to the track. Postumus was lying, eyes shut. His legs were horribly mangled. I stroked his very soft fur. Then I looked up.

At the end of the passageway, there stood a tall blue, humanoid shape, outlined in the lights.

I leapt up and pulled out my sword. 'And now,' I shouted, 'I believe you harmed a friend of mine.' I stalked up the tunnel, sword trained on his chest.

As I drew closer, however, I noticed something. The figure wasn't trying to escape or attack. And yes, it was tall: but it wasn't a man. It was an overgrown child; it was the teenager we had noticed earlier; his gadget dangling from his fingers. Also, he was crying.

'I didn't mean it,' he sobbed, his mouth a wobbly line. 'I didn't mean it, but…'

'I've got a pulse!' shouted the Doctor, as I led the boy back down the tunnel at the tip of my sword. 'And I've got a miscreant. Did you just perform mouth to mole?' I said.

'It's not so bad once you get used to it,' said the Doctor, wiping his lips. Postumus's eyes began to flicker.

'What… what happened…?'

I stroked his nose. 'It's all right,' I said. 'You've hurt your legs. But we'll get help.'

He nodded. 'They won't hurt,' he whispered. 'Do you know, they're actually augmented legs.' 'I absolutely hadn't noticed,' I whispered back, and he smiled.

And then, thankfully, the ambulance arrived, and transported us back to the central base.

All the lights were on in the control room, screens showing a rapidly emptying park. Postumus was propped up. Caius was marching up and down in front of the boy, who was apparently called Tomith, and his quivering parents.

'What on earth were you thinking?' he was shouting. For something that looked like a beaver, he was actually quite scary. 'You killed people! You nearly killed my staff! You could have killed everyone in that hall.'

Tomith was staring at the ground, trembling. 'I didn't mean any harm.'

'Oh, you didn't mean any harm,' said Caius. 'You might have destroyed this place for ever, you know that?'

'I was just hacking. Your security systems are so simple.'

The bristles went up on the back of Caius's neck. 'They're the finest on the market today!' 'Well, they're still terrible,' said Tomith. 'But I didn't… I didn't realise that would happen if you

messed with the dimensional calibrator.' 'A little knowledge,' said the Doctor.

'You know the sentencing in this part of the world for hacking?' One of Tomith's triparents burst into tears.

Tomith trembled even harder. 'I'm so so sorry. I've got exams and everything back on Nurfer. I'm really, really sorry, Sir.'

'You'll be even more sorry when you're on Death Row.' The parent now looked close to collapse.

Tears ran down Tomith's face. 'I only wanted to mess with it a bit.' 'Well, you messed with the wrong theme park.'

'How old are you?' said the Doctor.

'Fifteen,' said the boy, or that's what the TARDIS translated for me. The Doctor raised his hands up. 'He's a child, Caius.'

'He's a criminal child.'

'If I were you, I'd give him a job.' 'What?!'

'Sort out your security breaches once and for all. Poacher turned gamekeeper… No offence,' said the Doctor, looking round at the assorted woodland animals. 'Because it seems to me, Caius, you need a new perspective.'

'But he's going to be prosecuted…' 'You have children, Caius?'

Caius shrugged. 'Yeah,' he said.

'And how do you think they're going to feel when their dad loses his job for letting his park be destroyed… _Or_ perhaps it stood up to a major test incident. And learned how to pass it… to make it truly secure.'

'I could do that,' gulped Tomith. 'I could!'

One of the triparents nudged another. 'A job!' they said in astonishment.

The Doctor moved closer to Caius. 'Could you send one of your own children to their death? For breaking the rules?'

'They wouldn't do anything like this.'

'Is there anything they could do, Caius? That could make you send them to their deaths?' There was a long silence in the room.

Then Caius waved his paws in a gesture of dismissal. 'Fine,' he said. 'Postumus, can you handle it?

If I promote you to Head of Security?'

'When I get my new legs, I will,' said Postumus, looking delighted.

Tomith couldn't believe his luck. A parent started singing a Pharax song of profound gratitude that wasn't particularly welcome. And the Doctor gave Tomith a look.

'You channel those enormous brains,' he said severely. 'Don't you dare get in trouble again. Don't you dare let your parents down like that.'

'I won't,' stammered Tomith, in tears of relief now. 'I promise, I won't, Sir. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.'

And he broke down again, and the Doctor ruffled his hair. Oh, and then it hit me like a rock in the guts.

Not that it was any business of mine. But that was what he would be like as a father.

And what do I know? Maybe he does it already. Maybe they're out there and he turns up every morning to breakfast. Maybe he zips back in time and tucks them in every single night, a little millisecond late here or there from some tight spot; different face sometimes; they never mind.

Maybe he's their funny uncle. Maybe they are legion, woven across the sky; or maybe he has peered into every dark corner of the universe and decided he could never be so cruel as to bring an innocent life into it.

Who knows, maybe some of them are mine. Although you'd think he'd have mentioned it.

Outside, there was a small knot of disgruntled park visitors – everyone else had gone home, but they were still there, clamouring for compensation and calling it disgusting. Amongst them was the large

lady, with little Mure, who was sitting on the ground, crying and wailing in utter exhaustion, ignored by his mum, who was shouting about her rights.

'River,' said the Doctor. 'Give me your sword.' 'No,' I said. 'I like it and I want to keep it.' 'Give it to me.'

I grudgingly handed it over, and he took off all but a tiny rounded nub at the end with the sonic.

Then he programmed something into it and handed it back to the child. Now, the blunt-edged sword played its own fireworks. He gave it to Mure, who stopped crying and we headed on back to the gates.

'I'm just saying, I liked that sword,' I said. 'Sssh,' said the Doctor.

We got to the edge of the Rainbow Bridge. Everyone had finally left; we had the entire park to ourselves. The Doctor winked at something that must have been a camera, and suddenly, the night lifted entirely, and suddenly we were in a perfect, golden dawn, in a meadow, next to the empty bridge, wildflowers everywhere and the warm sun on our necks.

'Picnic?'

After we'd eaten, he lay back, sighing in contentment, his head in my lap, and started pointing out the inconsistencies in the sky system. I could have mentioned that he was criticising a replica of a wholly imaginary atmosphere, but I don't think he'd have cared.

Then he stopped in mid-flow and reached up, one of his fingers – they seem, through every iteration, to stay abnormally long; Time Lord fingers are always a dead giveaway – twirling up through the curls in my hair.

'What are you thinking about?' he said. 'You look sad. I hate sad. It makes me itchy.' I looked down at him. 'I know,' I said, and I stroked his cheek. 'It's nothing.'

'But you should still tell me, River-Runs-Deep. Shouldn't you? Should you? Is this one of those things I always get wrong, like flowers are GOOD presents and trees are NOT GOOD presents?

Mystery of the Universe right there.'

'Mystery of the Universe,' I said, breathing out and trying to let go of the idea of that extraordinary thing I yearned for; life that remakes life on and on and on.

That no matter what the science tells you, the fact that something alive can grow inside you, something brand new and unique – even though it is made of the same mix of stardust and honey and hope as everything else that ever lived – is a mystery; that every baby is a piece of magic.

'You don't believe in magic, do you?' I said, and he laughed. 'No!'

I shoved him off then and jumped up. 'Well, that's a shame, because the Great Wiagler is doing a private show for us in five minutes, if you wanted to catch it.'

'Ooh! I do!' he said, scrambling to his feet. We started off in the direction of the beehive meridians. 'Does he shoot fiery breaths across the sky?'

'He shoots fiery breaths across the sky.' 'Does he juggle dragon eggs?'

'Yes, but they're very ethically sourced.'

'Will he let me choose the cards? Because, I have a system, right…'

And we did have fun. It was brilliant. We laughed and ate far too much, and he didn't even moan too much about the food, and we stayed up too late and I danced with Postumus on his new legs at the woodland staff celebration party under the three sickle moons and the Northern lights; and he got me

back last night just before they sounded the alarms, and I lay on my cold stone bunk alone and thought what a fun family day out Asgard™ might make or could have made or was, one day.

They say a psychopath cannot imagine the world any other way but their own. That their version of reality is the only one that matters to them.

They are so wrong about me.

Suspicious Minds Jacqueline Rayner

I first met Elvis in the Seventies. Of course, he was in disguise – no one was supposed to recognise him, that might have caused a riot. But I spotted him easily enough. I could tell at first glance he wasn't just one of the crowd, and it intrigued me. I determined then and there that I'd get him to myself, somehow or other.

I had to wait until the museum was closed for the night, but once the last cleaner had packed up her mop and bucket I simply put down my tray of oranges (oh yes – I'd swapped places with a wax Nell Gwynn; we share a taste for tumbling curls, and boned bodices and scooped necklines have always been my friends), walked over to his section and simply leaned, arms crossed, by a model of Elton John and stared at him.

I'll give Elvis his due, he managed to stare back for over an hour before he blinked. But then I knew I had him.

'What's a nice Auton like you doing in a place like this?' I asked.

'Ah'm just hangin',' he said in a Southern drawl that sounded enticingly exotic in the London of Three-Day Weeks, National Front marches and bombing campaigns by the IRA. Honestly, it was a bleak time to visit. I'd only decided to drop in because I'd heard that no fewer than three separate incarnations of Himself got together round about now and I had a huge desire to have a look at what a car crash that would be. It turned out to be really disappointing, though; most of it happened in an antimatter universe so I missed all that, and Grandpa Grouch (I haven't yet come across one of him I haven't liked the look of, but goodness he seems to have been really grumpy back in the day) barely turned up at all. If it hadn't been for meeting Elvis I'd have considered the whole thing a washout.

We chatted through the night. Well, not just chatting. But the chatting was fun too. He'd been 'just hangin' for a while, since a botched recent Nestene invasion attempt and – small universe alert! – it was only a certain non-medical man of my close acquaintance who'd foiled the aliens' plan! We laughed a lot about that. Most of Elvis's fellow Autons had been deactivated when the Nestene Consciousness left Earth, but somehow he'd managed to retain his sentience, perhaps – and this is just my theory – because he so desperately wanted to. Just that short time on Earth between invasion and thwarting had turned him into a fully fledged humanophile. Unfortunately for him he wasn't one of the really accurate replicas who could pass as human so he'd been forced to stay in the one place where no one would spot him – Madame Tussauds. Originally, as part of the slightly complicated Nestene plan, he'd been some obscure politician, but when that exhibition was closed down he'd tried on various heads until finally settling on Elvis Presley. I think it was the sequins that swayed him. Plus the fact that no one was likely to be melting Elvis down any time soon.

Elvis loved people-watching but he was clearly grateful for slightly more personal interaction, and I'd had a good time too so it wasn't too much of a hardship to agree to pop back and visit him every now and again. Admittedly I only managed it every decade or so, but we made the most of each opportunity. He was pretty much always Elvis, apart from a brief spell in the Eighties when he tried out Jason Donovan, and after the sad events of August 1977 we sometimes even ventured out in public (at night, when his plasticness didn't show as much) as there was no danger of anyone mistaking him for the real King of Rock and Roll. Well, I say that – blurry 'Elvis is alive!' pictures did turn up in the more sensationalist newspapers, but most people assumed they were about as real as the Patterson- Gimlin Bigfoot film. (Not me: I knew Elvis was dead but Bigfoot was definitely real. We'd hung out a few times. Her name was Geraldine and she was really annoyed that the film-makers caught her on a bad hair day.)

Elvis and I painted the town red a couple of times in the Eighties and Nineties and all was going swimmingly until one day in the mid 2000s. I'd entered the museum with a party of Bulgarian tourists

and given the King a little wave as we passed by so he'd know tonight was the night, then I'd slipped into the farthingale and ruff of Good Queen Bess (I was gradually working my way through the curly-haired of history) to wait for closing time.

And then _he_ turned up. Fez and bow tie and tweed jacket. (Some of the visitors thought he was an interactive exhibit; I overheard them trying to work out who he was meant to be.) Well, I couldn't resist. I waited until he was within touching distance then I leaned forward and whispered, 'Hello, Sweetie.'

He jumped a mile then tried to pretend he hadn't, a great bundle of long arms and legs like a startled flamingo. Then he looked at me and wagged a bony finger in my face. 'Oh no no no. No no no. That is not on.'

'What isn't?' I asked, giving a twirl (the Bulgarian tourists started applauding).

'Wife dressing up as previous wife. That's just…' He started to grin, so I gave him a hard stare. 'Is this guy bothering you?' Oh dear. That was Elvis, swaggering over to us. The Bulgarians

applauded again. The Doctor looked him up and down then whipped out his sonic. 'River, run!'

'What, in these skirts?'

'It's an Auton! I'll hold it off while you… shuffle slowly away.'

I rolled my eyes and put a hand on Elvis's arm. 'Doctor, Elvis the Auton, Elvis the Auton, Doctor.

All friends here.'

The Doctor looked scandalised. 'Friends? With a plastic-brained drudge of the Nestene Consciousness?'

'Who are you callin' plastic-brained?'

I put a hand on each's chest and pushed them apart before fists could be raised. 'Boys, boys. This isn't the time or the place.' (I didn't have a more appropriate time or place in mind, I just felt like doing my 'teacher' voice.) 'Doctor, what are you doing here?'

He looked sheepish and began to fiddle with his bow tie. No answer was forthcoming, but I could read his face like a book. I tried not to grin but I just couldn't help it; I could feel a big smile spreading across my face. 'This is another of your ways of keeping score, isn't it? You pop in, check out who're the current crop of celebrities then engineer meetings with those you haven't come across before so you'll be able to sprinkle their names in conversation. Madame Tussauds is basically your personal namedropping checklist.'

More bow tie fiddling.

'Elvis, what are the latest models?'

The Auton thought for a few seconds. 'Few months ago we got Posh and Becks – oh, and the Andrex puppy.'

'There you go, Doctor. You'd better go and look up the Andrex puppy. Take it for walkies.

Everyone will be so impressed.'

'Better the Andrex puppy than a… a… _hound_ _dog_.' 'Don't be cruel,' I told him. 'Elvis was just a lonely man.' 'He's the Devil in disguise!'

'You have such a suspicious mind.'

'And you're a hard-headed women with a wooden heart who's got me all shook up!'

I sighed. 'Any minute now you're going to accuse me of stepping on your blue suede shoes. Look, this is all great fun, but maybe we should talk about it somewhere less public…?'

The Bulgarian tourists were entranced by our performance. As we shuffled out of the gallery, a couple came forward to press ten-leva notes into our hands. One man even tried to shove a fistful of

notes down my bodice, which the Doctor retrieved and gave back to him with an icy 'return to sender'.

We found a quiet spot in the Chamber of Horrors, and I dragged the Doctor into a gaol cell (admittedly, that felt a bit close to home) while Elvis perched on a guillotine a little way away.

'Look, Elvis is a good guy. You'd like him if you got to know him.'

'How many times has that sentence been said in the history of the universe?' I shrugged. 'Doesn't mean it isn't true.'

'River, listen to me. Stay away from him.'

Well, that didn't go down very well. How long has he known me? (That's not a rhetorical question, by the way. We haven't established where this encounter fits in our timelines yet.) However long it is, though, he surely knew within minutes of our first meeting that he has no say in who I associate with. Even if he thinks he's acting for my own good.

Hang on, though. There was a clue to how long he'd known me. 'You called me your wife!' I said.

His eyes went wide. (I love his eyes. Green, the colour of mystery. They're youthful and ancient at the same time, and oh, I could look into them for hours. Days. Decades.) 'Am I, er, being a bit presumptuous…? And, er, totally unrelated, do you happen to have your diary on you…?'

I chuckled. 'It's all right, I think we're on the same page. I just meant, you called me your wife. So, for you – as well as for me – that's already happened.'

He visibly relaxed.

I continued. 'And that being so, it also means that you are well aware that there can be "good" Autons. My father, for example.'

'Are you supposed to be able to remember that?' he asked.

'I'm not sure if I'm _supposed_ to,' I said with a shrug. 'But I do. And you're ignoring my point.' 'River,' he said. 'Listen carefully to me.'

'Oh, I thought I'd just tune in for one word in three,' I said, smiling but inwardly slightly irritated. I always listen carefully to him. Always. Might not agree with what I'm listening to, might not act on it, but he will never not have my full attention.

'I'm not trying to patronise you,' he said. 'I'm not playing the jealous husband. But I know something that you probably don't know. In a few weeks' time, the Nestenes will launch another invasion attempt. I can't do anything about that, because I've already done something about it, and I get very annoyed with myself if I try to interfere with what I'm doing.'

'So?'

'So, your buddy Elvis here is going to find himself dragged back into the fold. Oh, he might have been able to ride out a minor invasion or two in the past, ones where the Nestenes didn't get that far, but not this one. This is a biggie. He won't be able to keep his autonomy, no joke intended, no really, River, take that look off your face. He'll become a danger to you. Rory – he was a different story. He had a very strong personality to build on in the first place, and he had a powerful motivation. The rules didn't apply to him. But they will to Mr Jailhouse Rock.'

And it would be like a death. Elvis would have left the building. 'I'll have to tell him,' I said, saddened.

So there, in the chamber of horrors, surrounded by instruments of torture and the images of death- bringers, I explained to Elvis that his life would soon be over.

A plastic face doesn't really show emotions. Or so I'd thought until now.

'Yeah, I kinda guessed that would happen some day,' he said. 'My old buddies the Nestenes think this planet is a mighty fine place. I just thought I'd keep on hiding just like I been doin'.'

'I don't think you'll be able to,' said the Doctor, kindly now. 'I'm sorry.'

'There is one thing…' I looked from the Doctor to Elvis and back again. 'We could…' I held the Doctor's gaze. 'Couldn't we?'

He didn't have to ask what I was trying to say. 'I… could. If it means that much to you.'

Elvis doesn't share our gift of matrimonial telepathy, though. And he did have a plastic brain. He still looked clueless.

'The Doctor can take you away from here,' I explained. 'Keep you out of range.'

My Auton friend shook his head. 'Nu-huh,' he said. 'Thank you kindly, but this is my home. This time, this place, this planet.'

'I could bring you back, after the invasion's over,' said the Doctor.

'And then I just sit here waiting for the next time? No.' He pulled himself up to Elvis's full six feet. 'I won't leave – but I won't turn into a killing machine again. Tell me the date they arrive, Doctor. I'll deactivate myself before then.'

'You can't—' I began.

He chose to take me literally. 'I can. There's a big ol' furnace down in the basement.' I shuddered, imagining those well-loved features melting away.

'You have fourteen days,' said the Doctor. I could see he was itching to get away from here. Oh, big dramatic scenes don't bother him, but little dramas like this make him very uncomfortable. A huge passionate speech on the fate of the universe? Fine. The look on the face of a creature that's going to melt itself down in a fortnight? Awkward. But I wasn't going to leave it like this.

'One last hurrah,' I suggested. 'See the world before… well. Before. Is there somewhere you'd like to go?'

There were several answers he might have given that wouldn't have surprised me at all. Graceland, obviously. (Viva) Las Vegas. (Blue) Hawaii. Maybe even the bright lights of Blackpool. But no. I was slightly bemused to hear him ask, 'You heard of the meadows?'

'Any meadows in particular?' said the Doctor. 'The Candle Meadows of Karass Don Slava?

Grantchester Meadows? The Meadows Shopping Centre, Chelmsford?'

Elvis shook his head. 'No, sir. I guess they're just called "the meadows". Heard some visitors talking about them. Most beautiful place on Earth they said, only they said it was pretty exclusive. I sure would like to see the most beautiful place on Earth, although I guess – well, that might not be possible. Bit too difficult, seeing as I don't even know where they are.'

Well, hinting that something might not be possible or is too difficult is the surest way I know of getting the Doctor to want to give it a go. He hurried out of the room, apologising to a wax model of George Joseph Smith that he bumped into on the way, and returned within minutes to announce that he'd located it, found out what it was, and – ta da! – had got us all visiting permits.

I took the passes he held out. 'Dr John Smith, Dr River Smith and Dr Elvis Smith of the International Dung Beetle Alliance?'

'Er, yes.'

' _Dung Beetle_ Alliance?'

'Don't you go knocking the dung beetle. I'll have you know that _Onthophagus_ _taurus_ can pull 1,141 times its own bodyweight.'

That wasn't really an explanation. As I pointed out.

'Well. This meadows place is all about insects, so I thought if I made us all about insects they'd be more likely to let us in. Our coprophagiac friends happened to be the first ones that sprang to mind. Here, have a pamphlet.'

I took the pamphlet. I read the pamphlet. The Doctor was right, it was all about insects. In fact, it was close to a rant about insects. About their importance, and their decline, and how man was a wicked, wicked species to allow it to happen. I felt quite guilty on behalf of the whole of humankind

after reading it, and tried to work out how many times in my life I'd swatted a fly. Too many for comfort, I think. But I agreed to take a trip to this insect paradise with my boys.

Even having visited them, I still don't know exactly where the meadows are. Somewhere in the Mediterranean, I'd say, from the colour of the sky – oh, hark at me. I'm starting to sound like a certain Mr 'just dip a finger in the water and lick it and pretend you can tell exact latitude and longitude by its salt content' (and I know for a fact that he only pulls that stunt when he's just had a sneaky look at some TARDIS monitor or other).

But anyway, we arrived at wherever it was, and the sun shone, and the sky was clear, and the air was sweet, and the whole place was surrounded by a force barrier. That was rather a surprise, as it seemed a bit advanced for this time period. I suggested this might indicate alien involvement so we'd better tread carefully, but the Doctor assured me (correctly, as it turned out) that the technology was available on Earth at this time, for those with the money, the contacts and the necessary obsession. It was quite clear from the moment we met Melissa that she had the latter in spades.

Melissa Tokana was short and blonde, and it was hard to tell her age. Not that that's particularly suspicious. I mean, look at the three of us. I'm not entirely sure how old I am, for a start. Then there's the Doctor, who's 1,000-plus and looks barely a day over 30, and Elvis, who looks – and is – 30-ish, but has done so since he was about a week old.

Melissa met us – and the other visitors, ones who'd arrived by more conventional means than Gallifreyan time ship – in person, and welcomed us to her world.

'Why the force field?' I asked her. 'To stop the flies flying off?'

'Indeed,' she said – to my surprise, as I was being slightly facetious; obviously I'd assumed it was to keep unwelcome visitors out. 'What use would it be to nurture them here then allow them into a world that is slowly destroying their kind?'

'So the purpose of this place is just conservation?' I said. 'You're not trying to change the world?' 'Oh, but I am. And when man wakes up to the damage being done to the Earth, my insects and I will

be here. Ready.'

Yeah, good luck with that. I'm from the fifty-first century, and I can tell you humankind's never going to wake up to the damage it's doing. It just does it, says 'Oops!', then does it again.

We were taken through the force field into a building that resembled a beehive, a honeycombed structure that disoriented you immediately. Doors led off in all directions, and although many of the partitions were made of glass, the refraction of sunlight and the warped views through created a maze effect, a hall of mirrors that left you not quite knowing if you were going up, down or sideways.

Melissa led us into a hexagonal room that had several aspects to the outside, but all I could make out for sure was that everywhere outside was just… green. Endless greenery isn't entirely my cup of tea, but we were doing this for Elvis, not me – and anyway, it would probably be more appealing when seen in full rather than glimpsed through a distorting lens.

It didn't look like we were going to get to the great outdoors for a while, though. Apparently we first had to listen to a talk on being nice to gnats – or something like that – before Melissa decided we were worthy of viewing her precious meadows. I suppose I couldn't really blame her. This was her life's work, a haven for insects, a painstaking recreation of the ideal ecosystem for many species to flourish. She didn't want tourists trampling all over the place. (She was very unimpressed that the Doctor had brought a picnic hamper. He tried to hide it behind his back but she confiscated it anyway.) Resigned to our fate, we sat down to hear her pre-visit talk.

Melissa stood before us, her eyes glittering, and addressed the universe via the couple of dozen humans assembled in front of her. 'The insect. So small, so insignificant. Who would notice if the world had no more insects?'

It was obviously a rhetorical question, but the Doctor put up his hand anyway. 'I would!'

Melissa looked slightly surprised to have audience participation this soon into her talk, but gave him a pleased smile. 'Yes indeed. Insects may be tiny but their importance is enormous, in so many different areas.'

The Doctor put up his hand again. 'Ooh ooh ooh!' Her smile was not quite so pleased this time. 'Yes?'

'For example, pollination.' The Doctor beamed at everyone around him. He does like being the star pupil.

She nodded. 'Pollination. Insects are essential for the pollination not only of decorative plants but of fruits and vegetables – a food source for both humans and animals.'

'Humans are animals,' the Doctor interjected, without putting his hand up.

It was just an aside. Of course, I knew he was referring to their taxonomical classification rather than being rude, but it's more fun pretending to take offence. 'Human wife sitting right next to you!' I pointed out.

'And would you deny, River, that you can sometimes be a bit of an animal?'

Ah, compliments will get you anywhere. I shot him a smile. Melissa, less impressed, waited impatiently for us to stop interrupting.

'Of course, insects themselves are also part of the food chain, an important source of food for many creatures – birds, reptiles, mammals and more – which are themselves part of the food chain for others. So without insects, both plant- and meat-eaters would find themselves going hungry. But the insects' role in food production goes even deeper than that.'

I could see resignation in her eyes as the Doctor put up his hand for a third time. She really hadn't intended this to be an interactive session.

'Yes?' said Melissa.

'Soil,' said the Doctor smugly.

'Yes. Soil. Would you like to elaborate?' The words came out between gritted teeth. But then the Doctor would try the patience even of teachers used to dealing with hyperactive 5-year-olds.

'Oh, no no no. You're the expert.' 'Thank you. Well—'

'And I'm sure you're going to talk about their role in aerating soil as well as in digesting animal dung.'

'I _was_ , yes.'

'Good good good.' The Doctor sat back and folded his arms expectantly.

'Insects aerate the soil,' said Melissa. 'They also break up and digest animal dung.' She sighed. I could see the Doctor beginning to sit up again, and so could she because she started talking quickly. 'It's not just animal dung that they dispose of. Without them, the planet would drown under the weight of rotted matter, animal and vegetable. The slug, for example, is an essential tool in waste management, consuming rotting flesh and vegetation.'

'And my lettuces!' called out a gentleman from the audience. The woman sitting next to him giggled.

Melissa did not look amused. 'Insects are essential for life, and essential to deal with death,' she continued.

'And slug pellets are essential if you want to keep your cabbages!' said the same man.

The lecture dragged on. I had plastered a look of polite interest on my face but it threatened to slip every now and again as Melissa continued listing the many, many wonderful things about insects and humanity's terrible, terrible effect on their populations. One of the problems with fanatics is that their very passion can get your back up. I'd gone into the talk thinking that humanity really should take

more care of its various six-legged, three-segmented little buddies, but after what felt like hours of Melissa's diatribe I was on the verge of indulging in a little light destruction of natural habitats with a side order of pesticides myself.

But not everyone was as fed up as me. I'd been looking between Melissa (ordinary human politeness) and the Doctor (fascination at what he might do next), and hadn't really spared a thought for Elvis the Auton (although I had noted earlier that everyone else was trying not to stare at him. You don't often come across walking, talking plastic Elvis replicas in day-to-day life). But now I heard a sort of sigh of admiration (impressive as he doesn't actually breathe; I happen to know he'd spent 1979 to 1980 perfecting human vocal mannerisms). I turned to him and saw a visionary look in his solid plastic eyes. He was buying every syllable she uttered.

'Ma'am,' he said. 'If I'm understanding you right, you're sayin' that humanity couldn't survive without insects?'

'That's it in a nutshell, Dr Smith. And yet everything needed for insect life is being taken away.

Forests cut down, hedgerows destroyed. Bogs drained. Roads and houses built on irreplaceable insect habitats.'

A woman in oversized sunglasses leant forward. 'I wonder if you're not being a little bit naïve,' she said. 'No offence meant.'

Well, offence had clearly been taken, as I could see from Melissa's expression. But the woman ignored it and carried on anyway.

'Progress has got to be made. I understand exactly what you're saying, and I'm all for preservation of wildlife. But I'm also for housing, road-building and high agricultural yield. I think a compromise is possible.'

I didn't think that Melissa was the sort of person who compromised.

The sunglasses woman waved a hand and smiled. 'What you're doing here is great. But in the end it's not going to change the world. It's just an insect zoo.'

'No! She's saving mankind!' Well, that was a surprise. Elvis had jumped to his feet, a devoted new disciple if ever I saw one. 'Don't you understand? Humans can't live without insects. In saving these insects here, this gal is saving the human race! Saving humans from themselves! Giving them back the home that man has taken away.'

Oh, Melissa liked that. She beamed at Elvis. 'Yes! My meadows are a recreation of the perfect ecosystem for many important species. Out there you will find varieties of butterflies and moths, grasshoppers and crickets, dragonflies and damsel flies – bees, of course – glow-worms, beetles… It would take me hours to list them all.'

I took a deep breath. It didn't seem impossible that she would decide to do that. What's another hour or two listing insect species among friends? To my relief, though, she didn't.

I'd probably been aware of the buzzing noise for a while before I consciously realised it was there.

Barely audible, really, and my brain had been off on its own trying to distract itself from Melissa's rant. Even when I had noticed the sound, I didn't think a lot of it. Wasps don't bother me (I once spent a lovely weekend with a Vespiform called Roderick) and we were, after all, basically on the doorstep of an Insect Shangri-La. Having the creature buzzing around the room was a tiny bit irritating, but so what?

And then a man swatted it. A real, full-on _whack_ with a book. No possible escape. Insect pancake.

Well, Melissa didn't say anything, but her eyebrows jumped to the sky. If she'd had a giant-size book on her, I wouldn't have been at all surprised if the wasp-splatter got splatted in turn. I was tensed, ready for action.

But nothing happened. Melissa's face returned to normal, and I relaxed. Well, maybe I kept myself very slightly on alert (my suspicious mind at work again). That would be why I noticed what I noticed

later on.

The talk finally neared its end. I was feeling very sorry for Elvis. Only fourteen days to live, and he'd had to use a few of his precious final hours (OK, actually minutes; it just felt like hours) listening to a small fierce human lecture us about woodlice. But he didn't seem to think it had been a waste. In fact, when Melissa came to her impassioned conclusion – 'Do you agree? Do you agree that insect life must be preserved at any cost?!' – Elvis jumped to his feet and whooped 'Hallelujah! The insects must live, for the glory of the human race!' (The Doctor and I – and most of the other audience members – opted for slightly more low-key agreements.)

Well, after that, we were finally deemed worthy of entry into the meadows. We were divided into small groups of three or four to be sent off in different directions, with a request not to stray from our allotted segment. Melissa very plausibly explained that too many people in one place could prove dangerous to the fragile ecosystems she'd so painstakingly encouraged. Yes, that was very plausible. Not suspicious at all. Except I happened to notice that one of her groups consisted of the man who wasn't keen on slugs, the woman with him (his wife?) who'd laughed at his remarks, the man who'd killed the wasp, and the woman in sunglasses who was keen on roads and houses and crops. I casually wandered nearer as Melissa spoke with them.

'Now then, you'll have gathered I'm a bit of a gardener,' said the slug man – short, red-faced, big moustache – 'and it amazes me how well these meadows of yours grow, just left to themselves.'

'Oh, they're not left entirely to themselves,' said Melissa. 'There's the 206.' 'And what's that?' asked the man. 'A planting protocol?'

'A fertiliser,' she replied. 'Possibly the best fertiliser there is.'

The red-faced man's eyes lit up. 'Now I am very interested in fertilisers,' he said. 'I'm guessing you go for the organic types. What is this 206? Compost? Manure? Blood or bone meal?'

'It's my own very special blend,' said Melissa.

'And you couldn't give a fellow gardener a clue about your secret recipe?'

'Well, perhaps,' said Melissa. 'Perhaps I could give you a hint. As you're a fellow gardener.'

I was watching her face. She was smiling, there was no hint of the – well, annoyance was probably too mild a word – that had crossed her features after the unfortunate wasp-splatting incident. But there was something in her expression… something familiar… something worrying.

It was on the tip of my mind, but I couldn't reach it.

'River!' The Doctor was calling me. He'd been restless throughout the talk, now he couldn't wait to be on the move again. I put the mystery of Melissa's expression out of my mind as I rejoined the Doctor and Elvis – our own little group – and waited to be allowed out.

Melissa went around letting the groups out one at a time. We didn't just walk out of a door into the meadows, we made our disorientated way through more honeycomb passages until an exit opened before us. I looked around as we went out, hoping to see where the slug and sunglasses group had got to, but there were no other humans in sight.

To be honest, I was so overwhelmed by what greeted us that the other groups faded from my mind almost at once. Did I say that green wasn't really my scene? Well, maybe not, but 'green' was only a description of this kaleidoscope of varying shades in the same way that 'a bunch of notes' is a description of Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony. And it wasn't as if green was all there was, either. The plains ahead had rainbows sprinkled through them. Red poppies to orange hawkweed, yellow cowslip, green nettles with tiny white flowers, the brilliant blue of cornflowers blending into indigo vetch and pretty violet scabious. It felt so peaceful that you assumed it was quiet too, until you concentrated and realised that there was a constant underlying hum of a million insects. The chirrup of crickets, the friendly buzz of bees. Grasses high enough to tickle my chin; little woven nests in the

grass with tiny brown mouse noses poking out. Birds swooping, perching, whistling. Rabbits skittered by, unafraid, and a grass snake slid over Elvis's shoe, to his utter delight.

And so many perfumes, so many different scents weaved together to create such sweetness. If it could be bottled it'd be worth a fortune. _'Meadows' by Calvin Klein._

Elvis had chosen well. This was a place that would bring peace and tranquillity to his final days. We walked on together, the three of us, not speaking, deeper and deeper into the wilderness, our senses overwhelmed by the beauty around us, wishing there were more places like this in the world. Oh, humanity. Was there ever a gift given to you that you did not break? I am one of you but I am also a child of time and I have witnessed so much. Knowing myself as I do, I don't presume to lecture you on war or hatred, but I wish you'd take more care of the little things: the birds and the bees and the flowers. Beauty is precious.

Oh, and as Melissa pointed out, also incredible necessary for, you know, the continuation of life on Earth.

Such a short time in these meadows and I was already a convert. Suddenly all that humourless ranting seemed fully justified. I understood why Melissa and that woman who preferred roads to grasshoppers could never be friends.

I like to dress appropriately for my surroundings and I'd changed earlier in the TARDIS; now I did my best impression of a romantic heroine as I walked barefoot through the grass, white skirts swishing around my ankles. I knew that both my romantic heroes were looking on in appreciation, but I wasn't doing it for them. I unpinned the visitor 's pass from my chest; it didn't go with the look. 'Dr River Smith', indeed.

And then I froze.

 _Smith._

The wasp-killer, the woman who liked houses. The man who used slug pellets. I suddenly knew where I'd seen Melissa's expression before, that queer triumphant smile. That was the expression worn by the waxwork of George Joseph Smith, the one the Doctor had tripped over back in Madame Tussauds Chamber of Horrors. Smith, the man who persuaded his wives to insure their lives and make wills in his favour and then drowned them in their baths. Yes, I was sure of it. His arrogant smile – the one that said, 'You are encompassing your own destruction at my command' – had been reproduced line for line on Melissa's face. My previous suspicions jumped to the forefront of my mind again.

The Doctor had found a spot where the grass was short and soft, and was sitting cross-legged on the ground, blowing at a dandelion clock. 'Three o'clock!' he announced. 'Time for a picnic.'

'I thought Melissa confiscated your picnic,' I said.

He produced a rather squashed jam sandwich from his pocket, followed by a thermos flask that couldn't possibly have fitted in there. 'Ah, she may have confiscated my picnic _hamper_ , but I managed to liberate some of the picnic itself. Sandwich? Fizzy pop?'

I politely declined. I know what else he keeps in his pockets.

Now, the Doctor has a finely tuned evil-detector located slap bang in the centre of his very big brain. If he hadn't sensed anything 'off' about Melissa, then there wasn't likely to be anything to sense. And he looked so happy sprawled on the grass in this perfect place. Elvis did too. I didn't want to ruin that, for either of them, but especially for the one who was going to die soon. The trouble was, that brides-in-the-bath expression was haunting me.

'I'm going to walk a bit further,' I said. 'Build up an appetite.'

The Doctor tossed across his sonic. 'Setting 674 alpha 2,' he said. 'Compass.'

That wasn't a bad idea. I have a wonderful sense of direction, but this place was vast and wild. I tucked it into my waistband.

I thought back to the way we'd come and tried to calculate the direction I'd need to walk in to intercept the next party. I turned and headed that way. But I was in for a shock – literally. I'd walked maybe half a mile when I slammed into an invisible wall, electricity juddering through me. There, right in the middle of the meadows, was another force field.

Well, that hadn't been mentioned. Perhaps it was just a way of keeping us from straying too far. Or perhaps it was something more sinister.

I walked first one way then the other in an attempt to see how far the barrier stretched, but there was no end in sight. I was half tempted to just go back to the Doctor and Elvis, ridiculing my own silly suspicions, but I'm stubborn and I wanted to know what was going on. And I had a sonic screwdriver with me! Didn't take me long to figure out how to disable the barrier.

'Hello?' I called as I walked on, but no one replied. I kept going.

As I wandered I found that the perfume of the flowers and the buzzing of the insects became almost hypnotic, each of my senses soothed in turn.

My life – well, my life hasn't known much calm, and that's the way I like it. Being thrown from one death-defying escapade to the next is what keeps me going. Oh, occasionally I've dabbled in deliberately peaceful activities like yoga (being able to put your legs behind your head helps in so many areas of life), meditation or those adult colouring books that bizarrely became a craze in AD 2015, but I prefer action. It stops me from thinking. Thinking about what I've done, or what I am. Or what I wish would turn out differently but know it never can.

The peace here was so engrossing though that it kept even the smallest melancholy thought at bay.

Perhaps I had found the one place in the universe where I could be truly content. Finding the other people didn't seem important any more. I'd been over-reacting. Nothing bad could happen in a place like this.

I sank to the ground and began to make a chain of ox-eye daisies. When I'd linked enough I turned it into a circlet for my hair; a more perfect crown than any of Queen Elizabeth's rubies or pearls.

Thinking of my conjugal predecessor made me think of the Doctor. Oh, who am I trying to fool? _Everything_ makes me think of the Doctor. I'm not exactly jealous he had a life before me – or after me – or during me (time travel is so complicated) – and my life has hardly been a wilderness outside of him. But I'm sometimes scared at how much of my well-being is tied up with that man. He hovers above my consciousness continually. He'd be horrified if he knew that – but then, I think he does know, really.

I should have known things were wrong when I first began to forget about him.

Not in a crack-in-the-universe way, not like he was wiped from my mind, but like he didn't matter any more. The Doctor not mattering to me was something I'd never experienced before.

And yet I didn't care.

I could feel him draining from my mind, and I had no desire to hold on, to make a grab for him, to pull him back to me.

Without the Doctor, maybe I could at last welcome peace.

I trailed my hands through the flowers, disturbing a jewel-like dragonfly. The scent of apples wafted up from a clump of camomile, and pollen speckled my skin. My daisy circlet tumbled from my hair as I lay my head on a pillow of cowslips and ragged robin.

So much calm.

So much contentment. So much peace.

NO!

I struggled, just for a moment. I wouldn't let the Doctor slip from my mind entirely. Oh, maybe I could never welcome peace while he was a part of me. But I knew for certain I would never welcome

peace without him.

I reached out, flailing like a baby, grasping desperately for him. He would always be there to catch me as I fall…

My fingers clasped his hand and I was filled with relief. Except…

His fingers were bony, but not _that_ bony.

I fought harder against the all-consuming calm, desperately struggling to reach the surface again. I whispered his name under my breath, over and over, a mantra to keep me afloat. I hadn't realised my eyes were shut until I discovered how hard it was to open them. It would be so easy just to give in…

Just sleep. Just peace. For ever.

My eyes snapped open. I stared at the thing I was holding. A hand of bone in my hand of flesh. More bones leading away from it, still attached, arm bones that folded in on themselves, clattering to the ground as I hurriedly let go of the hand.

Still desperately trying not to give in to sleep – a rest that I now realised would be eternal – I crawled through the long grass. As it parted with my progress I came on more bones – not scattered ones, not random, as with the first these still had scraps of leathery sinew holding them together.

Once-human forms. Some gleaming white, some still shrouded in black masses of beetles and other insects.

Perhaps I should have tried to get back to the Doctor and Elvis, but I was hardly thinking clearly. My head was swimming but I forced myself onwards, because I knew now the fate that was awaiting those four people who hadn't shared Melissa's dream of an insect-filled world.

My white skirts became green with grass stains as I forced myself to keep going. Standing up was beyond me still, and sometimes I could see where I was going and sometimes, if the grass was too high, I could not. On and on. Hand and knee forward, hand and knee forward, keep to the rhythm and you can do it. I was sleepwalking – no, sleepcrawling – but I was still in control. Just.

I found the woman in sunglasses first. One arm of the sunglasses was still over an ear, the other bent wildly out of shape, perhaps twisted as she lay down. I couldn't tell if she was still breathing; I bent my head down to listen and the heaviness and weariness overtook me again. I lay by her side, close, just about feeling the tiniest rise and fall of her chest. She was alive, but I couldn't move. I didn't want to. The peace had pulled me back in and added something new: I was a child clutched to the bosom of her mother, hearing a mother's gentle breathing, a sound that said 'I will protect you always. I will keep you safe. You just have to stay with me.'

Oh, how deeply I felt that right then! But the thing is, I also knew it was a lie. I'd never been that child. My mother had never clasped me to her. Oh, she'd wanted to, I know that, this wasn't about blame or even about pity for myself. It was just about reality. And reality gave me a crutch to lean on.

I pushed the peace out of my mind and replaced it with anger. Anger at being taken from my parents. Anger at the life stolen from me. Anger at the people who'd made me what I am. (I'd like to say 'what I was'. But I can never be entirely sure.) Anger at a universe that allowed this to happen.

Perhaps, even, anger at the Doctor, because loving him might make life so much better, but it made it oh, so much harder too.

Sustained by anger, I managed to get to my feet. I stumbled forwards and found the other three. All unconscious, all barely alive. I wanted to help, but how?

The air was heavier here. The sweet scent I'd noted earlier had transformed into something sickly and cloying. Every time I breathed in, a wave of drowsiness hit me. It was something in the air that was causing this soporific state. I tried, fruitlessly, to drag the unconscious bodies away, but the air

was sapping my strength and the more I tried, the more sleep threatened to overwhelm me again. I had to leave them behind to fetch help.

What I needed was someone who didn't breathe. And by a stroke of luck, I knew exactly where I could find such a person.

Well, almost exactly. I staggered round in circles for a few minutes, before remembering why the Doctor had given me the sonic screwdriver in the first place. In my dazed and confused state, I don't think I'd have made it back to them without it.

There were more bones underfoot on the way back. I'm not the sentimental type, but perhaps it was the dreamlike state I couldn't quite escape from that made me imagine how they'd once looked clothed in flesh. Those bones had worn faces that smiled and frowned, faces that had meant so much to parents, children, lovers. Time, and death, and Melissa, had stolen those faces from them.

After a while, there were no more bones. I was back in my original segment of the meadows. The sickening scent still hung in the air but it was lighter now and I found it easier to walk. I was even able to summon the energy to call out. 'Doctor! Doctor!'

No one called back, but then I saw Elvis, in the distance, waving at me. I struggled on. As I approached, he put a finger to his lips. 'The Doctor's having a little ol' nap,' he whispered as I got close enough to hear. 'Guess saving the universe all the time is a pretty tiring business.'

' _NO!'_ I wasn't sure if I'd shouted aloud or in my head until I saw Elvis's shocked expression. There was the Doctor, still sprawled on the ground where I'd left him, a smile of utter peace and contentment on his face. I flung myself down beside him and shook him hard. 'Wake up, Doctor!

Wake up!'

His eyes flickered open and his smile grew wider, but he was barely focusing. 'River? What have I told you about sneaking into my bedroom at night?'

'It's not night time and this isn't your bedroom,' I told him firmly. 'And I need you to wake up.

Now!'

The urgency in my voice penetrated at last and he pushed himself up on to his elbows. 'Whassup?' he said, still sleepy but more himself.

'Melissa's drugging people and turning them into fertiliser,' I told him. I was working it out in my head as I explained it to him. 'The people who share her vision get all this inner peace and calm and then when they leave the meadows they spread the word, about how beautiful it all is, and how conservation is so essential, all that stuff. But she weeds out those who aren't going to fall in with her plans, separates them from the others and gives them the sort of peace that has "rest in" in front of it.'

'Tha's ver' int'restin…' slurred the Doctor, lying back down again and closing his eyes. I shook him really hard this time.

'You will not go back to sleep! Look, this is my fault. I took down the force barrier and the gas, or whatever it is, is spreading wider afield. But you're a Time Lord! Switch on your respiratory bypass system or something! There are people to save!'

That's the sort of clarion call he always responds to. In seconds he was sitting up, shaking his head as if to expel the gas from it, and looking at me with eyes now fully alert. 'That's not exactly how the respiratory bypass system works,' he said. 'But good call, Gallifreyan physiology, that'll keep me safe for a bit.'

We set off. Elvis was not happy. His illusions had been shattered. I saw his face and he didn't look angry, more like a puppy that couldn't understand why his beloved master was kicking him. 'But she was doing it to help the humans,' he said, sad and puzzled. 'Why would she kill them?'

Well, the answer to that was pretty clear. I've met enough 'greater good' types in my life. But I wasn't sure I could adequately explain these complexities to Elvis, who was a simple soul at (plastic – not wooden) heart.

I was wearing Elvis's satin scarf tied over my mouth and nose as a makeshift gasmask and the Doctor had shown me some breathing techniques that would minimise the amount I inhaled. Neither were fully effective, but it meant I should be able to keep going a bit longer so I could find Melissa's victims.

I could tell we were getting close to the place as the gas began to get heavier and my steps began to slow down. You know when you try to run in dreams but find you can barely move, your legs weighed down in treacle? It was like that, but for real. At least we had Elvis with us so if either the Doctor or I did succumb, he'd be there to wake us up. And then I knew we were definitely in the right place because we started to trip over bones again.

'Worm food,' said the Doctor, looking down at yet another corpse. Which is when I realised the full horror of the situation.

Melissa had said that she owed the success of the meadows to the 206 – her very special fertiliser.

And I'd just realised what that was.

There are 206 bones in the human body. Bone meal is one of the most nutritious types of fertiliser. Melissa wasn't just killing the people who didn't share her vision, she was building her insect empire on the bones of her enemies, feeding them to the soil, growing the meadows that her insects needed to survive. The circle of life, created by death.

I led the Doctor and Elvis to the four unconscious dissenters and Elvis, slightly helped but probably more hindered by the Doctor and me, carried them out of the danger zone. Then the Doctor got out the sonic screwdriver (I'd given it back, of course) and zipped and zapped to restore the force field, so the gas would stop escaping. Except he couldn't.

'You popped it like a bubble,' he said. 'Can't restore a bubble from the pop.' 'Well, can you blow a new bubble, then?' I asked.

His face twisted into a 'hmmm'. 'Not from here, I can't. There'll be controls somewhere, though.'

I was worried. 'Without the force field, the gas will keep spreading and spreading. It'll knock everyone out! We need to find those controls.'

'Or –' the Doctor span lazily on his heels and pointed in a random direction – 'we shut off the gas.

And I wouldn't be at all surprised if force field controls and sleepy gas source are both at the same place.'

'Probably the dome we entered through.' 'Probably, yes.' He took in a deep breath.

'What are you doing?' I yelped, as he staggered slightly.

'Just… checking… direction… of gas,' he said, slightly sheepishly, still reeling on the spot. But after a few seconds he recovered and called, 'This way!'

We decided to leave the unconscious bodies where they were. Not only would it be difficult for us to carry them, we were actually heading towards the source of the gas (or so we hoped), so it was safer for them there.

I don't know how long it took to walk back to the dome. I was half back in that dreamlike world again. There were moments when I would have given in to sleep if the Doctor hadn't been there to tell me to keep going. As it was, I think Elvis practically carried me the last half mile. Well, sometimes it's OK being a damsel in distress. At least it saves your legs.

I re-entered the world of consciousness to see a bald man looking down on me. My muddled thought processes went 'Sontaran? Silence? Jean-Luc?' until my head cleared and I realised it was Elvis. 'Well, we needed to bung up that nozzle,' said the Doctor, indicating Elvis's trademark quiff, now inserted into a hole halfway up the wall. 'Luckily Madame Tussauds don't use superglue to stick their wigs on.'

'The gas'll still seep out though,' I said. 'We have to find where it's coming from and shut it off.'

And so the three of us strode forward into the glass building: a purposeful approach that might have looked more impressive had our trio not consisted of an ancient Time Lord in a bow tie, a swishy-frocked heroine and a bald, plastic, alien Elvis Presley.

The Doctor had taken note of the nozzle's location and was now weaving his way through the honeycomb building to find its source. We went through room after room, tracking it nearer and nearer. 'Just through here!' said the Doctor eventually – and stopped.

The wall ahead wasn't made of glass, it was built of something black and yellow. No – it _was_ made of glass. I realised that the black and yellow was moving. Crawling. Flying. On the other side of the wall was a solid mass of insects. Somewhere in the middle of them were the controls we needed to reach.

'The room's full of wasps!' I exclaimed.

The Doctor shook his head. 'They're too big for wasps. Giant hornets, if I'm not mistaken. The most venomous stingers of all. Well, you can't say that's not a good defence. Go in there and you'd be smothered in minutes. Not sure if even my system could cope with a few hundred stings.' He screwed up his nose. 'At the very least, it would _really_ hurt.'

'They wouldn't affect Elvis, though,' I said, at the exact same moment that Elvis said, 'They wouldn't hurt me none.'

We looked at each other. 'That's settled, then.'

The Doctor sprang to action. 'Right! River, you get out of here.' 'Er, no,' I said.

'Er, _yes_ ,' he said. I do like it when he's masterful. That's master without a capital M, by the way. 'When Elvis opens the door, a few hornets are going to get out,' he elaborated. 'Hopefully they're happy, happy hornets who don't want to sting anyone, but just in case they've got out of bed on the wrong side, I'd rather you were out of their way.'

'And you?'

'I'll be all right, as long as not too many get out. I have to stay close to give Elvis instructions on how to disable the systems.'

Well, I didn't much like the idea, but I complied. I only went as far as the next room, though.

Thanks to the glass walls I at least had some idea of what was going on, distorted as the views were. I found the Doctor's confiscated picnic basket under a desk and fished out one of the remaining sandwiches to pass the time.

The Doctor's voice drifted through to me every now and then. 'Turn that dial up to ten! Now hit that switch! Cut the green wire!'

And then, just as I'd finished my sandwich and moved on to a cream horn, another voice joined his. 'What are you doing?!'

There was a note of hysteria in the voice. Through the warped glass Melissa – the new arrival was Melissa, of course – looked a hundred feet tall, the Doctor tiny beside her. There was something in her hand; it may have been a gun.

I hunkered down near the door, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible should she look my way. Always preserve the element of surprise in case it's needed.

She had spotted Elvis. 'How can he survive in there?'

'Oh, plastic man, nothing to worry about,' I heard the Doctor say. 'He's just dismantling your sleeping gas system. Some form of ultra-poppy extract, I expect? Might as well use the plants for everything, after you've got them so well fertilised.'

'You must stop him.'

'Sorry, no. You're the one who needs to stop.' The Doctor raised his voice. 'Elvis, keep on doing what you're doing, please.'

Now she raised her hand. Yes, definitely a gun. 'Stop him or I'll shoot.'

'No deal,' said the Doctor. 'You see, you're probably going to shoot me anyway. Can't let me go and tell the authorities what's going on here, what you make your extra-special fertiliser out of. But if we manage to sabotage your machine, there's at least a chance that the others out there will get away. Keep going, Elvis!'

'I will shoot!' she shrieked, and I believed her. I opened the door and flung the first thing to hand at her. The picnic basket.

You know how people use 'throw like a girl' as an insult? It wouldn't be an insult if the girl they were talking about was me. Because I throw like a demon. Yes, the basket distracted Melissa. But I threw it so hard and so fast that it smashed into the glass wall beside her.

Jam sandwiches and sticky buns and fizzy pop rained down on Melissa's head as the wall shattered and a thousand thousand hungry – and angry – hornets flew at her.

The Doctor dashed through the door towards me and I slammed it behind him. I couldn't see Melissa through the glass, only curtains of insects. The Doctor instinctively turned back, ready to dive back into the fray, but I took his arm. 'Elvis will get her out,' I said.

And eventually there he was, those magic hips swaggering towards us, a small body held in his waxen arms. I opened the door to let him through, shutting it swiftly before too many hornets joined them. A few buzzed disorientedly around, but paid no attention to us.

The Doctor looked at her. 'I'm sorry. That much venom in so short a time – she didn't have a chance.' He sighed. 'Come on. Let's get out of here.'

When it comes to adventures, the Doctor's very much a _wham-bam-thank-you_ man. No hanging around afterwards.

'Shouldn't we…' began Elvis, who hadn't been around at the end of one of the Doctor's little jaunts before.

I shook my head. 'You've stopped the sleep gas, we'll take down the force field that's around this place, everyone wakes up and leave. We'll go home for tea and—' I broke off. I'd just remembered why we'd come here in the first place. Elvis's last hurrah.

'I'm staying,' he said.

'I know you wanted to spend your last days here…' I began, but Elvis stopped me.

'Nuh-huh. That's not why I'm staying. This stuff –' he gestured around him, which meant he was pretty much pointing at a few hornets and a dead woman covered in jam, but I took his meaning – 'is important for humanity. I'm going to keep it going.'

'But the Nestenes…'

The Doctor burst out laughing and clapped Elvis on the back. 'Yes! Brilliant! Well done that Auton.

Of course, if we put the force field back up around this place, he'll be perfectly safe.' 'Er, on the subject of fertiliser…' I began.

'I think I'll find a new source,' he said.

I avoided the next Nestene invasion – well, all that 'is it a hand? No, it's a gun!' gets tedious after a while – but I did take a quick peek to see that Elvis had got through intact. I needn't have worried. 'Fans go "Wild in the Country" for Plastic Elvis!' was one of the headlines I spotted, and it turned out that his 'Benefit for Bees' concerts were great hits. I popped along to one – incognito – and cheered at his 'I Got Stung' (sung as bees swarmed around him) and 'It's Now Or Never' (waking up the world to what's going on re: insects). He was making quite an impact, and I'd never seen his plastic face look so happy. When he finished off with 'Peace In The Valley' and 'This Is My Heaven', I knew things were OK.

I was leaving the gig (with my jar of 'Money Honey' from the gift shop – all proceeds to help the bees) when I heard someone clearing their throat behind me. I turned, and so did everyone else, as Elvis the Auton began singing 'Are You Lonesome Tonight?', his eyes fixed on mine.

I listened, and realised that he'd put his plastic finger on something unalterable in my life.

Whatever happened, whoever I was with, there would always be a sense in which I was lonesome. But it was something I would – and could – live with.

When he'd finished, I walked over and placed a hand on his smooth, hard cheek. 'I'm all shook up,' I told him. 'That's the wonder of you.' Then I kissed him. 'For ol' time's sake,' I said. Then I walked away.

 _River Song has left the building._

A Gamble with Time Steve Lyons

It was the summer of 2016, in a city called London.

That's on Earth, in case I haven't mentioned it before.

On this summer morning, London was in the grip of an electrical storm.

What struck me, as I pushed my way along the West End's crowded pavements, was how little people cared. Most kept their heads down, just getting on with the daily grind of living. Occasionally, someone would glance up at the blood-red sky, shot through with forks of lightning. They would shake their heads and tut-tut and wonder if it was actually going to rain.

I don't know what else I expected.

At this point in Earth's history, if I'd told the cynical Londoners and the oblivious tourists around me that the storm was caused by alien intervention, that the universe of time and space was tearing itself apart, they would probably have rolled their eyes and sighed, 'Not again!'

Only one person, other than me, knew the truth.

His name was Martin Flint. He was a 46-year-old insurance salesman, living alone in a suburban basement flat that he could barely afford.

At ten o'clock that morning, he was waiting on the doorstep of his local bookmakers when it opened. He was wearing dark brown leather-uppers, no socks and a crumpled suit jacket over a pair of striped hospital pyjamas.

The bookie barely spared him a glance. He had seen worse.

What did surprise him was when Martin produced a debit card and insisted on placing every penny in his bank account – which came to a little under £1500 – on a single horse, an outside bet, to win.

You're wondering, Dear Diary, how I know this.

It began, as things so often do, with the Doctor.

He arrived at my door to pick me up. I have told him to stop doing that. I'm perfectly capable of managing my own escapes.

He was in his bow-tie-and-chin incarnation. As I would later learn, he hadn't been to Lake Silencio yet. If he had, he'd have known why showing his face – any of his faces – in Stormcage was a terrible idea.

To be fair to him, he had come in disguise.

Being less fair, the disguise was a twentieth-century British bobby's helmet. He seemed to think this rendered him unrecognisable. A square of psychic paper and a gormless expression can work miracles – luckily for him.

Behind the guards' backs, he doffed the headgear and pointed to his grinning face as if revealing his identity to me.

The guards agreed, with some misgivings, to hand me over to him – as long as we were shackled together. I certainly had no problem with that. The Doctor did his best to avoid my gaze as he applied the handcuffs. Dear Diary, how I love it when I can turn him bright red with a look.

We approached the exit at a measured pace, aware of eyes and camera lenses upon us. As we left the guards' earshot, I whispered sidelong to my escort: 'Nice bracelets. They look familiar.'

'You said we'd find a use for them,' he whispered back to me. 'Don't I just get you the best birthday presents?'

'River,' said the Doctor, gravely. 'I need your help.' 'You always did.'

'I've lost someone. A human person. I need you to find him. "Lost" is the wrong word, actually.

I've _misplaced_ him. I know where he is, but I can't get to him. There was this giant, green alien slug,

you see, and—'

He was interrupted by a wailing alarm.

By now, we've both learned to run first and ask questions later.

This gave us a head start before the shooting began. Not that it helped us much. With gunfire closing around us from every direction, we ducked into an empty bathroom. The Doctor sonically melted the lock, which bought us a minute or two.

There was no other way out, of course – except for one. The Doctor brandished his screwdriver again and removed our handcuffs. He wrapped a device about my wrist to replace them. I recognised it as a vortex manipulator. Well, I would. I have one just like it myself.

'Martin Flint,' he said, loudly, over the sound of guards hammering at the door. 'Who?'

'On July the seventh 2016, 2.38 p.m., he stumbled into a vortex rift. In a car park off Great Russell Street.'

'That was careless.'

'He'd have been thrown back in time. Not very far. Somewhere between eight and ten hours. I need you to find him, keep an eye on him until time catches up with him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid – like contacting his younger self or telling everyone what happens in _Deal_ _or_ _No_ _Deal_ or—'

'You want me to babysit for you!' I arched an eyebrow.

The Doctor nodded happily. 'That is essentially it, yes. Don't worry, Martin's had a tiring day, so he'll probably sleep through.'

It had grown ominously quiet outside.

The guards, I imagined, had called for a sonic blaster, which would put a square hole through the door in seconds. It's on my Christmas list. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the vortex manipulator, and I realised he was about to operate it remotely. 'Did we miss the part where I agreed to this?' I protested.

'I thought we'd skip that part, save time.'

'What about you?' I asked him. 'Those guards will shoot you on sight. How will you get out of here?'

He grinned at me. He adjusted his policeman's helmet to a jauntier angle. 'River Song,' he said, 'I thought you'd recognised me.'

He thumbed a stud on his screwdriver.

Its emitter lit up green, the device on my wrist hummed to life – and I felt a terrible wrenching sensation as the bathroom, the Stormcage Containment Facility and the whole of the fifty-second century AD faded around me.

Next thing I knew, I was stumbling across a cobbled surface.

Vortex travel usually isn't so rough – except on my hair, but don't get me started on that. Something was wrong. Looking up at the sky, I confirmed it.

'Oh, Doctor,' I groaned, 'you arrange the most romantic getaways.'

I was in a tiny car park, between the backs of office buildings. It had two spaces – for the use, according to a gleaming sign, of employees of Dead Cert Investments – and a cluster of bins of various colours. Both spaces were currently empty.

I was in the right place, it seemed, but at the wrong time.

It wasn't 4.38 in the morning. It was too light for that, even with the storm raging overhead. I could hear the grumbling of rush-hour traffic from nearby streets. The storm must have thrown me off course. I didn't dare try again.

Had I even arrived on the right day?

I was being watched.

A man had emerged from a fire exit door in one corner. He was standing at the top of a short flight of steps, behind a rail. He was middle-aged, short, balding, overweight, wearing an old-fashioned business suit with a waistcoat and fob watch.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I'm looking for a… friend. I don't suppose you know him. Martin Flint? He was here this morning.'

The man continued to glare at me, disdainfully, through a pair of round-rimmed glasses. I wondered how long he had been there.

Dear Diary, you're ahead of me at this point. You know this man is more than he appears to be, else why draw attention to him? I lacked the benefit of dramatic foreshadowing, however. I apologised again and left.

I made for the main road. I searched the pockets of my grey prison coveralls as I walked. I had you, Dear Diary, a pen and a tube of hallucinogenic lipstick, which I was saving for a special occasion.

Had I known I was going on an adventure today, I would have been better prepared.

I'd have dressed more stylishly, at least.

I had to find Martin Flint as soon as possible. I had to find out what he had done to cause the time storm, and I had to fix it – if I could.

I wished the Doctor had told me more about him – if not an address, then an age, an occupation, his height, the colour of his eyes, anything. It was difficult to question passers-by about him without a description.

Not much point searching phone books or the worldwide web either, I concluded. If only his parents had been more imaginative when they named him…

I got my first break talking to a newsstand owner.

He had opened up at seven. An ambulance had sped past him as he had arrived fifteen minutes early.

He was sure it had pulled out of the side street leading to the car park. I had him tell me the names of the nearest hospitals.

With a little wheedling – and crocodile tears for a 'missing fiancé' – I persuaded him to let me use his telephone.

Thirty-seven minutes later, I dumped a stolen moped in an ambulance bay. I mentally thanked the courier who had left it at the kerbside, unattended, complete with keys and helmet. I'm sure, if I'd had time to explain why I needed it, he would have minded less. At least he might have moderated his language.

I had already established that Martin Flint had been brought here. I asked for more details at the admissions desk. I was asked in turn if I was a relative of his. Being familiar with this time and place, I had expected this and had rehearsed an expedient lie. 'Yes, I am,' I said.

It was outside visiting hours, but no one tried to stop me as I strode onto Martin Flint's ward as if I'd every right to be there. I found an empty bed with his name on a whiteboard behind it. A newspaper was spread across the sheets. I picked it up and checked the date on it: _Thursday_ _7_ _July_ _2016_.

With a twinge of anxiety, I flagged down a passing nurse. I pointed out to her that one of her patients was missing.

She wasn't overly concerned, at first. 'He can't have gone far,' she insisted, cheerfully. She indicated a half-open cupboard by the bedside. A pair of crumpled grey trousers and a white shirt lay folded on its shelf. A battered brown leather briefcase occupied the space underneath them.

I crouched to take a closer look.

'He was feeling much brighter, anyhow. He'd had some sort of blackout, but we couldn't find anything physically wrong with him. We're sending him for a scan this afternoon, but he can

probably go home after that. You _are_ a relative?'

'Shoes,' I said, checking under the bed. 'Where are his shoes?' Well, there followed something of a kerfuffle.

Bathrooms were searched and questions asked. The patient in the adjacent bed to Martin's testified that something in the newspaper had agitated him. 'He kept asking me what day it was, like he couldn't remember, poor blighter.'

Someone else had actually seen him slipping away, with a suit jacket bundled under his arm. His hands had been shaking. 'I just thought he was stepping outside for a ciggie.' A porter was despatched to check, but came back empty-handed.

I took advantage of the empty nurses' station, in the meantime, to sneak a look at the computer records. Someone had been logged in when they were rudely distracted. It only took a few keystrokes to bring up Martin Flint's address.

I hoped my borrowed moped hadn't been clamped or towed yet.

Martin lived midway along – and underneath – a row of Victorian terraces, with white stucco work and bay windows.

I pulled up across the street at 10.44 a.m. My timing could hardly have been better. Someone was just leaving the flat, fumbling with a deadlock key. _The man himself?_ Could I have been that lucky?

This man was in his mid-to-late forties, matching the age I had gleaned from Martin's hospital records. His shoulders were slumped as if bearing the weight of the world. He wore a crumpled grey suit with brown shoes – but it was the briefcase that really gave him away.

He carried a battered brown leather briefcase, like the one I had seen at the hospital. _No_ , I thought,

 _not_ like _the one at the hospital…_

I had found Martin Flint, all right – but it was the wrong Martin Flint. This was the younger model

– younger by between eight and ten hours – the one that belonged in this moment. He was walking at a hurried pace with his head down, northward along the street, towards the tube station around the corner.

I was torn between searching his flat for clues to his future-self's whereabouts or trailing him. The former option, I realised, could leave me with nothing.

I decided to hang on to my only lead.

I hopped off my bike and fell into step behind Flint-the-younger. We hadn't gone very far at all when another figure rounded the corner ahead of us.

I corrected myself again: _the_ same _figure._

This Martin Flint was wearing dark brown leather-uppers, no socks and a crumpled suit jacket over a pair of striped hospital pyjamas.

The younger Martin, paying little attention to his surroundings, hadn't noticed his older self yet. Flint-the-elder, however, stumbled to a halt directly in his path. He was staring at his less dishevelled twin, wild-eyed.

I increased my pace – not by enough, I hoped, for the younger Martin to notice me as I overtook him. I got between the two of them, flinging out my arms to block their view of each other. 'Darling!' I cried. I swept up to the older Martin, threw a crushing hug around him and planted my lips on his.

The younger Martin glanced up as he passed us, but didn't recognise the back of his own head. I held the lip lock until he had turned the corner, at which point its recipient pulled away from me.

'What are you doing?' he spluttered. 'Who are you?' For the record, Dear Diary, when I snog a complete stranger, I usually get a much better reaction.

I fixed Martin Flint with a confident gaze, a gaze that said I knew more than I really did. 'The Doctor sent me—'

'Um, who? I don't think I know any—'

'—and I can tell from the startled-rabbit look in your eyes that you know who I mean, so don't even try to lie to me.' I indicated the corner around which Martin Flint-the-younger had vanished. 'Where is he going?'

'I… He… I had to call into the office for a couple of hours. Then I had a… an interview in town this afternoon, only I…' His shoulders sagged. He rubbed his puffy, red eyes with his thumbs. He was unwashed and unshaven.

'I was in a… Was I in a car park? I saw a… a…' 'A giant, green alien slug?' I prompted, helpfully. 'And a man, there was a man there, with a—'

'Chin. So, your flat should be empty for the rest of the day?' Martin blinked at me. 'How do you know I live alone?' 'Sweetie, where do you want me to start?' I said.

'I'm not… I'm not going mad, am I?' Martin Flint asked me. 'You'd be a better judge of that than I would.'

'But… this is Thursday, yes? Thursday…' 'July the seventh.'

He sank onto a battered-looking couch, with creaking springs and old stains in the fabric. 'But I… I've already—'

'—lived through Thursday July the seventh once. I know. I just saw you doing it, remember?

Welcome back.'

I wandered into a cluttered kitchenette. I rooted out a pair of clean glasses from the crockery piles on the draining board and filled them from the tap.

I could see Martin through the serving hatch, though he had his back to me. He was hunched up, still trying to grasp the ungraspable.

'So, you… How do you know about—?'

'—your future? Oh, Martin, you know how it is these days. Spoilers everywhere you look, you can't avoid them. I blame the internet – for that and for making cats believe they rule the world.'

I pushed a glass of cold water into his hands. He took it from me, but didn't look at it. 'Did you… come back in time too? Did you follow me here?'

'Well, someone had to,' I averred. 'Do you know what would have happened if I hadn't just kept you from meeting yourself?'

'No, what would have happened?'

'That… depends. Anything from an incurable case of déjà vu to the destruction of the time continuum. Right now, I'm leaning firmly towards the latter – or haven't you seen the sky out there?'

'The storm?' Martin grimaced as if the effort of remembering hurt him. 'You're saying I…? No, that can't be, because your Doctor friend, I remember him saying that the storm was caused by the… the monster.'

I sat beside him. 'The storm happened yesterday too? I mean, today? You remember the storm from today, from the first time you lived through it?'

'Yes, yes, that's what I'm saying. It may have… I'm not sure, it may be a little worse this time than… Is that possible? How is that possible?'

I took a sip of water. I swilled it around my mouth as I thought. So, the Doctor had been involved in Martin's 'accident'.

That much had almost gone without saying, hadn't it? Why else couldn't he have come back here himself? He can be a real stickler about his Laws of Time – when it suits him. Having two Martin

Flints in London on the same day was bad enough. Having two Doctors on top of that… Excuse me, Dear Diary, while I conjure with that image for a moment.

I asked Martin to tell me everything, from the beginning. 'On second thoughts,' I said, 'forget the beginning. Go from this morning.'

'Do you mean "this morning" the first time or…?' 'After you fell into the rift. You woke up and…?'

'The car park. I was still in the car park, only it… The sun was rising. I thought I must have lain there all night. It was cold, so cold and I couldn't remember… just flashes of… I must have blacked out again. The next thing I recall, I was warm, in a hospital bed. The nurses said I was lucky someone found me when they did. There was a radio playing on the ward, and that… that's how I knew…'

'That it was Thursday morning all over again.' 'I thought I was going mad.'

'I can imagine.'

'And the papers too… I was so confused. I had to get out of there. I had to get back to… to the real world, to somewhere I knew. I discharged myself.'

'Escaped, you mean.'

'I grabbed my jacket and shoes and slipped away while no one was looking. I found my way to the tube. I came home. I don't know what I expected to find here.'

'Oh, trust me, you got lucky – if I say so myself.'

'I just want to… I don't know, go to sleep and wake up tomorrow, Friday morning, when there isn't another "me" out there and everything makes sense again.'

'And that's all?' 'What do you mean?'

I regarded him through narrowed eyes. 'You've nothing else to tell me?' 'Nothing,' insisted Martin, but he wouldn't meet my gaze.

'So, you came straight here from the hospital. You didn't take any diversions?' 'I already said.'

I looked at the carriage clock on Martin's mantelpiece. It told me that the time was 11.03. I had left the hospital after he did, but beaten him home. We had taken different modes of transport, though. He _could_ have been telling me the truth.

My every instinct told me otherwise.

'Martin, listen to me, this is important. You aren't supposed to be here, you know that. Every action you take in the past has consequences, and they can—'

'What about you?' he interrupted me, with a flash of belligerence. 'You shouldn't be here either, should you?'

'No,' I confessed, 'I shouldn't, but I know what I'm doing. I know which butterflies not to tread on

– and, Martin, I'm not the one crossing my own time stream. You've heard of the grandfather paradox?'

'I'm not sure. Is that the one where—?' 'You must have seen _Back_ _to_ _the_ _Future_.'

His eyes widened. 'That… Is that what you're worried about? But you saw everything that happened. I didn't talk to him. The other me, he didn't see me. I mean, _I_ didn't even see me. He didn't… I won't…'

His brow furrowed in the familiar manner of a time-traveller juggling tenses and personal pronouns. I had to admit, though, he had a point. He _hadn't_ interacted with himself. I had headed him off before he could. So, whatever Martin Flint was keeping from me – and I knew there was something – how important could it be?

I stood and crossed the room, to a back window. It looked out onto an austere yard with a few flowers withering in planter boxes. The building must have been on a slope, as the yard – and the alleyway behind it – were level with Martin's living room. Steps swept down into the former from the flat above.

If I craned my neck, I could see a patch of roiling red sky. _Was_ the storm getting worse, I wondered?

The best thing might have been to let Martin sleep, as he wanted. Watch over him for just over three and a half hours, then slip away. Trust that, whatever else was happening out there, the Doctor would handle – indeed, had already handled – it. A simple babysitting job, then, as advertised.

I turned back to Martin. He was hugging his knees, staring blankly into the mid-distance. 'Tell me about the Doctor and the giant, green alien slug,' I said. 'Tell me what happened in the car park.'

A shadow passed the front window, at that moment, as someone descended the steps to Martin's door. A sudden harsh buzzing noise startled Martin, who leapt out of his seat.

'Don't answer it,' I cautioned him. 'Martin Flint isn't home, remember? He's sitting on a train on his way into the office, then he has—'

My words fell on deaf ears, needless to say.

'It's Mr Smith!' cried Martin, peering out through a grubby net curtain. 'Who?'

'It's Mr… What is he doing here? This could be important. I have to…'

He bustled out into the tiny hallway before I could stop him. He opened the door. I heard his voice and another – a soft, rasping voice – exchanging pleasantries. Then Martin returned, with his visitor in tow. 'Mr Smith, this is, uh…'

'River,' I said. 'River Song.'

Neither of us made a move to shake hands. We sized each other up with recognition – and suspicion

in our eyes as Martin burbled on, oblivious.

'And this is, ah, Mr Smith. I had… I have an interview with him this afternoon, remember I mentioned? A second interview. He runs a business in town called—'

'—Dead Cert Investments,' I deduced.

Dear Diary, it was of course the man with the glasses, from the car park.

Martin glanced down at his hospital pyjamas, self-consciously. 'Ah, yes. I should probably go and… Make yourself at home, Mr Smith, I'll only be a…' He hurried away across the hall into – I assumed – his bedroom.

In the meantime, 'Mr Smith' and I circled each other warily. 'So, you found your "friend", Ms Song. I'm glad for you.' 'Yes, thank you, I did.'

His lips twisted into a smile, which stopped short of his steely grey eyes. 'I thought I ought to call on Mr Flint, see that everything was… as it should be.'

'How thoughtful of you. Tell me, Mr Smith,' I said coolly, 'what exactly does Dead Cert Investments do? No, let me guess – you deal in futures.'

'That would be an area of interest to you, I take it?' 'You could say I've dabbled.'

'Perhaps you should call in for an interview yourself. That is, if your current employers would have no objections?'

'Oh, I don't work for— Ah.' Mr Smith was staring pointedly at my right wrist. My sleeve had ridden up over the vortex manipulator.

His expression left me in no doubt that he recognised it for what it was. His hand went to his hip. I was already diving for cover behind the couch.

Suddenly, he had a gun, as if snatched from an invisible holster. It was a stubby white blaster that certainly hadn't been produced on this world in this year. He fired a beam of energy, which seared over my head and melted a wall mirror into slag.

He barged around the side of the couch and fired again. He burned a circular hole in Martin's carpet.

I had already scrambled out of his way. I snatched an ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it like a discus. It struck my attacker on the temple, throwing off his next shot, which destroyed the front window. I threw myself after the ashtray. I tackled Mr Smith to the ground while he was dazed.

He was stronger than he looked. He managed to throw me off him. He scrabbled to retrieve his dropped gun. I caught hold of his belt, or so I thought. I tried to drag him back towards me, but something came away in my hand instead. At the same time, there was a flash of green light and Mr Smith's appearance… changed.

I was holding a small, spherical device with a control pad and a tiny lens set into it: a hologram projector.

I was looking at a fat, green monster, its soft tissue shimmering with moisture. I didn't know the species, but the description was certainly familiar.

It reared up on its tail, with a sucking sound, looming over me. A pair of twitching feelers sprouted from its head, with blazing red eyes at their tips. The monster wore a mechanical mantle, from which a pair of cybernetic arms extended. One of these held its blaster, from which a snaking silver tube also plugged into the mantle.

I dived into the kitchenette, as the giant slug strafed the room behind me.

I looked for a weapon: a knife, anything I could use. Trust the Doctor to send me into danger unarmed! I swear, I love that man but sometimes I want to slap him. I heard a startled voice from the outer room, then a scuffle and a strangulated squeak. Martin was back – and, of course, the giant slug had him.

I glimpsed him through the serving hatch, dressed in a suit and shirt that looked exactly the same as the old ones. At least he was wearing socks now.

'Come out of there, Time Agent,' the monster hissed. Its voice, which sounded like Mr Smith's voice, emerged from a grille in its mantle as the eyes on its feelers blinked furiously. It held Martin Flint with a mechanical arm around his throat and was pressing the gun to his head. 'Or watch as I kill your friend.'

'It was you,' Martin whimpered. 'Mr Smith, you were the monster all—'

'Oh, I'm no Time Agent,' I said hurriedly, talking over him, 'but I am the one that should be making threats. I have…' I had nothing. What I needed was inspiration. I cast around for it. _A giant slug_ , I thought, _and_ _I'm_ _in_ _a kitchen. Why not?_ 'I have a big bag of salt and I'm not afraid to use it.'

A shudder convulsed the slug's body from feelers to tail.

I seized the initiative. 'Look,' I said, 'Mr… actually, what do I call you now? You don't look very much like a "Smith" to me.'

'Gharjhax,' the creature slurped. 'I am Gharjhax, prince-in-exile of the Mighty Garden Empire of the Gastropodic Alliance, and I—'

'I'm sure – and I'm a madwoman with a vortex manipulator, who turned up in your car park when I did entirely by accident. So, you've been doing a bit of time-travelling yourself? I'm hardly in a position to criticise, and I didn't come here to stop you.' _So_ _far,_ _so_ _true._

'And I… I didn't mean to…' Martin pitched in. 'I came for my interview, saw you fighting with that Doctor fellow in the car park and I—'

I interrupted him again. 'How about this?' I suggested. 'You let Martin go, I give you back your hologram projector. You'd find it tricky, running your business without it. Your clients would stare.

We make the swap and the three of us walk out of here, without anyone shooting anyone else. We go our separate ways and never—'

'Agreed,' said Gharjhax – too quickly, I thought. We made the exchange, all the same.

I tossed the projector to Gharjhax, deliberately high. He pushed his hostage away from him as he reached to catch the device. Martin stumbled into the kitchenette, trembling. I was already at the back door, fumbling with the lock. I bundled Martin out into the yard before he could say a word and told him to run.

Gharjhax appeared behind me with his blaster raised. I knew I couldn't trust him. 'On reflection—' he began. I'm sure it would have been a suitably pithy remark. I didn't wait to hear it either. I hadn't found a bag of salt, but I had seen a half-full cellar on one of the worktops. I shook it in the slug's direction.

He squealed – more, I think, in fear than in pain, as only a few grains could have hit him – and his shot went wild. It struck a strip light on the ceiling, precipitating a fierce electrical shower between us.

I raced after Martin, through the yard. He was waiting for me behind the gate and I cannoned into him. 'Keep running, you idiot!' I screamed at him – and we ran.

Martin wanted to go back to his flat.

He fretted about the open back door and the melted window. He said there had been burglaries in the area. I told him that, if Gharjhax set eyes on him again, he'd lose more than his possessions.

'You're the one he wants to kill,' he responded, sullenly. Dear Diary, he wasn't wrong.

So much for not treading on butterflies. I knew now that Gharjhax had either seen or detected my arrival in 2016 – whereupon I had given him Martin Flint's name and thus told him exactly where he could find me later.

Well, how was I to know he would have Martin's address on file?

The blood-red hue of the sky had definitely deepened, while lightning struck more frequently and more violently than ever. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. 'Gharjhax has an appointment with the Doctor this afternoon,' I said, half to myself. 'If he misses that because of me…'

Another thought, an even worse one, hit me.

I grabbed Martin's hand and started running again, ignoring his howl of protest. I dragged him towards the tube station. 'We're going to your office.'

'But my… my other self is there, and you said—'

'I know what I said, Martin. This is about what _you_ said.' 'What do you mean? I don't…'

'You as good as read Gharjhax his fortune back there. You warned him that something bad is about to happen to him – and that you, your younger self, will be involved. What would you do, armed with that information, if you were a giant, green, time-travelling, homicidal alien slug?'

'I… I'd…' Martin turned pale.

We reached the train station. I persuaded my befuddled companion to buy me a travelcard, and we waited on an open-air platform.

'I should call him,' said Martin, suddenly. 'Me. I should warn me about…' He winced as he patted himself down. 'My phone. I left it in my briefcase in the hospital. Is there a payphone? Can you see a payphone anywhere?'

'Phoning yourself is never a good idea,' I advised him. 'Just imagine for a second how that conversation would go – and anyway, our train is here.'

It was just pulling in, in a screeching huff. At this time of day, this far from the city centre, its carriages were almost empty. I asked Martin how long the journey would take us. 'On a good day, three-quarters of an hour,' was his answer.

Could Gharjhax get there any faster, I wondered? First, he had to put two and two together, then find Martin's work address – unless he had it with him – and the car park behind his office had been empty of vehicles, I recalled.

It occurred to me that he could have been on the train alongside us, in a new holographic disguise. The next forty-five minutes passed achingly slowly.

Martin worked on the fourth floor of a concrete and glass building, not far from the Barbican Centre. Approaching at a run, we saw a police car and an ambulance parked outside. _That could mean anything_ , I told myself.

My heart sank at the sight of a familiar moped overturned outside the doors. I chose not to wait for the lift.

By the time we had surmounted the stairs, Martin was panting and sweating. I saw this as a good thing, as it meant he couldn't say much. His office was a hive of activity – there were paramedics and a couple of constables present – so the last thing I needed was him blurting out something he shouldn't.

Gharjhax had left his mark here. There were scorch marks on the walls and an ionised smell in the air. Computer monitors and keyboards had been melted into new and interesting shapes. Chairs had been overturned.

Shell-shocked office workers sat in huddles. Some of them were receiving medical attention, but none appeared seriously hurt. Either Gharjhax was a truly terrible shot – and I can't dismiss that possibility – or he hadn't been shooting to kill.

One worker was notably missing.

'I'm looking for Martin Flint,' I announced. 'Where is he?'

A pale-faced teenager in an ill-fitting suit blinked at me. 'That's him, right there. He's standing behind you.'

'Right. Yes. Obviously. What I meant was—' 'Martin!'

The shout came from two directions at once, and echoed around us as a whisper: 'Martin… Martin… Martin…' Suddenly, we were the centre of attention – and people were converging upon us, brimming with questions. Was Martin OK? Where had he been? What did he know about the monster that had crashed into their lives?

'It was looking for you,' someone clarified for us, helpfully. 'It asked for you by name. By name!

What the hell is going on, Martin?'

I improvised. 'He can't talk. He's had a shock. What did the monster do to him?' I hadn't seen a body, thankfully. 'Take him hostage? Did it look at any point as if he might have been – oh, let's say – disintegrated at all?'

Martin let out a strangulated whine.

'He wasn't here,' the pale-faced teenager offered. 'That's why the monster shot up the place. It said, if we didn't tell it where he was—'

'Not here?' Martin had found his voice. 'But that's impossible. I…' 'What did you tell it?' I asked.

'We had no choice. Sorry, Martin, but it would have killed us all.'

'Kath told it about your phone call,' someone else pitched in, 'from the bank. She said you'd gone to sort things out – but she didn't know which bank you'd gone to, not exactly. None of us did. So—'

I rounded on Martin. 'Which bank?'

'There's a branch near my flat, but I never…'

I cast around for an un-melted wall clock. It was 12.34.

'It's time we made that call,' I decided. I recovered a desk phone from the floor, checked that it was still working and thrust it into Martin's hands, keeping hold of the receiver. I instructed him to dial.

I listened to the ringback tone, wondering what I would say to Martin Flint when he answered. As it turned out, I didn't have to worry about that.

I heard a tinny rendition of a pop song from the 1980s, muffled but growing in volume as its source approached me. A smartly dressed young woman with her hair in disarray was carrying a familiar briefcase.

'You left in such a hurry, you forgot to take this with you. I tried to catch you up, but…' She handed the case to Martin, who rummaged behind a battered leather flap, produced a warbling mobile phone and shot me a helpless look.

More policemen were arriving, asking questions, scribbling in notebooks. I whisked Martin away from there, before they could hem us in. We escaped through an unwatched side door. As we clattered down four flights of stairs together, I warned my companion, 'You have a _lot_ of explaining to do.'

'I've really done it, haven't I?' said Martin, morosely. 'Changed my own past. _Back to the Future_. What happens now? Do I start… fading away?' He squinted at his own hands, turning them over in front of him, wiggling his fingers.

'That might be the least of our problems,' I murmured.

We were perched on a low wall outside Liverpool Street Station, with railings behind us. I had done the calculations. We couldn't reach the bank, find Martin Flint-the-younger and get him to his job interview on time.

If Martin didn't make the interview, he couldn't fall into the vortex rift and return to this morning. Everything would revert to how it had been. Martin would show up for his interview and fall into the rift again, tying history into a knot.

'He'll make it,' Martin Flint-the-elder insisted. 'He will. I really wanted that job. It meant more money, a lot more, and my first interview went really well, I really thought I had a chance. So, whatever the problem at the bank is, I'm sure—'

'What _is_ the problem at the bank? Martin?' 'I don't know. How could I know?'

'What did you do? The truth, this time. I know there's something.'

He shifted uncomfortably. 'Sometimes, I suppose, the bank calls me about… what they call "unusual activity" on my account.'

'Such as?'

'I might have… I did… I placed a bet. A small bet. Maybe not so small…'

He cast me a sidelong glance. He must have seen the reproach in my eyes, because he went on the defensive. 'Well, how was I to know…? I checked the racing results before I left the office. In the hospital, I remembered, the winner of the 12.30, odds of sixteen-to-one… and didn't I deserve something after…?'

'You put all your money on a horse,' I summed up. 'I did. Yes.'

'A bookmaker let you do that?'

Martin shrugged. 'It took some persuading, but Geoff knows me – and he's taken enough off me in the past. He'll have laid off most of it with the big chains, anyway, so it's not as if he'll lose… I mean, it's not like I'm really…'

'Taking something that doesn't belong to you?'

Get me, Dear Diary, up on my moral high horse! The truth is, I don't care if Martin Flint – or a hundred giant, green alien slugs for that matter – enrich themselves using time travel, as long as they're careful. As long as they don't try to take too much. _Every action you take in the past has consequences…_

'Companies like that,' Martin mumbled, studying his shoes, 'a few thousand pounds is nothing, nothing at all, to them. They won't miss it.'

Lightning flashed directly above us. The fiercest thunderclap yet drowned out the droning traffic. The pair of us looked up, apprehensively. 'No,' I agreed with Martin, 'you're probably right about that. They probably won't.'

'You, um, said something this morning, about… destruction?' 'The destruction of the time continuum. Yes.'

'That would be… bad, wouldn't it?' I didn't feel I needed to answer that question. 'Is there anything we could possibly, you know, do about it?'

I wrenched my eyes away from the blood-red sky. I pulled myself together. 'There's always something,' I maintained, 'especially where the Doctor is concerned.'

'The Doctor?'

'I wasn't completely honest with you either. I have trodden on a few butterflies myself, in my time. Some very big butterflies.' _Lake Silencio, for one_ , I was thinking. 'But the Doctor found a way to set things right. He always does.'

Martin Flint said, 'Oh.'

I frowned at him. 'Now what's wrong?'

'It's just that, I think… I might have saved the Doctor's life. In the car park. The monster was about to… and I… So, if I was never there…'

I took a deep breath. I told myself not to panic. My ears were filled with the sound of thunder. We were running out of options.

We returned to the place where – if you'll pardon my own mangled tenses, Dear Diary – it had all been about to begin.

Dead Cert Investments occupied an office above an empty shop unit on Great Russell Street. It was just as unimpressive from the front as it had been from the rear.

We had had some time to kill. It was 1.52 p.m. We were early. 'Take me through this again,' I demanded.

Martin obliged. 'I got here… will get here at 2.20. I buzzed and buzzed, but no one answered me.' He indicated a door entry system with three buttons. 'I thought maybe I was too early. I waited until half-past, my appointment time, but no one came. I began to wonder if I'd got the time right or the day or…'

'So, you decided to…?' I nudged him.

'Look around the back of the building, see if there was another door there.'

'Which there is,' I recalled. With a brisk stride, I led Martin down a familiar side street towards a familiar tiny, cobbled car park.

'So, this is where you saw them: Gharjhax and the Doctor.'

Martin nodded. 'I heard them shouting to begin with and I saw strange, flickering lights. I came around the corner of the building there, and the – Doctor? – was at the top of those steps by the door, while the monster—'

'The door. Was it open or closed?' I asked.

Martin's brow furrowed. 'It was… open, I think. No, closed. The door was closed. The door was definitely closed.'

I climbed the steps to the fire exit door, where I had seen 'Mr Smith' that morning. I stooped to examine it. There was no way to open it from this side. I pushed on the door, experimentally. It didn't yield. A sonic screwdriver would unlock it in a second, of course – as long as the wielder had that second.

'And Gharjhax,' I asked. 'Where was he?'

'He was here,' said Martin, from behind me. 'He was right here at the bottom of the steps. Is that…?

Does that help?'

'It might,' I considered.

I reached into my pocket and took out my hallucinogenic lipstick. Considering what it cost me, this was not how I had envisaged using it. Needs must, though.

I scrawled a brief message, just three words long, in foot-high letters across the fire exit door. I added three kisses at the bottom, in lieu of a signature. I straightened up to admire my handiwork.

'What do we do now?' asked Martin. 'We wait,' I said, 'and we watch.' 'Oh. Is that all?'

'If we are quite spectacularly lucky, it might be.'

We found a hiding place behind the bins, which gave us a perfect view of the prospective arena. We crouched in nervous silence and listened to the storm.

Martin began to fidget. I admonished him with a fierce whisper. He had cramp in his leg, he whimpered. He forgot about it quickly enough, as we heard a soft cough and an approaching shuffle that sounded nothing like footsteps.

A short, round, suited figure appeared at the car park entrance.

He surveyed the cobbled yard through round-rimmed glasses. He checked his fob watch and nodded to himself in satisfaction. Then he turned and stepped back out into the street, out of our line of sight.

'That… that was him,' whispered Martin, unnecessarily. 'Mr Smith.'

I eased back the flap of Martin's briefcase, to check the time on his phone. It was 2.16 p.m. 'He's early.'

'What does that mean? Is that bad?'

'It means he's here. It means one member of our cast is in place awaiting his cue. Just two more to come. It means we have a chance.'

History, as the Doctor always says, is remarkably resilient. I only hoped it would prove to be resilient enough.

Speaking of the Doctor, he was our next arrival.

He sauntered onto the scene with his hands behind his back, whistling. He kicked away imaginary pebbles as he walked, while his head turned in every direction except towards Dead Cert Investments' back door. He could have been performing 'casual innocence' in a pantomime.

He cocked his head as if hearing a suspicious sound. He raised a finger to his chin in a study of contemplation. I think he muttered something to himself.

Who did he imagine was watching him, anyway? Other than Martin Flint and me, I mean. Oh, and of course the alien slug.

'Aha!' the Doctor exclaimed. He spun around, throwing out an arm dramatically, pointing at the door like an arrow. He straightened his back. He reached inside his jacket for his sonic screwdriver, and now his expression was deadly serious.

The performance was over.

He climbed the steps towards the door. As he did so, Martin grabbed my arm, digging his fingernails into it. I followed his frightened gaze. 'Mr Smith' had returned. He crept across the tiny car park. He had drawn his blaster and was training it upon his oblivious target's back.

Martin tensed, preparing to break cover. I placed my hand firmly on his shoulder, shaking my head.

I prayed I was doing the right thing.

'Mr Smith' was right behind the Doctor now. I thought of all the past times we would never have had if he died here today. He had reached the fire exit door, however. He couldn't miss my lipstick message to him: LOOK BEHIND YOU.

He whirled around.

Gharjhax's weapon disappeared inside his holographic field. 'You must be the proprietor,' said the Doctor, 'Mr…?' 'Smith,' replied the disguised alien.

The Doctor grinned in recognition. 'Ooh, I use that alias as well. We could be fake-related. Let's see now. Hologram projector mounted in a cyber-mantle? The giveaway is the slithering sound you still make when you move. I'm—'

'I know who you are – Doctor!'

The Doctor's eyes narrowed for a moment. Then he continued, brightly: 'So, now that we've been introduced—'

'You aren't the first Time Agent to try to stop me!' Gharjhax hissed. 'I'm not a Time Agent,' said the Doctor.

'That's what the last one said.' 'But I _am_ going to stop you.'

'That isn't going to happen.' 'Mr Smith' smiled his twisted smile again, and suddenly his gun was back. 'I've seen the future.' He squeezed the trigger.

At the same time, the Doctor activated his sonic screwdriver – and Gharjhax's true shape was revealed in a sickly green flash.

His cybernetic mantle was damaged. It was hissing, spitting, sparking – and an electrical crackle shot along the flexible connecting tube to his blaster. The weapon exploded, taking Gharjhax's mechanical right hand with it.

He reeled in horror. 'What did you _do_?'

'Design flaw on the Mantle 5000,' said the Doctor, almost apologetically. 'Loosen the right screws and you can short-circuit the control board, which—'

He broke off as Gharjhax released a chilling howl and lolloped towards him. He left a glistening, sticky-looking trail across the cobbles behind him.

The steps to the fire exit door slowed him down. The Doctor clambered up onto the railing and was about to jump when, suddenly, a second giant slug appeared directly beneath him. Its mantle was crackling too. It was missing a hand.

'Mr Smith, whatever your name is, listen to me,' the Doctor cried, turning from one giant slug to the other. 'I didn't realise – I should have realised – but your vortex manipulator is wired up to your mantle. It's—'

The first slug barged him into the brick wall behind him, winding him. The Doctor struggled desperately against it, but was pinned by the monster's sheer bulk.

Then, suddenly, the monster vanished – to reappear, I deduced, a few feet away and a few seconds ago – and the Doctor was freed, gasping for breath.

The remaining Gharjhax was gasping too.

His mantle was wreathed in coruscating energy, which was evidently causing him some pain. It was also discharging bolts in every direction. Martin and I recoiled as one struck a bright blue bin in front of us, erasing it from existence – at least, from present existence – and, Dear Diary, that wasn't even the worst of it.

The energy was clawing holes in the very air. The rifts opened for a second, two seconds at a time, and through them I caught glimpses of the vortex itself and had to turn my face away from it. 'Where are you, Martin Flint?' I murmured.

I heard the Doctor pleading: 'You have to let me close enough to repair—' 'No, get away from me!'

'You don't understand what—'

'You did this to me! You!' roared Gharjhax.

'The storm. You must have noticed the storm. It was raging long before I came along. You did that.

Hopping into the future and back to make a profit – you punctured the space-time vortex like a colander. I can fix this, if you—'

' _Die, Doctor, die!_ '

'I heard that,' Martin Flint – the one beside me, the wrong one – breathed. I didn't grasp his meaning at first. 'I was here,' he said, more urgently, 'when they said all that – the first time. I was _here_.' And, Dear Diary, my heart froze.

We squinted past the bursts of vortex energy and the rips in the air, at the car park entrance – the empty car park entrance. 'I should be here,' insisted Martin. 'I should be standing right there. _Where am_ _I?_ '

The Doctor had vaulted the railings, dropping onto the cobbles.

He danced around his enemy. He was trying to get close to him, but was repeatedly rebuffed by sparks of energy or thrashing mechanical arms.

He saw an opening – so he thought – and made a dive for it. Gharjhax's remaining cyber-hand caught him by the throat. The Doctor fell to his knees, trying desperately to speak, only able to wheeze and splutter. The giant slug's red eyes bulged out of his feelers, as his metal fingers tightened… and tightened…

'It's going to kill him,' squealed Martin. 'You have to do something!'

It took all the self-control I had to shake my head. 'I wish I could, Martin,' I said, 'but I can't. It can't be me.'

The Doctor had sent me here. He hadn't dared cross his own time stream. If I interfered directly in his past, however – that was almost as bad. Like Martin, I'd be altering the events that brought me here in the first place.

If I had to, I would do it and hang the consequences!

I had had a better idea, though. Dear Diary, it wasn't a very _nice_ idea…

I turned to face Martin. I placed my hands on his stooped shoulders. 'Martin Flint saved the Doctor's life,' I reminded him. 'That's the way it happened – and the way it has to happen, if history is ever to be repaired.'

'But he… he isn't here!' Martin protested.

I looked him firmly in the eyes. 'Yes, Martin, he is.'

It took a second for comprehension to dawn on him. A succession of emotions crossed Martin Flint's eyes in a second. Horror came first, then fear, then resignation and finally – sooner than I had expected, to give him due credit – resolution.

Martin shifted his gaze back to the desperate struggle.

He was watching and waiting for his moment, the right moment – the _same_ moment. Everything had to be exactly as it had been before.

Did he truly understand what he was about to do? I still wonder. A normal man would have choked to death by now.

The Doctor's face was red and his eyes had glazed over.

Martin Flint made his move. He broke cover and shoulder-charged Gharjhax, with his battered leather briefcase raised between them like a shield. He broke his deadly grip on the Doctor and sent him reeling.

Gharjhax collided with the back wall of his own building. He must have dislodged something in his mantle – because, with one final pop and a puff of smoke, it died. The giant slug crumpled to the ground, unconscious or dead.

Martin was reeling too. The last tear in the universe gaped open beside him, hungrily, and he couldn't help himself, he stumbled into it. In a heartbeat, he was gone, and the tear sealed itself behind him – as if neither of them had existed.

The Doctor was back on his feet already, screwdriver in hand.

'No,' he moaned to himself. 'No, no, no, no.' He dropped into a crouch beside the prostrate Gharjhax and scanned him. He took a deep breath and let it go.

'You can come out now,' he said, quietly.

I stepped out from behind the bins. 'Hello, Sweetie.'

'River Song. Why is it that, whenever there's an existential threat to the universe of time and space, you always seem to be involved?'

'Actually, I've just done you a huge favour. How is he?'

'He'll live. I'll give UNIT a bell. They can send a team to collect him within fifteen minutes. So, if I call ten minutes ago…'

The Doctor stood. He turned to face me. 'I'm more concerned about your friend – what was his name? He just stumbled into—'

'—a vortex rift. Yes. He'll have been thrown back in time. Somewhere between eight and ten hours.

Someone should find him.'

He gave me a quizzical look. I responded by raising my finger to my lips. He knew what that meant.

For the second time today, however, the device on my wrist betrayed me. 'Nice bracelet,' said the Doctor. 'It looks familiar.'

'Clever boy.'

'I suppose we have an appointment, then.' 'I suppose we do.'

'Can I offer you a lift?'

I shook my head. 'I have to tie up some loose ends of my own – but once that's done, we have a date. On Temple Beach.'

His face contorted in dismay. 'I didn't agree to that – will I?'

'I thought we'd skip that part, save time.' I smiled sweetly. 'Did I mention, it was a _really_ huge favour?'

The Doctor looked up at the roiling sky. The electrical storm was still rumbling and flashing, full force. 'Oh, OK, fine,' he acceded, with bad grace, 'but I'll tell you now, I'm not wearing the thong – again.'

He turned to leave – and the pair of us froze in our tracks.

A figure had appeared at the car park entrance: a man in his mid-to-late forties, his shoulders slumped. He wore a crumpled grey suit and carried a battered brown leather briefcase. The Doctor frowned at him. 'Isn't that…?'

I hurried up to the new arrival. 'Martin Flint.'

He took my proffered hand, uncertainly, still trying to look past me at the monster slumbering on the cobbles. 'Um, yes, I… I'm here for an interview with Mr Smith, but I'm a few minutes late, there was a problem with—'

I slipped my arm around his shoulders. I steered him firmly around, back out onto the street. 'Martin, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you…'

So, this is how it happened in the end.

Martin Flint left his basement flat in the London suburbs at 10.45 a.m. He had to call in at his office for a couple of hours. That afternoon, he had an interview with a new but promising business based on Great Russell Street.

At the office, he received a phone call from his bank, telling him his account had been emptied. In a fluster, he left to deal with it.

I imagine that entailed a long meeting with his bank manager or customer services representative. No doubt, he was promised a thorough investigation. His life savings, however – almost £1500 – may have been gone for good.

No wonder he lost track of time!

He arrived for his interview late, and no one answered the door. He went around the back of the building, where he encountered a pair of strangers. They informed him that Dead Cert Investments had been unexpectedly liquidated. Martin's contact there – a Mr Smith – had left the country.

He also noticed a giant, green alien slug, sleeping in the car park. I expect he tried not to think too hard about that.

He had left his briefcase at work. Another shock was waiting for him when he went to collect it. A giant, green alien slug had threatened his co-workers, looking for him. More perplexing yet must have been said co-workers' insistence that Martin had been here shortly after the attack – and taken his case away with him.

By now, he must have wondered about his mental health.

Returning home, he found his flat in a terrible mess. The only things missing, though, were a few clothes from his wardrobe – in exchange for which a pair of striped hospital pyjamas were strewn across his bed.

Two men from the Unified Intelligence Taskforce were waiting to speak to him. He spent most of the evening trying to answer their questions, likely ending up none the wiser himself.

So, that was Thursday July the seventh 2016. A bright, warm summer's day with crystal-clear blue skies. A bad day for Martin Flint.

Friday was rather better.

On Friday morning, Martin found his briefcase sitting outside his front door. His missing shirt, suit trousers and socks were folded on top of it. His files of vital paperwork were undisturbed inside its compartments, alongside his phone – and something else. A betting slip, filled out in his own handwriting.

He handed the slip in at his local bookies, tentatively, fearing a hoax – and found himself some twenty thousand pounds richer. He had enough money to repair the damage to his flat and more beside.

You're right, Dear Diary, the Doctor probably wouldn't approve. On the other hand, who's ever going to tell him? Anyway, I happen to know he's scooped a few lottery jackpots himself. As I said – a real stickler for the rules, when it suits him.

Martin deserves that money.

He deserves it because, somewhere, some-when, another Martin Flint – and don't ask me where he came from, because there's no simple answer to that question – is trapped in a perpetual time loop.

Every day for him is Thursday July the seventh. Every morning, he wakes up shivering in a car park, his memory in shreds. Every afternoon, he stumbles into a rift in time, which sends him back to the start again.

Every day, he bets his life savings on a horse. Every day, he is snogged by a stranger outside his flat and attacked by a giant, green alien slug. Every day, he makes the bravest decision anyone could ever make.

And every day – every single day of his now-immortal life – Martin Flint saves the universe.

Death in New Venice Guy Adams 1

You have to love Venice, it's the law.

Of course, it depends on the year. If you make the mistake of visiting during the late twentieth or early twenty-first centuries, you're going to have to squint a bit. The crowds, the floods, the corpulent tourists taking selfies with busking violinists… The Gondoliers, singing any old tosh in an Italian style to appease couples whose approach to romance is to throw money and cliché at it. (I once watched a Gondolier hammer out Tom Jones tunes, his face empty, his customers entranced, as if 'Delilah' might, perhaps, just _possibly_ have been written by Verdi.)

These are the fast-food moments. The compromises. This is what happens when a place is forced to sell off a piece of its soul in order to keep the money rolling in. After all, you have to keep the lights on somehow.

But one of the main advantages to time travel is that you can shop around. Take the late fifteenth century, for example: it smells worse but it has class. It also has a fairly libertarian attitude ( _love_ a libertarian attitude). I mean, yes, after a lovely couple of days pottering I did end up being chased by the Doge's guards but, fair enough, I had broken into the palace, so they were only doing their job. But then, so was I, something I had to explain to Docherty on what seemed like a daily basis.

'Professor Song,' he'd say, 'please, just do your job.' But we'll get to him later.

So, yes, I had to take a closer look at the Doge's Palace, because… Well, we'll get to that later.

Anyway, I was having a fine old time, mooching around the corridors, eyeing up the paintings, having a cheeky tasting in the wine cellars, all in the name of honest research. And yes, I'll admit getting caught in the Doge's bedroom was awkward for all concerned, but I simply had to try his sheets and, give me some credit, I've done worse, at least the Doge wasn't in the room at the time. And yes, trying to gather up my clothes while soldiers were waving swords at me was something of an irritation (but you simply don't appreciate good cotton unless you feel it next to your skin). And yes, I do think the Captain of the Guard was overreacting a bit when he tried to brain me with a decorative axe but, live and let live, it was a startling five minutes for all of us and I'm sure he's probably an absolute poppet when not being thrown through the air by a partially clothed woman.

I kept my calm and didn't let the situation distract me from my research. I even took the time to appreciate and memorise the delightful stained-glass window that looked out over the Grand Canal. I'll admit I did then smash it with the aforementioned decorative axe but when a girl needs an exit she does what she must. There was a simply spectacular sunset that evening, I noticed as I let gravity have its wicked way with me. I remember thinking more people should be looking at it but then, I suppose, a woman flying through the air can be quite distracting.

There is only one truly acceptable perspective from which to appreciate the Grand Canal: being on the _outside_ of it. I have showered four times since that dive and still smell of all the things you wouldn't want to smell of that can be found in canals. It's moments like this that make me wonder if DreamInc are paying me enough.

DreamInc, yes, let's talk about them a little, shall we? After all, everyone else does. Set up in the late twenty-seventh century (Earth Standard) by a pair of benign young space hippies, all Quinoa and beards, it was supposed to be the ethical, socially conscious travel company. Low eco-impact holidays for the overpaid professional who wanted an extra side order of smug with their vacation. It was sweet, in its own way, and I have no doubt that its original founders meant well, right up until they

were offered an amount of money for the company that would rival most planets' GDP. At that point they shaved off the beards, banked the cash and retired to a particularly shiny corner of the universe to spend it in exciting, exhausting ways.

The current owner of the company is a corporation run out of Krellane, that damp, crustacean- packed planet most famous for its arms manufacture. Which, you know, is life and I'm not going to add to the considerable journalistic backlash that already exists. Hippies sell out, money talks. _Plus ça change…_

Besides, they're my current employers, and Section 87, Paragraph 112 of my contract stipulates that if I so much as raise a sardonic eyebrow as to the integrity of the company I'm in breach of terms and, as much as I love raising eyebrows, sardonically or otherwise, I'm not going to blow four million credits on it, even here in a private diary.

Luckily my contract makes no such stipulation when it comes to discussing the company's employees so let me state for the record: the DreamInc Executive Manager I've been dealing with, Milton Docherty, is a creep, and merely glancing at him makes my reproductive organs hide to the left of my kidneys for fear I might accidentally allow his DNA to propagate. This would never happen, they should trust me, but I can understand their refusal to take unnecessary risks.

At some point, someone once told him that a ponytail was attractive, possibly as a joke. Failing to see the funny side, he's had one transplanted and the result coils around his neck in a way that would only be acceptable were it throttling him.

He wears suits made from that horrendous Strackian silk that changes colour in order to complement its surroundings. As he's currently spending much of his time on a building site this means he's wandering around wearing a half a million credit bag of cement.

He has two ways of shaking people's hands. If you're a man he attacks you, desperate to prove how strong his grip is. If you're a woman he lingers, as if hoping you forgot to compile your body correctly that morning and you've accidentally put a far fruitier part of yourself where your palms ought to be.

Basically: he's just awful.

Perhaps I'm being unfair, there must be something good I can say about him. Oh yes, he had the good sense to employ _me_. Maybe he just likes shaking my hand.

He's working on the final stages of DreamInc's new business venture, an exclusive housing project called New Venice. When finished (which it will be in a matter of a few weeks) it will be a gated planetary community aimed at the sort of people who are so rich they'll barely bother to live there, just as they don't in all of their other exclusive homes. A half-empty, shiny collection of houses so technologically advanced they're only a couple of nudges away from sentience. It will be horrible, but being employed to help design it will have paid my bills for the foreseeable future so I care not one jot. I am not an arbiter of Universal good taste, let them do what they want.

DreamInc's trump card is a new invention called WishCrete (oh how I wish they'd stop smooshing words together, it's only charming when you're German). It's… hang on… where's the brochure…? 'An innovation in psychic-active construction technology, an amorphous and pliable building substance initially programmable through focused mental input which will continue to shift long-term as it reflects the desires and thoughts of those in proximity with it.' Which is a rather overblown way of saying you think it into shape. A house that can alter its structure depending on its residents' desires. Because that can't possibly go wrong, can it? I look forward to the first domestic argument here at New Venice and the resultant press release that explains precisely why a kitchen beating its inhabitants to a pulp wasn't the legal responsibility of DreamInc.

The WishCrete is also where I come in and why I've been having so many jolly trips to Venice through the ages, soaking up the atmosphere in general and the architecture in particular. Every

morning I'm wired up to the WishCrete central programming hub and what I've learned is absorbed into its core structure. Of course, DreamInc don't know that I'm getting my information by actually going to Venice, they just think I'm terribly clever and well-informed. Which I am, so should this diary fall into their hands I'd also like to point out that, under Section 34, Paragraph 17, how I go about my research is my business and they can't fire me for it.

On the subject of which, time for me to go and plug in for an hour (any longer and the mental upload provides more information than the WishCrete can process). Nice work if you can get it.

2

Well, that was an interesting morning. And you know that, when I say 'interesting', I mean, 'Oh lord, that's a bit worrying.'

I did my usual upload (paying particular attention to Gothic arches) and then popped over to the canteen for a spot of breakfast. They do a very lovely vat-grown bacon roll (all the pig, none of the guilt) and their coffee is strong enough to defend itself against even the most aggressive palate. I've been chatting on and off to Gloriana, the site construction manager. Her putdowns are hammer blows and her tongue is hacksaw sharp. I once watched her make a lascivious steelworker cry after he made the mistake of hitting on her in the site bar. One look and he was begging for mercy.

'This is not a good day,' she told me as I sat down with my faux bacon and coffee. 'I would like this day to be shot for crimes against me.'

'What's up?' I asked her.

'One of the crews assigned to the east quarter is refusing to work. Union's backing them under the "clear and present danger" clause of their contracts.'

'What's the danger?'

She looked me right in the eyes (stealing a piece of bacon with her left hand, thinking I wouldn't notice, the minx) and said: 'Ghosts.'

'Ghosts?'

'Ghosts.'

Now, this is the sort of thing that requires explanation and I was sure Gloriana would get around to it just as soon as she'd finished chewing the bacon she'd stolen from me.

'It's not the first time someone claims to have seen something,' she said. 'In fact it's been site-wide gossip for the last week or so, ever since one of the workers spotted a woman dancing in the bedroom of the house he was working in.'

'How did he know she was a ghost?' 'They haven't put the floor in yet.' 'Nice moves.'

'I know, right? He ran out of there telling everyone to come and look and, of course, by the time they did, there was nothing there.' She took a sip of my coffee. 'The guy's got a bit of a history with drink so, to begin with, nobody was taking it seriously. Then he upped and left, walked out on his contract because he was too scared to go back in the house. People took him a bit more seriously after that.'

I bet they did. To limit industrial espionage, any worker leaving the site before the completion date is subject to a mandatory mind wipe. Not only do you lose your wages but you lose several months of your life. It's not something you'd do on a whim. I said as much to Gloriana.

'According to a guy he'd made friends with, the mind wipe was one of the reasons he walked, said he couldn't wait to forget about what he saw.'

'A dancing woman? Doesn't seem that terrifying.'

Gloriana nodded. 'Apparently it wasn't just a one-off, though; he _kept_ seeing her. He didn't talk about it because he knew people didn't really believe him but, according to this mate of his, she turned up everywhere after that. In his bedroom while he was sleeping, in the middle of the street, in the damn shower… He said she wouldn't leave him alone.'

'Do we know if he's seen her since?'

She shook her head. 'Company policy, no contact. Right now he doesn't even know he ever worked for DreamInc so none of their people are going to blow that fact by talking to him.'

I finished my coffee before she could do it for me. 'OK, so that's just one man, what about the rest?'

'That's where it gets really freaky. You know what stories are like. After the first guy left, the whole thing turned from being a joke to being something people took seriously. Within twenty-four hours, nobody was admitting they'd ever laughed about it. It was a _fact_. New Venice was haunted. Problem is, looks like they're right.'

Here's what she told me. (I haven't got time for all this damn dialogue, besides I'm paraphrasing like hell, if I could really remember what she said, word for word, my memory would be so brilliant I wouldn't need a diary.)

Next door to the dancing woman we had a small group of children running through the walls. They were seen by an entire work crew, all of whom downed tools and went running as if their souls depended on it (straight to the site bar, naturally).

Then there was an old woman sat in an, as yet unplumbed, bath who appeared to be crocheting. She was seen by someone with a bit more grit. He approached her and tried to touch her. At which point she deposited her crochet needle in his arm and screamed with laughter. By the time he had run to the medical station there was no longer any sign of the needle itself; it had vanished en route. The wound was real enough, though, and bleeding profusely. The doctor claimed said wound was psychosomatic; the man with a limb that was dripping on his shoes said he didn't care as long as the damn thing got stitches.

This upped the ante of the hauntings. Seeing something weird was one thing, being stabbed by it quite another. The east-quarter workers got together and agreed that none of them were happy working on a site where dead women might attack them.

Gloriana was now caught in the middle. DreamInc were demanding she got her crews back to work and the unions were insisting that wasn't going to happen, not until steps were taken to ensure the site was safe. But how did you make a site safe against ghosts? This was a question Docherty was clearly considering when I walked past him on my way back here.

'How much to get a priest here on high-speed shuttle?' he was shouting into his satphone. 'What sort of priest? What do I know? A cheap one!'

Things could be getting interesting.

3

Well, I've had one hell of an afternoon escaping the advances of a lustful baker in 1846. We've all been there. Never compliment a man on his focaccia unless you're absolutely sure he hasn't been single for five years. My trousers are so covered in flour you could bake them into a leg pie.

At least it got me off-site for a bit. Since I last updated the diary, things have taken a turn for the worse.

Docherty got his priest, a rather confused-looking man who claimed to be a representative of the Universal Union of Combined Faiths (business card motto: 'No matter your deity, we've got you covered'). He wandered the east quarter for a morning, chanted a bit, doused a few brick walls with

'holy spirit', a pungent concoction that smelled like the sort of thing you'd enjoy drinking right up until you went blind and couldn't find the plastic bottle it came in any more, and then presented his invoice.

'This building site is clean,' he announced and was about to rubber stamp the walls of the buildings when a DreamInc rep stopped him.

Despite the absurdity of it all, the union agreed (with the extra sweetener of a 0.5 per cent wage increase) to return to work. A few days of construction later, tools were downed once again. Someone else had been attacked and this time it was more serious than a crochet needle in the arm.

Jared Chadwick, one of the onsite architects, had been checking the angles on an underwater terrace designed to accommodate aquatic residents. According to Klepki, a Fractalian marine biologist who was working nearby (they've been gene-splicing koi carp to act as drinks vendors to the terrace visitors… I _know_ ) he was attacked by a figure wearing 'some sort of weird mask'. After Klepki did a sketch, Clever Old Me can confirm the attacker was dressed as the Arlecchino commedia dell'arte character (or Harlequin if you're not as clever and classy as me, which you probably are because I'm the only one allowed to read this diary).

The figure appeared from out of one of the seaweed displays and promptly choked the architect.

When Klepki was asked why s/he didn't help, s/he pointed out that their species were devoutly against physical contact with gender-binary species and to intercede would have gone against centuries of cultural belief. Thanks for that, Klepki; I'm sure the dead man (and, indeed, his grieving family) quite understand.

(I know, I'm sounding bigoted. I'm just cross. I'll try and say something nice to a Fractalian at some point down the line in order to atone, but not just now. Just now I'm too livid.)

A few scared workers is one thing, a fatality is another. I decided I should talk to Docherty and get an idea as to what DreamInc planned to do about it.

'Get your damn hands off me, woman!' was his measured reply. I suppose I did go in guns blazing.

You know me.

'Accidents happen on construction sites all the time,' he insisted, after I'd apologised and promised to cover the cost of repairing his ponytail implant. 'We can't just draw a halt to work because of one unfortunate incident.'

I don't know why I was surprised. The grand opening is only a fortnight away and a late opening will cost DreamInc the sort of money normal sentient beings can't write down numerically without getting bored with all the zeroes. Every day late is a financial apocalypse. It's the sort of money that's so large it's arguably not real any more, theoretical economics, but it carries weight with people like DreamInc and Docherty. In fact it's the only thing that does. Arguing against it is just raging against the wind.

I think even the workers understand that. I give it an afternoon before they're back at work.

4

Chatted to Gloriana again. She looks like she's forgotten what sleep is.

As predicted, DreamInc have thrown money at the union. Their contracts always included a default penalty should work not be completed on time and, while the unions were trying to plead extenuating circumstances, there's no legal precedent for ghosts causing problems on construction sites so that hasn't helped their negotiations. DreamInc have drawn a line in the sand as far as completion is concerned, softening the clenched fist with the addition of a hefty bonus, reliant on schedule.

Basically: 'No, you can't have any more time but we'll pay you a lot of lovely extra cash if you just stop arguing and get on with it.'

The union have accepted. Money talks on every level. The workers need the pay and the bonus is large enough that even the loudest complainants can currently be found swinging hammers like it's a matter of life or death.

Let's hope it's not.

5

Gloriana turned up drunk at my apartment. Which is just the sort of fun thing I normally relish but I was halfway through trying to wash a bucket of pig entrails out of my hair so I wasn't in the most receptive mood.

(The pig entrails were an accident, and the Venetian butcher was terribly apologetic… I think. It was hard to hear him clearly with the bucket on his head.)

I stuck Gloriana in the living room to drown herself in coffee while I untangled a piece of porcine lung from my fringe. By the time I was in a fit state for visitors she'd passed out behind the sofa so I left her a note saying I'd be back in a bit and popped off to do my hour's upload.

Have I told you about the upload? Why am I asking you? YOU'RE A BOOK. (A brilliant one written by a genius.)

This is how it works:

The central programming hub is a surprisingly small room beneath New Venice. (All of the maintenance areas are underground; rich people don't like seeing behind the scenes, they prefer to think the lights stay on by magic.) It's run by Viola, a sweet if slightly strange woman who is clearly terrified of people. She has that nervous twitch found only in the habitual Infonet user. To her, people should be lines of text on a forum page, emotions expressed by gifs, not something so raw and terrifying as a facial expression. In real life, smiles are just something filled with teeth. She's got used to me by now, of course, less likely to hide behind the upload array and occasionally even makes eye contact.

I've had fibre ports surgically installed, which freaked me out just enough to add another decimal point to my bill but are actually no big deal. The neural cabling is so thin it's like having a spray of high-tech acne at the base of your skull. I'll probably keep them; wetware's pricey so it's a bit of a bonus having them installed at no charge.

(Another advantage of time travel is that your gadgets never date unless you want them to. If I had to exist in a linear universe, six months of technological advancement would render these implants the equivalent of having a gramophone dumped in my cerebellum. As it is, I can plunder this moment of being cutting edge to my heart's content.)

Viola, after laughing nervously at nothing for a bit, wires me up and gives me a drink of something foul and salty that's supposed to boost the electrical charge in my body. The synapses, now given a bit of extra fizz, make better connections and upload speed is improved. For half an hour afterwards my hair will be dancing of its own accord and I'll be getting static shocks off everything I touch.

Now plugged in, Viola flips a switch and the connection between my brain and the WishCrete is open. It's like having the heavy weight of drunkenness draped over you instantly without all that fun time spent drinking fruity liquids. It's like a chainmail duvet plonked on your face.

Once the site is open, the WishCrete will operate directly with the residents and without all of this intimacy but then its response will be more vague. It will respond only to particularly strong emotions, and not (they hope) in such a profound, dramatic fashion. When I think of Venice, those thoughts are transmitted through the implants, the very soul of the place then written through the fabric of the WishCrete like the name of an awful seaside town through sweet rock. Not just the

architecture, the cold but beautiful maths of arches and courtyards, but the _feel_ of the place, the spirit of every street and water-lapped brick. New Venice will have its mother's heart.

That's why, in every session, while I do focus on specific details, individual buildings and streets, I also try and immerse myself in the atmosphere of Venice. I try and tell the WishCrete what it is to actually be there. You might think such subtle distinctions would be beyond such new technology, but walking through the newly minted walkways and sailing along the chemically safe canals it's honestly not bad at all. I'd go as far as to call it quite nice, in fact.

There are only two things that would stop me from living in New Venice once it's built: I couldn't afford it, and I'd hate to be trapped here with those few who could.

The whole business is painless. The only side effect seems to be a kind of dreaminess, a sense of disconnection from reality that lasts about as long as the static charge. I'll be wandering home with my head in the clouds, feet feeling like they're a hair's breadth above the ground.

When I finish, Viola gives me a saline wipe to swab away at the connections and another horrible drink, this one sweet enough to make your teeth shiver. It's disgusting but it sweeps up after a hangover like nobody's business, so today I took a bottle to give Gloriana on my return, knowing she'd love me for it.

She did. In fact by the time she'd gagged her way through a glassful she was almost human and I no longer had to worry about the possible fate of the carpets.

'Fun morning?' I asked her. 'It's morning?'

The night before had seen the worst accident yet, and the ghost sightings had spread from the east quarter. A team had been working on the recreation of Piazza San Marco, working alongside the morphing WishCrete to ensure the street lamps had the right aged look. One of the cybernetic wranglers had been releasing the automated pigeons to perch on the rooftops when they'd turned on him. It turned out to have been software failure rather than anything spooky but that was little consolation to him as he was pulled into beak-sized chunks and sprinkled over the Grand Canal.

The rest of the team had panicked and then, in the chaos, the bigger disaster had struck: the square flooded. Water crashed, seemingly from nowhere, and whisked the entire crew around the square. The only reason Gloriana was safe was that she'd been dangling from a lamppost at the time, trying to fix a faulty gasreplication jet. She hung there, clinging to the iron like a bear on a tree, watching as the dirty water slammed her men from one side of the square to another. While many of them had tried to swim clear, the tide was too strong and they were flung helplessly in whatever direction the water chose.

The whole thing lasted four minutes, then the water vanished as impossibly as it had first appeared.

Everything was dry, the only sign of the flood were the bodies of thirty-two construction workers, scattered across the stone like driftwood, dry but puffy, shocked faces pressed into the ground. Some were lodged in railings or windows, some swept into the canal itself where they floated face down amongst the sprinkled remains of the cybernetic wrangler, bobbing up and down on the false tide caused by the underwater wave machines.

The waterways team have sworn the situation was nothing to do with them (and the fact that the water vanished leaving everything bone dry rather backs them up). DreamInc refuses to accept their assurances, mainly because the only other explanation is that a whole crew died by a ghost of a flood and even the union is terrified to accept _that_ as a concept. Rationality is funny. People will accept a ghost if it's a mad knitter but not if it's an entire flood. As if scale makes all the difference.

Not that I'm saying it was a ghost in the traditional sense of course, because I'm a rationalist too, but one who has seen enough of the universe to roll with the punches. Whatever this is that's

happening – and let's be honest it's not difficult to piece together – it needs addressing not denying. Of course, nobody wants to do it.

Except me.

6

'You need to deactivate the WishCrete.'

Docherty looked at me as if I'd gone mad. Actually, _madder_. I'm pretty sure he already thinks I'm mad anyway.

'WishCrete cannot simply be deactivated, Professor Song. It's psychic-active properties are baked into its very fabric. It's also one of the main draws to the future inhabitants of New Venice, a feature that they are paying considerably for. So tell me, why would I want to turn it into bog-standard concrete?'

'Because it's obviously killing people.'

I couldn't believe I was having to explain this. '"Obviously"… That's an interesting use of the word.'

'People are seeing things,' I said. 'Images coming out of thin air around them. These images are causing psychosomatic injuries and death. If only there were an explanation, here in this building site packed full of a psychic-active substance that we know can shift and alter the surroundings based on the mental input of others.'

'You really think people are imagining themselves dead?' he asked. 'How does that make sense?' 'People don't just imagine _good_ things you know,' I told him. 'Trust me, I'm looking at you this

very minute and what I'm imagining happening to you is not, by any definition of the word, _nice_.'

He was about to say something he'd regret so I took pity on him and stopped him by carrying on speaking:

'Say the first sighting was actually a mistake. The man who saw the woman dancing. Maybe he was delusional, maybe he _was_ drunk. But once he talked about it, the story spread, the concept grew.

People began to think the place was haunted and that they'd see ghosts. Their expectation becomes reality thanks to the properties of WishCrete. It picks up on it, alters New Venice to fit people's expectations. _It does its job._

'Then somebody wonders if these "ghosts" can actually hurt them. Lo and behold, no sooner has that idea been thought it becomes a reality. But wait, thinks the next person… If it can hurt, maybe it can _kill_ … And _boom_ , now it can. The WishCrete is constantly reflecting the dominant thoughts of everyone here. You've created a substance that responds to mental stimuli; it's not capable of distinguishing good thoughts from bad. You start being convinced something awful is going to happen and it's happy to oblige.'

I let him get a word in, just to show willing.

'So you're saying it's only happening because the working crews think it's going to? That doesn't make the remotest sense. You think someone out there decided the square was going to flood so it did?'

'The square used to flood all the time,' I explained (though in truth not in quite such a dramatic manner, though he wouldn't know that any more than the workers who had been onsite at the time). 'All it took was one person to think about that. "Just imagine," they think, "what it would be like if you were stood here and this whole place flooded." The minute that thought's out there…'

'Rubbish,' he said, proving how pointless that entire conversation was.

7

I talked to Gloriana today about my theory. Unlike Docherty, she didn't argue with a word of it. Of course she didn't – she has a fully functioning brain.

Not that it matters. The 'accident' in the square has been blamed on the waterways team, the head of which has been fired and construction continues regardless. New Venice opens in five days, and DreamInc has no intention of letting anything as annoying as a potentially catastrophic design error get in the way of the fact.

I've got two choices, presented to me succinctly by Docherty:

I leave now, defaulting on my contract and incurring the financial penalties of that. (Like I care. Unlike some, I'm not so cold as to trade off the health of my bank balance against the loss of innocent life.) I will also receive the contracted mind wipe. Which means I won't know about any of this. It'll play out without my involvement.

I retain my position and shut my mouth (otherwise I'll be fired, see option one).

What choice have I got? If I leave here, voluntarily or otherwise, it won't save any lives. This whole mess will just become something I later read about in one of the news feeds, not knowing I might have been able to help.

If I stay, pretend to be a good girl, I might be able to do something. Might.

How I hate my life sometimes.

8

Two days to the grand opening. I actually had a fashion team visit the house and measure me for a frock. I suggested it be made in pine with brass handles but the joke went over their heads somewhat.

DreamInc has a whole events team in place, charged with recreating a Venetian Grand Carnival, fancy dress, parades, masked balls, fireworks, just the sort of thing that goes down a storm with a bit of mass slaughter.

All of the housing plots are sold, their owners being ferried in between now and then. DreamInc have tried to keep people out right up until the last minute but even they can't win an argument with customers capable of buying out their entire genetic line and having it scrubbed. So a few people have moved in already.

I saw a ridiculously ostentatious speedboat belting up and down one of the canals this morning. It was driven by a child, screaming her enthusiasm with every wave. Just for a second I found myself wondering what might happen if she bounced too high and hit her head on one of the low bridges. I had to stop myself. If I was right – and I am – I could have _made_ it happen. One stray thought and a bridge could have squatted down and clipped her off above the neck as I watched.

A Romanadi couple have moved in up the road from my apartment, I can see them now. He's stood on his balcony, looking at the view while inside his husband is arguing with a drinks mixer.

Apparently the vodka isn't cold enough. Poor poppet.

I've now closed my window before I think anything too uncharitable in their direction. Two days. Two days and then this place will be full.

I think the panic of the deadline has focused people actually. Determined to get their bonuses, wishing everything would just go right, no more mistakes, no more delays, just a clean, perfect build. There have been no more accidents. Hooray for the power of positive thought. Once everyone's turned up that'll change. That tunnel vision will widen out and who knows what will happen? Nothing good, unless I can think of a way to stop it, which, right now, I can't.

9

Gloriana's gone. Apparently she was shipped out in the night after getting into a bust-up with Docherty. She couldn't stand by and let this happen so she kicked up a fuss and is now lying in a medical centre somewhere, post-mind wipe, wondering what she's been up to for the last six months.

Gloriana was disposable.

I know Docherty wants to keep me around; I'm something else to waft in front of his rich clients. I'm the highly regarded (shush) expert DreamInc hired at great cost to get everything right. I'm to be shown off like a gilt tap or a particularly breathtaking water feature. He actually asked me to make a speech at the opening ceremony. I told him not to push his luck.

Gloriana was just an employee. Firing her has saved them money and he'll have done it with a smile, the odious toad.

I've taken a look at my contract and the minute the place opens the particularly troubling clauses evaporate into air. Effectively, my employment with DreamInc stops the minute the doors officially open. After that, they can't fire me, mind wipe me or threaten me in any way. I'll be free.

One day to go.

10

The opening ceremony.

Sigh…

Nobody died, let me make that quite clear. Though the day is young, so don't breathe out just yet.

I'm taking a breather in nineteenth-century Florence because I just had to get out of there for a minute. (Another advantage of time travel: when you really need some space you can put down your champagne, walk off for five years and then go straight back before your drink's so much as lost its chill.)

I suppose it was impressive, if you've never seen a Fellini movie. The canal was filled with huge, decorative, floating grotesques. Barges designed to look like fish, fireworks erupting from their gills at every opportunity. Those residents not already in situ were inside them, ferried from the spaceport to the main island. The barges were moored up alongside the Rialto Bridge and shoals of mechanised fish filled the water so that the passengers could walk to dry land on their softly carpeted backs. Once ashore, the pampered residents were on dry land for all of five minutes, presented with their welcome packs (which included, I kid you not, a complimentary boat), their carnival costumes and their house keys, and then dumped back on the canal again as they were taken on a gondola ride around the city.

I had tried to avoid that but Docherty made it clear I was to join an aged couple who had specifically asked to meet me. As New Venice wasn't officially declared open for another hour, I had little choice but to clamber on board and put on my very best fake smile.

Quite _why_ the couple wanted to meet me was never entirely clear. They certainly never asked anything about me. They had made their money salt mining the Prentiss Cluster and took every opportunity to mention the fact.

'People always want salt,' the wife said, while readjusting her beauty spot from one cheek to another, 'as I told darling Ludovic when we first met.'

Darling Ludovic didn't say much, just stared at my chest and tried to stop his jodhpurs riding up to expose his surgically repaired knees. I think Darling Ludovic lives in fear of his wife, as well he might.

'I suppose this place is acceptable,' she said, tearing her eyes away from her make-up mirror for a couple of seconds. 'I just hope it's secure.'

You and me both, I thought. 'The security protocols at the spaceport are terribly strict,' I assured her. 'You can't even land here if your bank balance isn't large enough.'

'Quite right,' she said, adding another dollop of foundation. 'People don't understand how we _suffer_. It's such a burden being wealthy, simply everyone wants a piece of you. Darling Ludovic is constantly besieged. People resent it, you see. The universe does so hate success, and the proles will try and tear you down. You ask anyone.'

I checked my watch. Still forty-five minutes before I could be honest. 'It must be awful,' I said.

'It is,' she nodded. 'I just hope we've finally found somewhere where we can relax.' I really had nothing to say to that.

Gondola trip done, everyone was gathered in Piazza San Marco (with all of the staff pretending very hard that more than thirty people hadn't died there a few days ago). More fireworks were lit, champagne corks popped and, with a longwinded speech that tested the endurance of all in attendance, Docherty declared New Venice open.

At which point I ran away, no longer employed, to have a bit of a think.

It's the old rich woman in the gondola I keep returning to in my mind, realising that all rich people think the same way: 'The proles will try and tear you down.'

That is not a thought she wants to have in New Venice because, sooner or later, it will prove her right.

11

It was sooner.

I dropped back in on New Venice about five minutes after I'd left and the screaming had already started.

The opening ceremony had been the cue to commence the carnival, the streets filling with a laid-on procession that the new residents would now join, making their way through the city and returning to the square, by which time it would have been laid up for a banquet with some godawful Croxian Opera offered up as pudding.

They didn't get that far.

The procession arrived in the square and, at its head was the Arlecchino, immediately recognised by the Fractalian who, despite their discomfort at being around binary-gendered life forms, was, by all accounts, having a simply marvellous time with a bottle of French brandy.

The events manager, a wonderfully shrill octopod with a determination to make the word 'frabjous' cool by repeating it endlessly, was understandably confused. She hadn't booked that many revellers in the procession, just a handful of android performers designed to get the party mood started. Staring at the endless ranks flooding into the square, twirling their banners and dancing along the cobbles she was heard to say, 'That's _so_ not frabjous' before the bloodletting began.

The first to fall was a young man from Alcapha who, I'm informed was a famous pop star in his galaxy. The man behind such golden hits as (translated into English) 'Girl, That's My Pseudopod You're Holding' and 'Maybe We Should Just Make Eggs'. Perhaps encouraged by the sound of the marching band, he leaped into the procession and began dancing lasciviously with a woman in a feather headdress and layers and layers of silk and lace. She bit his head off.

Then came a trio dressed in the traditional Plague Doctor masks and black cloaks. Their long, ceramic noses were crimson with blood by the time they'd finished examining the entrails of their unwilling patients.

By the time a swarm of pigeons – not the repaired DreamInc variety but an ethereal, WishCrete creation – began to swoop on the crowds they were already running. Some tried to get back on the boats but the water itself had turned against them, great waves forming open hands that slapped people

away or scooped them up and hurled them skywards. Others ran deeper into New Venice, funnelling themselves through the alleyways leading off the square, desperate to keep ahead of the homicidal revellers that were also dividing off and pursuing them.

Me? I was dangling off one of the palace balconies desperately screaming into my communicator. 'Gloriana! We need you now!'

OK, so maybe I need to go back a bit.

Before returning to New Venice I'd tracked down Gloriana. It wasn't hard: she was widely advertising her availability for work, her CV cluttering up most of the Employment Agency sales feeds from Earth to Galactic Centre. I'd offered her a job.

'Driving?' she'd said. 'I don't do driving. I'm a construction site manager.' 'I know that,' I assured her, 'but I'll make it worth your while.'

It seemed only right that she saw some kind of return on her time at New Venice.

I'd hired one of those huge settlement wagons. You know the kind of thing, designed for transplanting colonies, built like a small moon and loaded with the sort of short-range transmat technology that's terribly useful when landing your ship on a planet's surface is likely to crack it wide open.

You can imagine my relief then, as the sound of a couple of square miles of displaced air lets me know she's moving into the atmosphere above us.

'River?' Her voice comes through on the communicator. 'You want me to start gathering people up?'

'Lock on to every life sign you can and gather away.' 'On it. You know I can't do everyone at once?'

Even a settlement wagon has its limitations. 'Yeah, just grab people as quickly as you can.'

So, as the air started to fill with the sound of groups of people being transmatted to safety in the troposphere, I climbed into the palace and gave some thought as to how I could get to where I needed to be without dying.

Which is when I discovered that even the buildings bore a grudge.

The walls of the palace reached out to me as I ran towards the ground floor, giant brick fists that wanted to hammer me into paste against the marble and ancient stone. I was truly regretting my rather overblown new frock as I tried to move quickly through a never-ending attack of fixtures and fittings.

I ended up running along the Bridge of Sighs, so named, it's said, from when state prisoners would be marched across it, taking their one last look at freedom before incarceration in the prison on the other side.

I rechristened it en route. During its short lifespan it became the Bridge of Deliciously Inventive Biological Swears.

Perhaps it didn't approve, as it tried to kill me by detaching itself but, as you know, I was starting to make a habit of diving into that damn canal and it would seem that even the processing power of WishCrete had its limitations as I managed to swim to land before anything else tried to kill me.

Access to the maintenance sections was located via a lift in one of the waterbus stations. To get there I had to negotiate my way past a herd of masked revellers. They were wearing wide-beaked bauta masks, their fat, gold noses actually twitching as they turned their tricorn-hatted heads towards me.

I had no reason to hope these WishCrete constructions would care if I shot them – after all, they weren't flesh or blood – but I cranked my gun to its highest setting, hoping I could at least cause enough damage to their structure to get past them.

I blew holes out of them as I ran past, their arms liquefying and reaching out to grab me even as I opened their bodies to the air. One of them caught me by the back of my frock but I managed to sever it at the wrist with a shot that also gave me an unwanted haircut.

I was beating off the crawling hand even as I made it to the waterbus stop and inputted my security code for the lift. Always did have a problem with wandering hands.

The lift arrived and, at least for now, I was away from the WishCrete. The maintenance areas were traditional build. WishCrete was expensive (and what value!) and there was no need to construct them with anything but normal materials.

Arriving on the underground level, who should I meet but Docherty.

'Professor Song! What a relief to see you're all right!' He made a fair fist of sounding sincere, but I wasn't interested; a good deal of the slaughter going on above us was his responsibility to bear.

'I thought I should see if I could help down here,' he said, before realising he wasn't creative enough to extend the lie further. There was nothing he could achieve down here because, unlike me, he wasn't built to do what needed to be done.

'How public spirited of you,' I said as we made our way towards the WishCrete central programming hub. 'You can help me if you like.'

'You've got a plan?'

'Oh yes… but first, we need to come to an agreement.'

Even in his panic, his eyes narrowed at that. You could threaten this man with any form of violent death but poke a finger towards his wallet and then you'd see real terror.

'I've employed someone to get as many of the people, including us, to safety as possible.' 'Wonderful.'

'It's cost me a fortune. How about you take this opportunity to take the credit and also cover my costs?'

'What sort of costs are we talking about?'

I told him. He blanched somewhat, and I'm not surprised as I'd doubled my actual expenses so as to build a sizeable pay-out for myself and Gloriana into the equation.

'I'd have to think that over,' he said, breaking out in a cold sweat.

'No time for that, I'm afraid. Here's how it's going to work: today could put DreamInc out of business. Just imagine how many people will be trying to sue in about an hour's time. But if you can convince everyone that plans to get them to safety and deal with the WishCrete problem were yours and already in place, you could come out of all this with a chance of saving your career, even if DreamInc sinks. Just think of all the rich people you'll be able to say owe their continued existence to your quick thinking.'

He thought about that for a moment and then nodded. 'What do I have to do?'

I gave him my bank codes and watched him tap away at his wrist computer as he authorised the transfer. When he was finished and the money sent, I told him to sit down in the corner and not get in my way. It really was the only useful thing I could think of for him to do.

We'd reached the central programming hub by now and, inside, Viola was going spare. 'The whole array is going into meltdown!' she said. 'I don't know how to stop it.' 'Plug me in,' I told her. 'I'll see what I can do.'

That heavy sensation I described before, as the WishCrete made contact, was entirely different this time. While the WishCrete wasn't sentient, it was capable of thought in a limited fashion and the assault on its programming was giving it the technological version of a nervous breakdown. There were so many conflicting emotional inputs. Even as people were panicking they would be hoping to get away safely: a conflict right there. It's a sad fact that most people are inclined towards the negative. However much they may be looking at their horrible circumstances and desperately hoping

they may survive them, their overriding belief will be that they won't. 'I'll probably die of this,' they think, their glass truly half empty. And with that, the conflict is resolved, the loudest voice selected, the WishCrete fulfils their expectations. It kills them, just as they believed it probably would.

But with so many minds, so many voices, the WishCrete was struggling.

It was fortunate that it was still attacking on a one-on-one basis; that bought us time. On the subject of which…

'Gloriana?' I asked, tearing my mind away from the WishCrete for a moment to speak into my communicator. 'How are we doing?'

'A couple more minutes and I'll have everyone,' she said.

A couple more minutes. A lot of people can die in two minutes.

'OK. I need you to hold off on any life signs immediately surrounding mine.' 'What?' Docherty wasn't happy about the sound of that,

'Just until I've done what I needed to do,' I told him. 'We'll be fine, it can't kill us down here anyway.'

'That's what _you_ think,' said Viola, showing us security footage of the entrance to the maintenance level. The lift was opening and a wave of WishCrete was pouring out, channelling itself down the lift shaft and reforming into carnival revellers as it reached the corridor. As I watched, the leader of this awful band, the Arlecchino, looked up towards the camera. He bowed in a pantomime fashion, then his arm elongated and snatched the camera off the wall, killing the feed.

'We need to go now!' said Docherty. 'They'll be here in minutes!' 'Minutes is all we'll need,' I reassured him. 'I'm going back in.'

And I closed my eyes and tipped my thoughts back into the WishCrete. I was its chief source of knowledge, I insisted. I was the great designer, the person who had given it its essential form.

I could feel its reluctance. It couldn't tear itself away from the braying victims above, even as they were vanishing thanks to Gloriana. Perhaps it didn't want to, perhaps it had a little more sentience than I gave it credit for. Perhaps it was actually starting to enjoy itself.

 _Listen_ _to_ _me!_ I insisted. _Your_ _prime directive_ _is_ _for_ _historical_ _accuracy. That_ _is_ _the one_ _rule_ _you_ _mustn't_ _break_. And it hadn't. Even when attacking, it was attacking as historical Venice, it was staying in character. _So_ _there's_ _one_ _more_ _thing_ _you_ _need_ _to_ _know_ _about_ _Venice,_ _one_ _more_ _thing_ _you_ _need_ _to_ _do_ _in_ _order_ _to_ _maintain_ _your_ _accuracy…_

It was starting to pay attention. I guessed that Gloriana had probably got everyone above ground to safety now so my voice was coming through clearer. In the distance (at least it felt like the distance, even though, in reality, it was only feet away) I could hear the sound of someone banging on the door to the central programming room. The carnival had arrived. I was out of time.

 _Just do as you're told!_ I insisted, my final thought before dragging myself back into the real world and the sound of panicking.

'We're trapped!' Docherty was screaming, his back to the door even as it buckled around him. 'Gloriana?' I shouted into the radio. 'Are we clear?'

'Everyone but the three of you in that room,' she replied. 'Want me to bring you up?'

'Two seconds,' I told her, waving at Viola to unplug me from the array. The last thing I wanted was to transmat up with a chunk of cabling still in my skull.

'Quickly!' Docherty screamed as the door finally gave way behind him, sending him tumbling into the room. In the now open doorway Arlecchino walked in, his black and white masked head twitching from side to side, his white-gloved hands flitting in the air like circling doves.

'Clear!' said Viola.

'Now!' I told Gloriana and the air fizzed with the transmat as we left New Venice behind and found ourselves on the bridge of the settlement wagon.

'I thought you'd rather be up here than with the rest of them,' said Gloriana, turning away from the controls to face us. 'They're none too happy.'

'I don't blame them,' I said. 'Can you pick up video from the surface of New Venice?'

She nodded, tapped a few buttons and we watched on the screen as the city toppled, waves of water spuming around the ancient buildings.

'Oh my god,' said Docherty, his face turning white to see the sum total of trillions of credits and months of work vanish right in front of him. 'What did you do?'

'I gave the WishCrete one final order,' I explained. 'I told it an important historical detail I hadn't mentioned before: what happened to the original Venice.'

'What?' He just shook his head, unable to process the cost of what he was seeing. 'It sank,' I explained and went in search of a nice lie down and a drinks dispenser.

River of Time Andrew Lane

The biggest issue a girl has with long-term incarceration on a remote and dismal prison planet is, I've found, the effect it has on her shoes.

I will admit, if pressed, that the food is awful as well, but there are a few planets, moons and space stations near this godforsakenly remote solar system that will deliver a decent takeaway, for an admittedly hefty price (which I usually book to the Governor's personal account without her knowing). Boredom can be a problem, but I've taken it as an opportunity rather than a drawback, and thrown myself into archaeological research. Long distance, of course, but with even with the obsolete holographic technology they have at Stormcage (so archaic it almost counts as an archaeological project in its own right) it's honestly almost like being on site watching the work being done. But not actually taking part, of course. Loneliness can also be a problem here, but the small arthropods that come out of the cracks in the walls at night to forage for food are very good listeners. Sometimes, I've noticed, they even talk back, although when that starts happening I know it's time for an excursion.

Which brings me back to the subject of shoes.

The dampness, the lack of decent closet space and something corrosive in the atmosphere at Stormcage means that anything apart from Wellington boots rots away pretty quickly – and I'm not wearing Wellington boots for any reason. When you have to use your shoe heels as tools for prising the access panels off the robotic warders then you tend to snap a lot of them as well. That's why, every few months, I have to escape from Stormcage to do some serious shopping. After all, a girl has to look her best, doesn't she? One never knows when one might get a visit from one's husband – except, of course, that one is in here in the first place for killing him. Except that nobody can quite remember who he was.

I have a lot of time to think, here at Stormcage. That may not, I have decided, be a good thing. Still, at least the arthropods and I have plenty to talk about.

The Governor is frantic to know how I keep getting out. She keeps losing her annual bonus because of my little escapades. It makes her irritable. I don't know why – I always come back in the end. I actually have a vortex manipulator which I use to get out, but they never find it when they search my cell. Of course they don't – I keep it slightly out of phase with this reality. The remote control that calls it when I need it is small enough that I can hide it inside a scan-worm that I had implanted in my body by a very nice surgeon some years ago. Whenever the Governor has her warders run a scanner over me, looking for things I might be hiding, the scan-worm burrows around my body, getting as

far away from the scanning radiation as it can. It tickles, but I'm a giggler anyway, so nobody notices me acting strangely. Well, no stranger than a woman whose supposedly dead and yet strangely unidentified husband is getting younger while she's getting older generally acts, anyway.

I was all prepared this morning for a little trip out to Kanenda Station, which caters to the most exclusive of clients in this quadrant of the galaxy. I found where the scan-worm was hiding by the simple expedient of feeling all over for it. I don't know what it looked like I was doing to anyone that was watching on the security monitors, but I hope they were enjoying the show. I'd just located the worm and I was pressing the button in its centre section to call the vortex manipulator to this reality when the door slid open and three warders rushed in, followed by the Governor herself. The warders had laser guns and neuronic whips, and sensors covering most of the electromagnetic spectrum all over their visored helmets, like a mass of black spikes. The helmets were introduced so that I couldn't drug them with my lipstick, of course, but that's a whole different story. I've acquired a new shade of lipstick with a solvent in it that will eat through anything, but that's another different story.

So many stories, so little time. Isn't that the most perfect definition of life?

Anyway, just as the vortex manipulator materialised on my arm they grabbed me and pulled it off. 'You've chipped my nail varnish,' I protested to the nearest one.

'It's probably poisoned anyway,' the Governor snapped, hands on hips. She has good hair and a reasonable fashion sense, but the humidity here is playing havoc with her complexion. 'Were you going somewhere?'

'Not any more,' I sighed. 'Do you really have to spoil a girl's fun like this? What if I promised to pick out some really nice lingerie for you while I'm shopping?'

'Do you really think you can bribe me with frilly underwear?' she snapped. 'I can bribe anyone with frilly underwear,' I retorted. It's true – I can.

'The ironic thing is,' she said, smiling thinly, 'that you didn't even need to sneak out this time. I was just coming down to tell you that you're going on a little trip.'

'Oh, how fabulous!' I said, but inside I was concerned. I could count on the knuckles of one finger how many times I'd been officially allowed out of Stormcage since I'd arrived, and none of them were pleasant.

I was escorted by the warders up to the Governor's office, which is in a tower that has a panoramic view over the second-most desolate, murky, storm-wracked terrain I've ever seen. (The most desolate, murky, storm-wracked terrain I've ever seen was a place called Canvey Island, on a planet called Earth, in a time that the locals refer to as the 1970s, but that's another story as well.) I've suspected for a while that the tower is actually an escape ship that the Governor can use if there's ever a riot, and I do intend checking that out at some stage, but when I was pushed into her office I was more intrigued by the other person sitting in front of her desk. He had a briefcase by his side.

'Inmate 50243,' the Governor said (we're not on first-name terms, despite my frequent attempts at being friends), 'this is Professor Darin Forcade.'

'River Song,' I said, smiling my best smile and extending a hand. 'Also a Professor.'

'I know,' he said, rising and walking over to me. He was a burly man with a bushy beard that had streaks of grey in it. 'I was very impressed with your paper about the Racnoss ruins on Arcnoy Twelve.'

'I'm flattered,' I said as he bent and kissed the back of my hand. Old-fashioned courtesy – I've always been a sucker for that. And bow ties. 'Equally, I thought your work on the Osiran artefacts found on the remains of their orbital Möbius strip near Arcturus came to some very interesting conclusions. They were wrong, of course, but still very interesting. Wrong is so much more preferable to boring, don't you find?'

He smiled. 'I'd like to retain your services, Professor Song.'

I glanced at the Governor, then back at him. 'I'd love to help,' I said. 'Unfortunately my schedule is a little full at the moment with this tiresome "life sentence for murder" thing. You may have heard about it.'

I saw the Governor grimace out of the corner of my eye. Honestly, she should avoid expressions like that: she doesn't seem to have a good skin-care regime in place, and the constant dampness of Stormcage is making her look much older than she actually is. Unless she's three hundred years old, in which case she's looking remarkably good.

'I understand,' Professor Forcade said. 'But the organisation that runs this facility has granted me a certain amount of latitude. You're the acknowledged expert on the long-extinct precursor races to have evolved in the galaxy. I need your help.'

I felt like a small child at Christmas. 'You've found more precursor ruins! Ooh – tell me more!

Where are they? Which race?'

Forcade raised his hands in a shushing gesture. 'There's time enough on the journey to brief you on everything we found, but you need to know that there's something… unusual… that's been

uncovered at the site. Something that you're uniquely positioned to give an opinion on.'

He glanced over at the Governor. She shrugged, and he walked over to retrieve his briefcase. As he returned he pulled a square of comp-paper from it and shook it open. He handed it to me and stood there, holding his briefcase in front of him like a shield.

What the comp-paper showed was a looped recording lasting a few minutes of several people in dirty coveralls trying to get a door open without breaking anything. The door was metal, but old enough and tarnished enough that it looked like stone. The wall it was set in was featureless, but three things struck me. The first thing was that the door was about five times the size of the archaeologists trying to get it open. The second thing was that someone ought to design a more flattering set of work clothes for archaeologists than the standard beige coveralls they all wear. They must get a bulk discount, but frankly it's not worth it. The third thing was that, judging by the glyphs set into the frame of the door, this wasn't Gallifrey. That was a relief.

I don't know very much about Gallifrey – just the fact that it was home to one of the first civilisations ever to emerge into the galaxy, the legends about it being 'a planet beyond time' and the fact that my husband and the love of my life was born there, but I know, from those legends and from things that he has let slip, that if Gallifrey is ever found then bad things will happen. Fortunately, this wasn't it.

'What strikes you?' Forcade asked.

'The warders here, every few days,' I replied. The Governor coughed. 'But also the size of the door. There aren't many races ever to have evolved in the galaxy that size. It's bigger than the Racnoss!'

'It could just be a large door for ceremonial purposes,' he ventured. I knew he was testing me. 'No,' I corrected him, 'the race that used that door were huge. The control glyph that opens it is

about eighteen feet above the floor.' He frowned. 'Control glyph?'

'The symbol they would have touched to open the door. It's more worn than the rest of them.' 'They're millennia old,' he pointed out. 'They're all worn.'

'Yes, but there's one that's a touch more degraded than the others. Tell your team to push it inwards to release the door. Most precursor civilisations used geothermal energy from the planet's core to power their cities. Assuming the ceramic wiring is still intact, the doors will open and close right up to the moment the planet breaks apart, and given the fact that all the races from those times have gone that's only likely to happen due to natural gravitational stress.'

He nodded reluctantly. 'They did find it, but by accident.'

I love being right, but I didn't have time to revel in it. 'What was inside?' I asked eagerly. 'That's what I want to show you,' he replied. His gaze flickered towards the Governor. 'But not

here. On the planet.'

The Governor couldn't hold herself back any more. 'What's so important about all this?' she demanded.

Professor Forcade glanced at me, and made a small motion with his hand, indicating I should answer.

'Before any of the races in the universe today evolved,' I answered in my best lecture hall voice, 'there were other races. Older races. Archaeologists call them "the precursors". They have all died out by now – some by the natural decay and senescence that afflicts any civilisation, but some because of a series of great clearances that occurred longer ago than anyone can remember.' I felt myself frown, as my old researches surfaced from the depths of my memory. I stopped frowning as quickly as I could. It's simply the worst thing for creating permanent lines. 'It is said that several races joined

together in a coalition to fight against horrors far worse than anything we experience now. This coalition was led by a race from a mysterious planet known only as… Gallifrey.'

My fingers were crossed behind my back, but neither the Governor nor Professor Forcade noticed. '"The Rulers of Time",' Forcade muttered. 'Or perhaps "the Lords of Time" – the records are

unclear.'

'"Lords" is more accurate,' I said quietly, then louder I continued: 'Over an indeterminate amount of time they laid waste to the Racnoss, the Narlok and the Great Vampires, as well as other that we have no record of—'

'Great Vampires!' the Governor scoffed. 'What do you take me for – some kind of idiot?'

'Let's leave that for posterity to judge,' I said smoothly. 'The phrase "Great Vampires" is a loose translation based on several very old texts. You might prefer to think of them as massive humanoid creatures capable of sucking the life from an entire world, and turning its inhabitants into acolytes. Anyway, once these threats were cleared, the coalition fell apart, and the various races that made it up started to turn inwards and decay. They're all long gone now.' Behind my back I was crossing my impeccably manicured fingers again. The Time Lords weren't gone, of course – not all of them anyway – but I wasn't going to go into that now. I tapped the comp-paper. 'Based on these glyphs, I'd say that this planet was occupied by the Qwerm.'

'The Qwerm?' Forcade was looking at me wide-eyed.

'They were, from what I have been able to piece together, a race of philosophers who became through some strange set of circumstances the warrior arm of the coalition. Massive, six-legged, like enormous locusts the size of a large Edwardian steam locomotive, if you know what that is – and as an archaeologist you certainly should – with five separate and interlinked brains capable of rapid parallel tactical and strategic analysis.' I glanced over at the Governor, who was listening to all this in open-mouthed fascination. 'The interesting thing about the precursor races, by the way, was that they were generally much larger than races now. Certainly the Racnoss were very impressive, and the Great Vampires weren't called that because of their art and their music. Nobody knows why they evolved to be so big. I've seen theories suggesting that it has something to do with the fact that some universal physical constant has been slowly reducing with time, but nobody really knows.' I smiled at them. 'The old legends say that the river of time was narrower then, near the source of time, and so the things that swam in it seemed bigger by comparison, but that's just poetic licence. Only the Osirans were about our size.'

'And these mysterious Rulers of Time,' Forcade pointed out.

I rolled up the comp-paper and handed it back to him. 'So – have I passed the test? Do I get to see what's on the other side of this door?'

He nodded, but there was something guarded in his expression. Something that made me feel uncomfortable. 'Yes,' he said.

'Then let's go.'

He glanced from me to the Governor and back. 'Do you need to pack? Does she want to pack?' He seemed confused over who had the authority here. I thought that was quite sweet of him. Obviously, it was me, but he'd only just met me. He'll learn.

'It's OK,' I said. 'I keep a packed bag by my cell door, ready for whenever I want to pop out.'

I could hear the Governor's teeth grinding from ten feet away. She should get them checked out by a good orthodontist. I'll make sure I recommend one to her when I get back.

Professor Forcade's ship is not luxurious. In fact, it's anti-luxurious, if that is even a word. If it isn't, well, I think it should be. It's a battered P-shifter so old that it might just have seen service in the Time Lord campaigns against the Racnoss and the Great Vampires. Maybe he likes it because it is an

antique, or perhaps, being an academic, he can't get funding for anything better. Whatever the reason, I spent most of the journey in my quarters trying to get comfortable on a lumpy mattress while he kept offering me cups of tea, perhaps out of guilt. Fortunately I always pack a bottle of champagne in my travel bag. It's dimensionally transcendental – the bottle, not the bag – and I've never managed to exhaust the very pleasant vintage inside. It never warms up or loses its fizz either. There's probably a thousand years of technological development behind its design, but I don't particularly care about that

I just care that it works. It was the nicest present I have ever received.

I've been going over what little I know about those early Time Lord campaigns. I know that it took them a long time to lever themselves out of their torpor of complacency and initiate the Time War against the Dalek Empire, but back when they were a young race they were a lot more active and a lot more moral ('moral' being a relative term for whatever someone believes is right and are willing to fight for). And they were a lot more willing to get their hands dirty by working with other races. I imagine them as being then a whole race made up of people just like my husband.

The funny thing is that although I know quite a bit about their enemies back then, I don't know very much about any of the races they were working with apart from the Qwerm. I've seen passing references in obscure histories to a race called the Minyans and a planet called Karn, but that's about it. Were the other races in the coalition of the same standing as the Time Lords, or were they just cannon fodder, taken along for the ride? I wish I knew, and the only person I know who does know isn't talking. Well, actually you can't stop him from talking, but he rarely actually says anything.

I've also been wondering about this thing that the Professor wants me to look at – the reason why he came specifically to get me. My self-esteem is high enough that I could power a small world with it for several years, but even I don't think that my fame as an archaeologist is galaxy-wide. So how did Forcade come to pick me?

We arrived at the unnamed planet earlier today. From orbit it looks dusty, like something that's been left on the shelf for a long time. The sun is shrunken and blue, and gives off a harsh, cold light. Even from orbit I could see the partially erased geometry of ancient and decaying cities linked by vast highways and power grids. The Qwerm, being a large race themselves, built big and built to last, but as we came in to land in a huge plaza in the middle of an enormous city I could see that most of the walkways linking the enormous buildings – wide enough and thick enough to support the bodies of the huge, insectoid Qwerm – were broken. Fragments lay in the wide boulevards. The monolithic white buildings themselves were largely intact, but their huge windows had broken long ago, leaving oval holes that seemed to stare at us like thousands of dark eyes. There was no colour anywhere to soften the white of the buildings, the grey of the sky and the black of the weeds, as thick around as the Qwerm themselves, which had grown out of cracks in the ground and spiralled around the towers and the jagged remnants of the walkways.

Professor Forcade bought us down to a shaky landing near a cluster of artificial domes. These were coloured in various shades of red, yellow and blue, making them look against the dusty monochrome landscape like carnival balloons at a funeral. I don't mean that in a bad way, by the way

– I've left strict instructions that my own funeral should last for at least a week and involve balloons, helter-skelters and bouncy castles. Not small ones, mind you. Castle-sized ones.

When he cracked the airlock, and I could smell something apart from my own very exclusive perfume and Forcade's rather emphatic aftershave, I noticed that the planet actually smelled old as well. There was something musty, rusty and probably other words ending with '-ty' that I can't think of at the moment in the atmosphere. It's a smell that all ancient worlds get, after a while. Even if I'd been blindfolded (and I didn't know the Professor well enough for that) I would have known that this planet predated most of inhabited space.

Emerging from the spacecraft, we met with Professor Forcade's archaeological team. There were perhaps twenty of them, but five minutes after they were introduced I could only remember two of their names. One was Paul Markol – a thin man with dark skin, brown eyes and a permanent frown who hadn't bathed for a while. The other was Sonja Toulder: shorter but wider than Markol, with blonde hair and black eyebrows. I've probably met several hundreds of thousands of people over the course of however many lifetimes I've lived to date, and I've discovered that there's no point using up storage space in my brain for their names when it would be more fun and more useful to remember as many cocktail recipes as possible. Everybody, I decided a long time ago, I would just call 'Sweetie' unless for some reason my brain decided to lodge their names in some spot that used to contain the ingredients for a Gumblejack Surprise (which, by the way, is one of the cocktails I don't want to remember).

Both Markol and Toulder looked at me like I might whip a semi-automatic laser out of my clutch bag and gun them down with it. They'd obviously heard about Stormcage. Honestly, if they knew anything about me then they'd know I was much more likely to pull out my bottle of champagne and some party poppers and start the fun. Then use the laser when everyone had passed out drunk.

After the rather tense introductions, the three of them led me across to the huge door that I had seen on the comp-paper back at Stormcage. In context I could see that it was in a ziggurat-like building in the centre of the plaza. It was open now, but the weak light from the sun didn't penetrate far inside.

The vast scale of the opening made me feel small, although for the Qwerm it would have been quite cosy, I suspect.

Spotlights on poles had been placed just inside the doorway. Markol pressed a button on a remote control he retrieved from his coveralls and the lights came on.

I gasped, even though part of me had already suspected what the Professor and his team had found.

In the middle of the shadowy space inside the bunker, like a child's building block in the middle of a dining room, was a blue box. It was about eight feet tall and four feet wide, and it had frosted windows. And a door. And a sign running along the top that said, in white letters on a black background, 'Police Public Call Box'. Another sign, this time black letters on a white background, was placed at chest-height on a door at the front.

As I walked closer I could see that this sign said:

In the event that this box is found, Please return to Professor River Song c/o the Stormcage Penal Facility

Now that I hadn't been expecting.

I had to break off my last entry, because Professor Forcade wanted to have a team meeting, which was cleverly combined with a team meal. The food was tasteless, and the portions were so small as well!

He had to catch up on what had happened since he'd left for Stormcage, and he also wanted to introduce me to the team (I was fabulous, by the way). There was a lot of talk about what they had found, and the fact that my name was on it. I tried to persuade them all that I'm as puzzled by the appearance of the TARDIS, and the fact that it's got my contact details on its front, as they are, but I suspect that some of them think that I'm lying. Markol certainly thinks I am – he glowers at me in a very unfriendly way. Toulder and the other sweeties seem to want to give me the benefit of the doubt.

I did notice some strange little tics that the team displayed, as they sat around the conference table in one of their prefab domes. A lot of them seemed preoccupied with their necks – pulling at their

collars and scratching at their skin. I also noticed that some of them were wearing their coveralls buttoned right up to the neck (it's not a good look, in any culture), and there were indications that the skin underneath was inflamed. I have filed that all away for separate consideration. The Doctor would probably have taken all of the observations and built them into an edifice of truth, but despite the time I'd spent with him, and the fact that I was a child of the TARDIS, I couldn't do what he did. Nobody else in the universe could, I suspect.

Despite my protestations at the staff meeting, I've been racking my brains for reasons why the TARDIS might be here, in the middle of an ancient alien ziggurat on a planet on the neglected outskirts of the galaxy. Has it just arrived, or has it been here for a while? Are my mum and dad here as well? Is the Doctor inside, or is he off exploring? Is it something to do with the ancient campaigns that the Time Lords waged against the more dangerous races of their time, or an accidental conflation of two separate things? Why does pink go with black, but not with navy blue? I realised early on in my life that the universe is full of questions to which I may never get the answers.

Oh, what I didn't mention earlier is that the TARDIS is sitting in a wide circle of some kind of dust. I know I said that the planet itself is dusty, which it is, but this dust is different. It's yellow, and it seems to shimmer in the light of the lamps. If you catch sight of it in the corner of your eye, it almost looks like it's vibrating very slightly. I don't think I've ever seen anything quite like it.

Anyway, it's late now, and I've been awake for quite a while. I think it's time to put the questions to bed and get some beauty sleep. I don't need it, of course – I look fabulous under any and all circumstances – but it's always wise to keep it topped up because you never know when you might run short.

After all, it's not as if I can regenerate my way out of wrinkles any more. I used that little trick up in Nazi Germany in the 1930s. Now all I have to save my looks is good genes and a comprehensive moisturising regime.

Well, this has been a day to remember.

There's something about waking up and finding yourself being carried through the open air by things you can't see that really puts a crimp in a girl's night. Whatever they were, they had my arms, my legs and my neck held tightly, and they were moving fast across the plaza. I couldn't see what they were because I was facing the sparsely starred night sky. There were three moons in sight, but two of them seemed to have been half-destroyed in some ancient attack. The things they were grasping me with felt like claws, and I could hear the clicking of hard-shelled legs against the stone of the plaza.

Groggily, I wondered if I'd been kidnapped by a tribe of large crabs. Obviously, it wasn't the Qwerm. Not unless they had (a) survived when they were supposed to have died out, and (b) got a lot smaller over the millennia. Still the Macra had got a lot larger, so who knows?

My head was muzzy. I had probably been drugged. Something in the food, maybe? I suspect I woke up before I was supposed to, largely thanks to the lipstick I wear. Over the years it's given me a partial immunity to anaesthetics and paralysing drugs.

I heard more clicking from somewhere near. I turned my head, and saw that Professor Forcade was being carried alongside me. He looked confused and outraged at the same time, but I was actually more interested in what was holding him up. It was members of his team. Or, rather, it was their heads.

It took me a few moments to actually work out what was going on. Imagine that someone's head has come off, and sprouted eight glossy black legs and a large set of glossy black claws, a bit like giant crabs, or enormous lice. Imagine them scuttling across the ground, claws held high. Oh, and imagine that on the other side of their heads to their faces, instead of hair, there are now other, alien faces, made up of multiple black eyes and twitching, grasping mouthparts. That's what I was looking at.

Head-lice. The thought suddenly struck me, and despite the fear that was gripping my heart I giggled. Forcade looked at me as if I was mad.

The blonde woman with the black roots – Toulder – was one of the head-lice. She glared at me with eyes from which all the humanity had been drained.

I really hoped that this was a nightmare, but the rapid beating of my heart, the pinching of the claws on my skin and the breeze across my face suggested that it wasn't. Besides, most of my nightmares revolve around me turning up naked to a party, which is funny because many of the parties I go to end up the other way around.

'What's happening?' Professor Forcade shouted.

'We're being kidnapped by giant crustaceans that used to be the heads of your archaeological team!' I called back. I spent three years back on Earth as a management consultant, back when I was young and black. I'm very good at answering people's questions with things they already know, and then charging a fortune for the service.

What do they want?' His face indicated that he was on the verge of panic. 'Us, obviously.'

Raising my head and looking around, I realised that the head-lice were taking us towards the ziggurat in the middle of which the TARDIS was sitting. I knew I had to do something before we got there. I managed to wrestle my right arm free from the claws of one of the creatures. I wiped my fingers across my mouth, then reached down and smeared my lipstick across its black hard-shelled back.

The solvent that I'd recently introduced into the recipe, along with the vivid scarlet dye and the hint of sparkle, only took a few seconds to take effect. It started with a shrill noise from the creature I'd touched, a sound that mixed the worst parts of a scream and a dentist's drill. It suddenly released me and veered sideways, waving its claws frantically in the air.

I reached behind my back like a contortionist (I'm very flexible) and brushed the legs of the creature that was holding my left arm tight with my lipstick-sticky fingers. The creature started to wobble, and I heard a fizzing noise followed by the lovely clatter of its legs falling off, one after the other. It let me go, and with both arms free I was able to wipe my lipstick onto the shells of all the remaining ones. They let me fall to the ground and ran off on random paths. One or two just rushed around in circles. The red lipstick ('Scarlet Sin', I think it was called) fizzed and bubbled on their metal casings. Their human heads were fixed in expressions of agony, and their black-lensed eyes seemed to be staring in horror.

I went to rescue the Professor, but the head-lice carrying him dropped him to the ground and fled. 'Thank you!' he gasped.

'They should count themselves lucky I haven't got any blusher with me,' I responded. Grabbing his arm I started running towards the ziggurat.

'That's where they were taking us!' he cried, pulling away.

'I know,' I said, 'but it's defensible, and besides – don't you want to see what they were taking us to do?'

He was gazing back over his shoulder in shock. 'I don't understand any of this. What happened to them? What do they want from us?'

'Priorities, Professor – answers can come after survival,' I said firmly, 'and we haven't assured our survival yet. Now come on.'

We ran into the shadows, towards the TARDIS. I turned and looked at the glyphs carved into the frame of the doorway on the inside. There, about twenty feet from the ground, was the one that closed the door. I scrambled up, using the outsized lower glyphs as ledges for my hands and feet, and threw

my weight against the control one. It slid in a few inches and lit up with a flickering orange light, and the door ponderously closed, leaving us in darkness.

I found my way by memory to where the TARDIS stood. As I got closer, the light on top flickered hesitantly into life. It knew me.

I pushed against the door, and it swung open with a creak.

Professor Forcade appeared at my shoulder. He gazed into the TARDIS's interior in wonder and terror.

The first thing I realised was that this wasn't the Doctor's TARDIS, despite the out-of-place exterior appearance and the sign on the door. He changes the look as often as I change my hairstyle, and for pretty much the same reasons, but he has a certain brooding, gothic style and I could tell that this wasn't one of his designs.

The entrance opened onto a stairway that went upwards, through the space also occupied by the roof and the blue light. The stairs were made of white marble with rose-coloured inclusions: a classic style that never looks old, I've found. Professor Forcade started burbling. I squeezed his hand in reassurance.

'I know – it's impossible,' I said as I closed the door behind us to keep the head-lice things out. 'Get over it.'

There were seventeen steps leading up to an opening in the floor of… something. When we emerged from the opening I realised that we were just off-centre in the base of a white sphere so large you probably could have fitted a small moon inside, or indeed my complete collection of shoes. The dimensionally transcendent interior of this TARDIS had apparently been reconfigured into a single space. The point marking the exact base of the sphere was the console itself: a hexagonal mushroom-shape that appeared to have been chiselled out of white marble as well.

'Is this… Precursor technology?' the Professor asked. 'Did we pass through some kind of portal into a different space?'

'Not entirely.' I shrugged. 'It's all to do with dimensional squeezing, or so I'm told.'

If the vast white sphere of the TARDIS's interior had actually been empty then I would have been able to make a much better estimate of its true size, but it wasn't empty. It was filled with fuzzy white oblong shapes that were strung together by cobwebs as thick as a person. The white of the objects against the white of the TARDIS interior made it difficult to tell how big they were but it looked to me like they were each as big as Professor Forcade's spaceship. They hung in all orientations – vertical, horizontal, diagonal – but the cobwebby material seemed to link them by their ends. In effect, there were long strands of these things crisscrossing the void, like bizarre Christmas decorations strung in impossibly long lines.

'What are they?' Forcade breathed. 'I have a horrible feeling,' I said.

'They look like… giant chrysalises,' he went on. Honestly, some people just don't know when to leave well enough alone.

'Yes,' I said. 'That was my horrible feeling.' He scratched his neck. 'But how could—'

'Sshhh,' I said, raising a finger to his lips. He stopped speaking, and I listened intently. With the great Time Engines of this TARDIS having been silent for a million years there should have been no noise in there, but I could hear a rustling, far far away. It sounded like the wind brushing its way through piles of dry leaves, but I suspected that it had a much more unpleasant source. I suspected that some of these chrysalises were close to hatching, but how could that be true after so long? There were things here I just didn't understand.

I've seen things that have scared me before. I've faced Weeping Angels and the Silents; I've faced Daleks and Cybermen and the Crimson Revenants. I know what fear feels like, and I know how not to show it, because if you show the things you're scared of that you are scared then that gives them more power (certainly true in the case of the Crimson Revenants, who eat fear and excrete sheer terror in return). Mostly I can control my feelings, either because I'm with people I trust or because I can see a clear way out. But here, and now… the scale of what I was looking at terrified me. Millions of Qwerm chrysalises, ready to hatch. Millions of them and one of me. What could I do?

I turned away from Professor Forcade so he couldn't see the panic that I could feel on my face. I found myself looking back towards the console at the base of the sphere – which I was now thinking of as a cross between a giant ancient nursery and a giant ancient hive – but I caught a flash of something different from behind some of the cocoons that were near the floor. I gingerly led the way over, manoeuvring my way past their cotton-wool surfaces, which rose up around us like gently curved and rather woolly cliff faces. The cobwebby substance that linked them together and held them up looked fragile, but I did my best not to touch it. I once saw a man try to brush his way through a web of monomolecular fibres (let's not go into where or why right now). Everything from his fingertips to his elbows suddenly turned into something resembling roughly chopped salami. It wasn't pleasant, and I didn't want the same thing happening to me.

In a clear space between the cocoons we came across the body of a Qwerm. I'd never seen one before, but there was no doubt about what it was. As the legends said, it was long and locust-like, and big enough that it could have occupied the space of five or six shops in any high street you care to name. What I hadn't expected was that its hard exterior skin was black, and gleamed like oiled metal. It had drawn its legs up towards its underside when it had died. Everything inside should have rotted away or dried out over the millennia, but it looked as though it might just stretch out and move off at a moment's notice.

Professor Forcade seemed shocked into silence. That was probably a good thing. Gibbering never looks good in a man.

I moved around to the front of the Qwerm. Its head was the same size as the Mini Cooper I used to drive, back when I was young, when my parents were my best friends and when I only had one goal in life – to kill the Doctor. Its eyes were like massive, faceted obsidian gemstones, but there was no gleam of life in them. The various complicated mouthparts – which I suspect also would have doubled as manipulators, like hands or tentacles in other species, hung limply from its maw.

They still had traces of biological fluid on them. That wasn't a good sign. 'What… what killed it?' Forcade whispered.

'Like millions of human women through history,' I replied, gazing up at the chrysalises up hanging in near-infinite array above us, 'it died in childbirth.'

Forcade moved closed to the dried-out husk of the Qwerm. I was just about to warn him not to touch it, but he leant forwards, hands behind his back, and gazed closely at something between two of the metallic plates that made up its body. Suddenly he sprang back, hands raised in defence.

'They've found us again!' he cried.

I moved closer cautiously. It's something I learned from the Doctor: always move towards danger rather than away from it – it's the last thing they'll expect. I used to ask him who 'they' were, but he'd just look at me in exasperation and say, 'It's a metaphorical "they". "They" as in "the personification of whatever is causing the danger".'

'But why "they"?' I'd press him. 'Why not "he" or "she" or "it"?' 'Because danger always comes with reinforcements,' he'd say.

What Forcade had found looked initially like some kind of growth or protrusion from the soft tissues inside the shell, but as I got closer I realised that it looked a lot like the head-lice that had

abducted us outside, on the planet's surface: a shell roughly the size of a human skull, eight organic hard-shelled legs and two pincers. The legs and the pincers were curled up beneath it now, and the shell wasn't actually a head – just the same size as one. It had eyes like black lenses set into things that looked like organic goggles, and multiple mouthparts, like the Qwerm.

'What is it?' Forcade asked nervously. 'Some kind of parasite?'

'More like a mutually beneficial partner,' I ventured. Looking over the massive black bulk of the Qwerm, I saw another four or five creatures just the same, nestled between its plates. 'I suspect these things did a lot of the fetching and carrying for the Qwerm. I'm not sure what they got back in return, however – maybe some kind of secretion from the Qwerm's body that they used as nourishment?'

Forcade glanced nervously at the stairs. 'But why does it look like those… things… that my team have turned into?'

'I don't know,' I replied, 'but I don't think it's a coincidence.'

'When the Qwerm have no servants,' a dry, whispering voice said, 'they must make new ones.'

The sound was shocking in the dense silence created by the cocoons and the cobwebs. We both turned. I think the Professor might have weed himself just a little.

The voice was coming from the TARDIS's console. We moved cautiously around the bulk of the dead Qwerm and the various chrysalises on the floor until we could see it properly.

I gasped, and the Professor made a choking noise.

I hadn't noticed before, but the centre bit of the console – the time rotor, as the Doctor used to call it – had been removed. Protruding from it was the head and chest of… well, I wasn't sure. It had to be a Time Lord, but it looked like one who had been caught impossibly in the middle of a regeneration. The left side was an old woman with close-cropped silver hair, one blue eye and deep lines on her face, but the right side was a girl, maybe 10 years old, with long brown hair and one green eye. The two halves of the head were the same size, more or less, with a kind of rough, lumpy dividing line between them, as if the body's incredible Time Lord metabolism had tried to make the best of a bad job but not done very well.

Strands of the cobwebby stuff shrouded her body, and led away into the vast space of the TARDIS. It was as if she was attached to the chrysalises by the ancient ghosts of cables and wires.

'Hello,' I said, trying to keep my voice steady. 'Who are you?'

'I won't tell you my real name,' she replied softly, 'but some people used to call me Rocinante.' Her voice started out old and cracked, but gradually segued into something younger and more hesitant as she spoke.

'How long have you been in here?' Forcade asked. His eyes were wide. I wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. If it came to that, I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

'For me, a few weeks,' she said. Her eyes were brown and her hair was fair, only slightly darker than the cobwebs. 'For the universe outside, I don't know. Maybe a million years.'

'Ah,' I said, realising. 'A time field.'

She nodded. 'The Qwerm made me switch it on after they had filled the TARDIS with their larvae.' 'Of course.' I nodded. 'It's all so obvious.'

'Not to me,' Forcade protested. He was pulling the collar of his coveralls away from his skin as if something underneath was irritating him.

'It's all to do with the ancient clearances,' I explained in my best lecturer's voice. 'The Time Lords had allied themselves with the Qwerm and others to fight the Racnoss, the Great Vampires and whatever other races wanted to sweep across the universe like a plague and destroy everything, but once the clearances were over the Time Lords looked around and realised they'd made a new generation of problems. Races like the Qwerm had militarised themselves, and they couldn't go back. With nothing left to fight, what would they do?'

'The Qwerm were incredibly intelligent,' the pale girl whispered. 'Five brains, all operating in parallel. They knew that they would be next on the list, so they devised a plan. They would capture a TARDIS from one of their Time Lord advisers, lay billions of eggs inside that TARDIS, then leave it hidden in a time field until the universe had calmed down and pacified itself, until the Time Lords had sunk into the complacency that affects all great empires, and they could hatch out and sweep across the universe. To the victors, the spoils. That was their attitude. They felt they had earned the right to the universe.' She smiled, but on one side of her face it looked bitter and the other side radiant.

'This is that TARDIS,' I said, 'and you are that Time Lord adviser.'

She glanced around at the cobwebs – or Qwerm power and data conduits, as I now realised they were – that strung her up. I followed the cables with my eyes. They linked her not to any Qwerm technology that I could see but to the cocoons themselves. I glanced back at her, and saw that she was looking at me thoughtfully.

'The Racnoss are born hungry,' she said quietly. 'That's what they say. Or said, anyway. In contrast, the Qwerm are born thinking. Even in their chrysalises, they are planning and considering and sifting evidence. And I'm linked to them now. Part of them. I can sense their thoughts, and their intentions, and they can force me to do things for them.' She hesitated, shaking her head slightly. The hair over the younger side of her face swung in front of her eyes.

'And what about…' I gestured at the two sides of her body, at the old, scrawny arm on one side, like a gnarled tree root and the young limb on the other.

'The pain of what they did, using me as an interface between my TARDIS and themselves, forcing me to set up the time field by the sheer weight of their minds, caused me to regenerate,' she continued sadly, 'but the time field switched on while I was in the middle of changing. Half of my body refreshed itself, and half stayed as it was. When the Professor's archaeology team discovered my TARDIS it woke up, the time field collapsed, and I found myself like this – neither one thing nor another. Caught in between two different bodies.'

Professor Forcade's face was white and strained. He was still tugging at his collar. 'This is all very well, but what does this have to do with what happened out there?' he asked, waving vaguely at the stairs. 'I suppose I can accept that the Qwerm have left their larvae frozen in a time field for a millennium, but how did that affect my team?'

'And me,' I pointed out. 'Not that I want to make out that everything is about me, although it is, but why was my name on the front of this TARDIS, and why did it look like..?' I hesitated, leaving the words 'the Doctor's TARDIS' unsaid.

'Someone needed to open the front door,' she said. 'The last thing I managed to do of my own free will before the time field was established was to trigger the emergency war protocols, established in case of compromise of a TARDIS or a Time Lord. It didn't matter that eventually the time field would collapse: my TARDIS was sealed and could only be opened by another of my race.' She smiled at me, sweetly. 'Or a child of a TARDIS. That I did not foresee. You were lured here. Once my TARDIS recognised the mark of the Time Vortex in your DNA, it unlocked itself for you.'

'Lured how?' I was fascinated by Rocinante's story, but at the same time I was aware that the rustling noises high above us were getting more intense.

'Once this TARDIS was discovered by the Professor's archaeology team, the time field collapsed and my TARDIS was freed. It could link in to any communications system in range. It could link in to other TARDISes in the current time zone, wherever they are in the universe, and siphon off what they know.'

'TARDISes can't do that,' I pointed out.

'They used to be able to. We had something we called the Vortex Web. It linked all of our TARDISes together for tactical planning and communications purposes. The capability is still there,

but apparently nobody uses it any more.' She smiled shyly on half of her face. 'That's how the Qwerm larvae hive mind, linked through me to my TARDIS, found out about this fascinating person called the Doctor, and about you. It set a trap. It used the chameleon circuit to alter the outside of my TARDIS to look like this Doctor's broken TARDIS, and the sign on the front to make sure that it was you, rather than him, who would be lured here. The Qwerm larval hive mind decided that you would be less dangerous than him.' She cocked her head to one side, and grimaced. 'I'm sorry. That was their assessment, not mine.'

'And the archaeological team?'

'The Qwerm larval hive mind needed servants to find you and bring you here. My TARDIS was surrounded by dormant microbe-sized robots.'

'The yellow powder,' I said quietly, kicking myself for not having realised earlier.

'They infiltrated the bodies of the team through their air passages and their lungs and adjusted them… rebuilt them… to a form that was more familiar to the Qwerm, similar to their old servants from hundreds of billions of years ago. As I said, when the Qwerm have no servants, they must make more servants.'

'And now what?' I asked. 'The Time Lords didn't die out, you know? They're still around, and they won't stand for this.' It was bravado, but I was hoping Rocinante, and more importantly the Qwerm larvae who were listening to us through her ears, didn't know that.

I was wrong.

'According to the history that my TARDIS has downloaded from the Vortex Web,' she said, 'the Time Lords are old and decrepit now. Their time has gone. Their one chance at redeeming themselves and recapturing their old glories in this Time War failed, and they have hidden themselves away in another dimension somewhere. They will not stop us.'

'Us?' I queried.

'The Qwerm,' she corrected herself, frowning. 'In fact, once the Qwerm take control of the universe, as is their right, they might well invite the Time Lords to join them. As junior partners, of course. For old times' sake.'

'How sweet,' I said.

Rocinante opened her mouth to say something, but there was a sudden crashing from nearby. I whirled round, to see one of the chrysalises falling to the bottom of the sphere of the TARDIS's interior, bouncing off the webbing that criss-crossed the space as it went. The chrysalis had a long tear in its side, where something had climbed out.

And above our heads I thought I could see something oily and black moving around uncertainly, clutching at the webbing for support with claws the size of my whole body.

'They're hatching,' Rocinante whispered. Half of her face was twisted in terror, but the other half was gazing upwards in exultation.

Another chrysalis crashed down, almost covering the stairs that we had entered through, and which were our only chance to get out.

Or were they?

I remembered something that the Doctor had once let slip. If Rule One is that the Doctor lies then Rule Two is that he often says things that aren't true just for comedic purposes and Rule Three is that even when he's not lying and not joking then he's often wrong, but it was the only chance I could see. The only thing that could stop an army of gigantic super-intelligent space locusts from ravaging the universe.

A third empty cocoon fell towards the console, ending up caught in a cat's-cradle of webbing ten feet above Rocinante's head. She hardly seemed to notice. Half of her was paralysed with fear; half was paralysed in near-religious ecstasy.

I glanced over at Professor Forcade. My mouth was just opening to say, 'I'm going to need your help with this,' when I noticed that he was staring at me oddly. Blankly, as if he didn't recognise me. And then his entire head lifted off his neck, supported by eight hard-shelled legs, while two claws unfolded from beneath his jaw.

I'd known that it was only a matter of time before the Qwerm nanobots managed to infect him.

They had probably infected me too, except that I was hoping that my genetic inheritance as a child of the TARDIS would prevent them from functioning.

Forcade's body fell to the curved floor while his head made a leap for the nearest strands of webbing and scuttled away, clicking its claws at me and staring balefully through clusters of eyes on what had been the back of its head. I wasn't going to be getting any help from him either.

I moved quickly across to the console. I'd watched the Doctor enough times to know what to do and what not to do – which was usually the opposite of what he did and what he didn't do. Quickly, almost instinctively, my hands flickered over the controls.

'What… what are you doing?' Rocinante asked in a voice that swung disconcertingly between old age and youth.

'The Doctor once told me,' I said, still working frantically away, 'that all TARDISes have not only a front door but also a back door, for use in emergencies.'

I glanced upwards. Several vast and iridescent black shapes were moving towards me from different directions.

'What I am doing,' I went on, 'is connecting the front door to the back door in something called an infinite Klein bottle. Anyone or anything leaving through the front door will find themselves coming in through the front door. This TARDIS will become a sealed system.'

Cocoons were splitting all across the astronomical expanse of the TARDIS's internal space now.

Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of Qwerm were being born even as I watched. 'You'll be trapped in here,' Rocinante gasped.

'My original intention was that the Professor would press the final switch just as I made it through the doors,' I said grimly, 'which would have been good for me and the universe but not so good for the Professor. That isn't going to work now. I never thought that this was how I would end up, but hey! We all have to go some time.'

The ancient part of Rocinante's face glared at me murderously, but the lips of the child side curved into a childish smile. 'Run,' she said. 'Let me handle that final switch.'

'Are you sure?'

'I'm sure.' She wrenched her arm from the grip of the webbing and reached down towards the console.

'Thank you,' I said.

I ran for the stairs as fast as I could. I fell down them, and rolled through the open doors. As they slammed shut behind me I saw, just for a moment, the whole of the space inside wrap back on itself.

I still had to get past the head-lice before I could find safe refuge in Professor Forcade's spacecraft, of course, but compared to what I'd already accomplished that was child's play. They didn't seem to know what was going on, and kicking them away as I ran made a satisfying crunching sound. It did ruin my shoes, but that can easily be fixed. I had gone through a hellish experience, but the only therapy I needed was of the retail variety.

Kanenda Station, here I come.

I came back to Stormcage in the end, of course. It wasn't as if I really had any choice. The Governor still has my vortex manipulator in her possession, and if I want to see my mother and father and my husband any more then I will need it. So, after an extended shopping spree and a number of parties I

piloted the Professor's spacecraft back to the grim, rain-lashed planet that I had come to regard as home.

I don't think the Governor was pleased to see me, despite the fact that I had returned of my own accord. She wanted to know what had happened to Professor Forcade, but I didn't particularly want to share that story, so I kept quiet (which isn't like me at all). She withdrew all of my privileges and stripped my cell of all the books and pictures I had accumulated over the course of my incarceration. She also banned me from seeing or talking to anyone else, including the wardens.

So, here I sit, memorising my own diary entries so that I can write them down properly when I get my journal back. It doesn't matter. Having time to myself to think is good. Having a lot of time to myself means I can do a lot of thinking.

The arthropods that live in the cracks in my cell walls have come up with some interesting ideas for getting my vortex manipulator back. Once we've worked out all the kinks, we'll put their plan into effect.

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 _Picnic at_ _Asgard_ © Jenny T. Colgan 2016 _Suspicious Minds_ © Jacqueline Rayner 2016 _A Gamble with_ _Time_ © Steve Lyons 2016 _Death_ _in_ _New_ _Venice_ © Guy Adams 2016 _River of_ _Time_ © Andrew Lane 2016

Jenny T. Colgan, Jacqueline Rayner, Steve Lyons, Guy Adams and Andrew Lane have asserted their right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

First published by BBC Books in 2016  . 

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 9781785940880


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